EFGSG SG Hntt GfnUegc of Agriculture At (ttorncll mnineraity Dtltata. 91. 1- Sltbratg Cornell University Library BF 636.S6 Short talks on psychology, 3 1924 014 093 201 The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014093201 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY BY PROF. CHARLES GRAY SHAW, Ph.D. of New York University Author of "The Ego and Its Place in the World," "The Ground and Goal of Human Life," "The Value and Dignity of Human Life" NEW YORK BRENTANO'S PUBLISHERS (5) BFG"5G Copyright, 1920, by BREiNTANO'S All rights reserved MADE IN U. S. A. PREFACE The progress of psychology has been so marked that we might be said to be living in the psychological age. Psychology is now being applied in office and factory, in army-camp and college ante-roqm, in literature and journalism. As a result of this men- tal activity, people generally have become curious to know what psychology is like, and how it may be applied personally by those who are desirous of be- coming acquainted with their own inner lives. The Short Talks on Psychology, which have seen the light of day in various newspapers, are intended to aid the general reader and general thinker in coming to an understanding with himself. Almost everybody has the wistful desire to go behind the returns of concrete experience; almost all of us would like to know why we think as we do, why our friends act as they do. It is the calculated purpose of this book to make the reader feel what Socrates felt — ^the impressiveness of the Delphic oracle: Know thyself! to which the individualistic injunction might be added, "Know thy neighbor as well as thyself." The recent war has given an exhibition of what man is and can do when aroused, for mankind has done and felt the impossible. Yet mankind is al- ways a mystery to himself, so that psychology is a PREFACE study which is both desirable and imperative. If these Short Talks enable any one to get at the mys- tery of conscious life as shown by that one person they will not be in vain. There is no lack of formal text-books on the sub- ject of psychology, or is there any want of near- psychological studies of a "psychic" character. The present work seeks to get at consciousness, not from the standpoints of either science or spiritualism, but from the angle of Life. C Vr. O. University Heights, New York City, March, 1920. CONTENTS PAGE I What is Psychology? 1 II The Psychology of Charm .... 3 III Psychology and the Pay Envelope . 5 IV The Secret of Selling 7 V The Raw Material of Mind .... 9 VI What Type of Mind Have You? . . 11 VII Making Your Temperament to Order . 13 VIII The Passing of Fear 15 IX The Psychology of the Agitator . 17 X Psychology and Citizenship ... 19 XI Short Cuts and Short Circuits . . 21 XII Pleasure is Power 23 XIII The Psychology of Work .... 25 XIV Psychology and Play 27 XV More Than Five Senses 29 XVI Plodders and Dreamers 31 XVII Have You a Fallen Arch? .... 33 XVIII A Sneeze 35 XIX The Hang-Dog Look 37 XX Are You Rim Fire? 39 XXI False Windows in the Brain ... 41 XXII The Muzzle Velocity of Mind ... 43 XXIII Are You Getting Dog Eared? ... 45 XXIV Skull Practice 47 XXV Laughing Before Breakfast ... 49 XXVI Conscripting Your Own Brain Cells . 51 XXVII The Other Man's Mind 53 CONTENTS PAGE XXVIII Where Delay is Dangerous .... 55 XXIX The Power of Attention .... 57 XXX Your Will Works All the Time . . 59 XXXI Why We Welcome Obstacles ... 61 XXXII The Terra Firma of Facts .... 63 XXXIII Why Do You Laugh? 65 XXXIV Where Common Sense Ends .... 67 XXXV Psychological Moments .... 69 XXXVI Food for Thought 71 XXXVII Have You a Judicial Mind? .... 73 XXXVIII Feeling Your Way 75 XXXIX What is the Horse-Power of the Will? 77 XL Habits Good and Bad 79 XLI States of Mind 81 XLII Energy or Bluster? 83 XLIII How We Become Partisan .... 85 XLIV The Long and Short of Memory . . 87 XLV The Pin Cushion Brain 89 XL VI Psychological Substitutes for Alco- hol 91 XL VII Emotional Reaction Upon Life ... 93 XLVIII Practical Hypnotism 95 XLIX How Sensations Affect Feelings . . 97 L The Control of Emotion .... 99 LI The Desires of Life 101 LII The Value of Pain 103 LIII Crossed Eyes of the Mind .... 105 LIV Raising One's Self by One's Boot Straps 107 LV Emotion and its Effervescence . . 109 LVI The Variability of Pleasure . . Ill LVII Being at One's Prime 113 LVIII The Psychology of Personalty . . 115 CONTENTS PAGE LIX Synthetic Consciousness . . . . 117 LX Instinct and Intellect 119 LXI The Psychological Blessings of Mo- notony 121 LXII The Psychology of Substitutes . . 123 LXIII Conscious Self-Deception .... 125 LXIV Fretting 127 LXV Number Forms 129 LXVI Dropping Non-Essentials .... 131 LXVII The Psychology of the Golden Rule . 133 LXVIII Thrills 135 LXIX Mental Side Tracks 137 LXX The Theorizer 139 LXXI — Brain Bubbles 141 LXXII The Gilt-Edged Mind 143 LXXIII The Psychology of Advice .... 145 LXXIV Lucid Moments 147 LXXV Love and Hate are the Same . . . 149 LXXVI Is Your Mind Muscle Bound? . . .151 LXXVII Psychological Fog-Time 153 LXXVIII The Psychology of Culture . . . 155 LXXIX The Air of Expectancy 157 LXXX The Brain a Barrel 159 LXXXI A Mental Close Up 161 LXXXII Sore Spots 163 LXXXIII The Full Rigged Mind 165 LXXXIV Finger Prints 167 LXXXV Mental Overtones 169 LXXXVI The Cream Separator of the Brain . 171 LXXXVII Do Not Make Yourself Scarce . . .173 LXXXVIII Saving Daylight — Burning Daylight . 175 LXXXIX The Psychology of Manners . . .177 XC The Psychology of City Life . . . 179 XCI Giantism 181 CONTENTS PAGE XCII The Mental Dry Dock . . . 183 XCIII The Heart in the Right Place . . 185 XCIV Double Sympathy 187 xcv The Application of Will Power . 189 XCVI Kite Souls 191 XCVII Psychological Semaphore . . . 193 XCVIII A Phantom View 195 XCIX The Psychology of News . . . 197 c The Sentimental Victory . . . 199 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY WHAT IS PSYCHOLOGY? MOST people look at the word "Psychology" as though it stood for something of a mysterious character like witchcraft, hypnotism, New Thought or the like, when as a matter of fact Psychology is noth- ing more than organized common sense applied to the problems of the mind. If you have wondered why a building four hundred feet high looks longer than a ship four hundred feet long, if you have asked yourself why they always have music at the moving-picture show, if you have noted that time passes rapidly when you are busy, if you have observed green shadows after gazing at red, if you have heard the newsboy ask "what paper" instead of offering papers in general — if you have done things of this kind you have begun the practical study of psychology. In a more scientific way. Psychology may be called a study of one's own mental states and his neighbor's acts ; it is thus a science of the mind's states and acts, of the intellect and the will. It is not sufficient for the 1 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY mind to think or the will to act, not enough for one to have mental states and for the other to exhibit certain acts; to be a psychologist you must know the why and wherefore of these inner dreams and outer deeds. When you put yourself into an interrogative mood as to ideas and motives, you put yourseK in the position of the psychologist. In order to turn your brain into a kind of home- laboratory, gaze all about you and then inquire * whether your eyes have seen anything more than col- ors and grays ; listen to every sound in the street and then note whether you have heard more than tone and noise. Suggest to your mind such things as — 'a shovel, Washington, D. C, the moon, last Sunday and see what other idea immediately leaps into your mind. Do you know why it is that in the simple but pain- ful act of arising in the morning, you keep thinking that you ought to get up but do not budge and then suddenly find that you are out upon the floor? How do you tell when another person is growing angry? Why does fear show itself in wide-open eyes? Can you tell when a man is just on the point of buying goods or when a woman is prepared to say "yes"? These are psychological questions with which we are generally familiar, but the secret of them means study, the most interesting study in llie world. It is Psychology! II THE PSYCHOLOGY OF CHARM CHARM is like complexion; if you have either, the lack of other things is not noticeable; but if you lack the proper life-color, the presence of other merits* does you only a limited amount of good. Charm is not an effeminate affair, but a solid quality of life which is worthy of being cultivated, because it is often worth more than its weight in gold. Although charm appears to be something on the surface of the individual's life, it is really a sense of the other person's individuality. Just as it was said of a certain man, "he was deliciously aware diat other people were present," so the charming person is one whose own personality has the will and the power to appreciate the presence and the desire of other per- sons, and that in a "delicious" manner. Writers who charm by their style do not fail to ex- press their own personalities, but they do this in such a complete way as to include the interests of others. The great writer reads his work while he is writing it, go that he takes both his own point of view and yours. The result is that the reader has the feeling that the book must have been written for him. To cultivate the kind of charm which is to spell 3 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY success, one has to intuit the interests of the other persons and then cultivate them as though they were flowers in a garden. In talking with a boy, one turns the conversation away from the stock-market to the baseball-field or camp. If an elderly person is pres- ent, the conversation which involves the past will serve to charm the person who lives in memory. The person who rides his hobby in the presence of others is mounted on a steed conspicuous for lack of charm, no matter how well he may ride. The higher charm consists in introducing such topics of conversation and such plans of action as are of interest to aU; and one reason why we refer to the weather is because all are interested in this one, su- preme subject. But there are spiritual weathers in fairer skies, and he who would have grace and charm is careful to consider just where human interest lies. In the lower sense, we are fond of gossip, but there is a better gossip than that of the community; there is the eternal gossip of mankind which is ever a subject of charming interest. Ill PSYCHOLOGY AND THE PAY ENVELOPE NO one can pay any degree of attention to the work- ings of the mind without noticing that our human consciousness has its own way of working. The eye sees light as "color," the ear hears sound as "tone," the tongue tastes chemicals as "sweet" or "sour." The mind is a law unto itself. In addition to this principle of internal independ- ence, there is a kind of Monroe doctrine of mind in the light of which one sensation is brighter or belter when contrasted with another. Red is most rosy against green, blue is at its best when laid side by side with yellow. The dull world of physical facts may be unaware of this, but it is what every mind knows. Furthermore, the mind is in the habit of noting things in ways purely relative, so that it depends upon attendant circumstances whether this or that idea will make an impression upon the mind. In the brightness of day, you cannot see the stars for all their shining; in the noise of the subway, you cannot hear the tones of ordinary conversation talk as much as will your companion. This sense of "it depends" has an economic signifi- cance upon whose basis one can gain some insight into 5 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY the present situation in the industrial order. The principle may be recognized at once when one notes that a penny to a child is as a dime to a youth, in the youith's mind the dime equals the dollar of the grown- up man, while with the worker whose wage is, or was, low the dollar extra may seem the equivalent of a hundred. It all depends upon the economic starting point. Economists and statesmen will have to work out the problem of sane and just distribution; meanwhile the psychologically minded may dwell upon the fact that a sum like a himdred dollars has no fixed value, but means one thing to one man, another to another, all depending upon what has been the individual's expe- rience with money. If a man of brawn is to receive forty dollars per week for manual labor, he will have to readjust his mind along lines of critical psychology, for the simple reason that large pay is a new experience for him. From what one observes among the spendthrifts, ex- cessive wages find the worker in no condition to realize the meaning of money. The Bolsheviki are poor psychologists. IV THE SECRET OF SELLING IF a person about to buy an automobile, a suit, a house Xvere able and willing to confess his mental state, it would be of great interest to the man who has studied and practised salesmanship, one of the very latest arts. The business of selling is easier, is more difficult than we buyers and sellers imagine. Take the easier part of it first. He who goes into the market carries with him something more than his purse; he enters the store fully equipped with all the inherited instincts which go to make up the social con- sciousness of the soul. He is credulous, gullible; he believes all that the advertisement says and more; he will take the salesman's word for it and will cor- roborate his testimony in any court. No soldier in a trench is better fortified than the salesman behind his counter; all that one can do is to throw up his hands, and cry, "Kamerad!" Every- body who reads this will admit the truth of the follow- ing confessional statement: — "/ have bought many a thing which I did not want." Why is this? The social urge makes us follow fashion, trust to experts, and obey the impulse to keep money in circulation. We are bom buyers and are 7 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY subject to business-hypnosis if not to humbug. All of this social consciousness is in favor of the man who is there to sell the goods, to sell them to you. On the other hand, there is the hesitation, the con- servatism, which acts as a counterpoise for the prodi- gality which has descended to us from the race. The brain as brain is there to buy; the individual behind that brain is there to resist the sale. The man who is looking at coat or car, at house or jewel, wishes to be made to buy. Here is the salesman's opportunity. He can sell this thing to this man here and now; how about future sales? "The customer is always right" — in his desires ; as often wrong in his ideas. He wishes to be convinced, converted. Courtesy works well enough on the out- side, but it is sincerity which must ring out in the midst of the salesman's melody. He should lead, not force, the buyer; he should be on the buyer's side of the fence. Salesmanship is in its infancy ; the key to it lies in knowledge of human nature and human need — in Psychology. V THE RAW MATERIAL OF MIND IT'S an old saying that there is nothing in the intel- lect which was not first in the senses. Certainly it seems as though the free ideas which float through the mind in reverie or thought betray their origin in what we have seen or heard, so that ideas are so many kites held down to earth by the slender strings of sensation. But there are different ways of viewing the mind's raw material. From one point of view, thought is not bom but like Topsy, it "just growed." A more noble view is the Greek idea of Minerva, the goddess who sprang full armed from the head of Zeus. The Topsy-view makes mind a growth as natural and irre- sponsible as that of the plant. The Minerva-idea would have us survey mind as something complete in itself and independent in its operations. To mediate between these extreme views, one might suggest a third woman-character — Eve, whose orig- inal desire was for knowledge ; whence she ate of the fruit of the Tree. There is a sense in which the Eve of Mind is and is not dependent upon circiimstances for the knowledge which the mind is to enjoy and ex- press. The mind is so prepared for knowledge that sense-impressions have all meaning to the scientist, no 9 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY meaning to the dog who accompanies him. In this sense, mind is like Hamlet in Denmark, — ^to the man- ner bom. Even if we grant that the affairs of mind and its world are a sort of fifty-fifty, with honors equally dis- tributed, we must not fail to note that the mind can make both itself and its world. The savage and the scientist have die same senses and live in the same world, but the ideas of the scientist makes both his mind and his world over anew in the image of the thinker's soul. The raw material of mind is at your disposal. You may make of it the crude pottery of the Indian or the fine China of the Oriental. The threads are put into your hands, but it is for you to design the tapestry. What did Raphael make of his impres- sions? How did Shakespeare use his sensations? What meaning did the perceptions of Colimibus have to him? The lesser contemporaries if these men found the mind's material raw, and left it in little better state. There is enough material in sensation for works great and fine. The possibilities of sensation have just begun to be tapped. Arts, sciences, and indus- tries have a great field at their disposal. 10 VI WHAT TYPE OF MIND HAVE YOU? IF one is to "make up his mind," he must cast about in his brain and see what type of mind he pos- sesses; then he will be better able to develop his brain along the lines of its truest advancement. Of course, there are the well-known temperaments, but the kinds of intellects are not so fully recognized. In general, minds are either visual, auditory, or tactual. The visual type of mind is common to all, although some have better powers of visualizing. To test your mind along visual lines, note what you do when you try to recall a telephone-number. Do you say, "three — ^five, six, four, or do you actually see in imagination the 3, the 5, the 6 and 4? Or, when you attempt to fix such a number in your mind, do you repeat imtil you get the sound of it, or do you look at the numbers until they make a kind of arith- metical picture? The visual mind keeps snap-shots of names, num- bers, and the like, so that they move their eyes rather than their lips when they strive to recollect. Those who have visual minds will succeed in drawing and painting, in sciences which require exact calculation. When they come to write, they may have to borrow 11 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY from the auditory mind, but they will translate mental sounds in mental pictures. The auditory mind is found in public speakers as also in writers, while others make use of the sound of the name, thing, or number to fix it in their minds. A public spe£iker has sometimes the feeling that a sort of mental prompter stands behind him telling him what to say, while certain writers have the imaginary experience of having their sentences dictated to them by another self within the mind. The tactual mind which is found in skilled arti- sans, holds ideas by recalling the movements made when those ideas were expressed in words or forms. How often, in trying to recall a name, do you not take a pencil and try to write it, as though your mem- ory conserved the muscular activities involved in writ- ing the word. Typists and pianists cultivate the tac- tual mind, and are guided to their ideas by means of habitual movements of the muscles. Make up your mind! You have all three forms, but one of these must be most typical with you. 12 VII MAKING YOUR OWN TEMPERAMENT TO ORDER T^HE old talk about temperament was something to -■- the effect that we had just this or that sort of mentality — sanguine, choleric, phlegmatic or the like, but the new psychology has advanced the idea that temperaments are something like clothes which are made to measure. In the business of making your own temperament to order you are your own tailor, and keep taking your own measure. The whole matter of the temperament, which makes one person charming and another disagreeable, may be traced back to the type of mood which one is in the habit of entertaining. If one make a business of giving way to angry moods it will not be long before the temperament becomes an accomplished fact — a mark of the individual's character. The tempera- ment has been made out of the mood in the same way that a suit is made up from cloth of a certain pattern. But it is necessary to go behind the moods to find the more immediate sources of temperament. The moods grow out of the emotions, just as the tempera- ments grow out of the moods. It is quite natural and necessary to have on tap such an emotion as anger, but to display this on all occasions is to cultivate the 13 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY mad-mood out of which will grow the choleric tem- perament. In the same manner, one may be efferves- cent and over-hopeful most of the time and from such an emotional tendency grows the sanguine tempera- ment. Emotions last for moments, moods for hours, tem- peraments for years. If a man does not care to be over-optimistic he will be careful about cultivating the joyous mood; that is, he will not be excessively pleased at trifles. In the same way if one does not wish to become cross-grained, he will be careful about carrying a chip on his shoulder. If he desires to steer clear of pessimism he will not make room for every unhappy emotion which tries to ferment in his consciousness. In the midst of this, the expression of the emotion becomes an important matter, for an emotion that is unexpressed is no emotion at all. On the other hand, it is quite possible for the mere imitation of the emo- tion, as in the case of the actor, to produce the emotion itself as the cause from the effect. You can grow ugly by making your face frown and scowl, just as you can grow cheerful by putting a smile about your lips and eyes. Your temperament is your own and you have a right to it, but you are responsible for the type of emotion which you put into your brain. 14 VIII THE PASSING OF FEAR IN connection with the war and its aftermath, we hear more about the itch of the cootie than the twinge of fear. If there were any cowards, they are all out of the way now. Nevertheless, fear is a common emotion which no swashbuckler can wave away with a boast. In the animal world, fear is uni- versal; did you ever meet a dog or a snake which was not ready to run or writhe away? Fear need not arise from a terrible spectacle in front of one; fear is just as likely to spring from the intense nothingness of darkness. For the most part, fear seems to be due to a sense of unfamiliarity; an old animal however ferocious is not as bad as a new one. In this spirit, Nietzsche's nervousness made him dread above all things else — ^surprise. To pass through the worst street in the town we know is not as hard as to walk through the best thor- oughfare in the town we know not. In olden times, the wayfarer was the way fearer, so that the traveller went armed. Darkness we dread because it gives us no information; death is terrible because we know nothing about what, as Goethe said, must be a benefit since it is so universal. 15 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY It is not the heart which trembles but the brain, so that we can say apprehension as fear is due to lack of apprehension as knowledge. Just as perfect love is supposed to cast out fear, so does perfect knowledge. The sailor has no fears from the sea, the mountaineer from the pass, the fireman from the fire. These know what waves, peaks, and flames really mean. Why does one rise when a stranger enters? What is now a sign of etiquette was once the behavior of fear; your ancestor rose to his feet in order to be on his guard against the newcomer. Why should the host pour wine into his own glass first? It might look better to give this honor to the guest, but the same ancestor had to do that to show that his wine was not poisoned. Just as soon as we know about people and wines, just as soon do we lose this onetime fear. The days of fear may be many, but they are num- bered ; each day sees an old fear die of old age. We do not fear witches, omens, signs, strangers. The more we become acquainted with life and death, the less dreadful they are. Herein is an emotional argu- ment for knowledge, for knowledge destroys dread, familiarity devours fear. 16 IX THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE AGITATOR THE proper treatment of the Reds will have to be left to the proper authorities; but while they are determining what to do, we may spend a little fruitful time considering "Red" psychology. What is an agi- tator, and how does a man get into the mood of agi- tation? In connection with social psychology, it may be ob- served that the social order itself is responsible for the production of these Gracchi, although it is far from the purpose of society to warm such vipers in its own bosom. Society is unwilling to leave the individual to himself, but insists that the individual become educated, or efficient as we say to-day. But when the work of effective education has been done in the individual, the social order does not al- ways have a place for him, so that he may say, "He that begat me had no bread for me." When, there- f dre, a civilization produces men who are fit for lead- ership but can afford them no place for the exercise of their cultivated talents such men are likely to make leaders of themselves, or they become labor agitators. There is no room for them among the captains of in- dustry, so they make room for themselves as captains of industrialism. 17 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY In its rapid progress the social order throws oif these incipient agitators as a wheel emits sparks. The social order equips men for whom there is no place in the genuine work of the State. The professions are so crowded that these discontented ones become pro- fessional trouble-makers. There is no room for them in straight jounralism, so they become self-styled edi- tors of little red sheets. The seating capacity of the Senate chamber is limited, so that these quasi-leaders must have a little industrial senate of their own. The remedy is not so easily pointed out, for dia- gnosis is often simpler than cure. At the same time, psychology can offer a suggestion on this wise. If education and civilization generally tend to produce these equipped men but have no horses for them, they have the high privilege of becoming something within their own souls, captains of those same souls. That is, they may turn their intellectual forces inward in- stead of outward, may construct rather than destroy. Idealistic as this may seem, it has been done by the very best of men. Emerson found no place in the State, but he made his own place in the mind. Goethe did not use his mental powers for the purpose of agitating, but with the aim of promoting the "noble deed." Psychology bids the agitator cultivate his own soul's garden. 18 X PSYCHOLOGY AND CITIZENSHIP ASIDE from the special fact that psychology deals with the stuff out of which men as citizens are made, it may be said that any form of scientific study is likely to make for citizenship. Science does this because science proceeds by law, hence there arises an analogy between physics and politics. Psychology leads to citizenship because, in the first place, psychology makes a man acquainted with him- self, from which knowledge he may pass on outward toward a comprehension of all mankind. What man knoweth the things of man save by the spirit of man which is in him? If Plato made a good guess when he declared that an ideal republic should have philos- ophers for princes and princes for philosophers, we may guess again democratically, and assert that a real republic should have psychologists for citizens and citizens for psychologists. In the psychology of citizenship, it is well to note that civilization may be either good or bad. It is good for those who have the ability to absorb it, as has been the case with many who have come to us from Europe, bad for those who have no capacity for it, as in the instance of the American Indians. The study 19 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY of psychology makes it possible for us to predict just what kinds of people will tolerate and assimilate the artificial ideas of civilization. Immigration is in large measure a psychological question. It can be good for the immigrant who comes to these far-off shores for the purpose of find- ing more room for his efforts, just as it can be good for his host, who has an opportunity to observe how the other half lives. But the moment that the immi- grant-visitor and his native-host cannot come to an understanding, immigration becomes a melting pot of most uncertain brew, a veritable witch's caldron. Lack of psychological citizenship shows itself in strikes and riots, but does not fail to appear in the activity of the profiteer, the speculator. The effects which spring from such causes are felt by all souls concerned. For this reason, a psychological ques- tionnaire which should determine the reactions of all citizens could do only good, especially at a time when the world is wobbling along its orbit. A psychological recasting of the Golden Rule would produce a new type of citizen. That is, it would teach every man that he is of like stuff with his neighbor. 20 XI SHORT CUTS AND SHORT CIRCUITS T^HIS is the age of short cuts, short cuts in prepara- J- tory education, in work, in politics. Hence it is well to know just what the short cut can and cannot do for one. After we have seen that the cut may be too short, we will shift to the short circuit. The short cut is a device whereby one in his efforts seeks to eliminate many of the details while he gets at the essentials. In education we will teach just what a child will need in life; in work we will do just those things which the results demand; in diet we will eat such foods as produce the needed calories. There is so much to learn, to do, to eat that we must have these short cuts. In contrast with the short cut which leaves out the non-essential is the short circuit which keeps it in, but does not fail to arrive at its goal with the same degree of speed. In a short circuit, the whole charge passes through the little connecting wire, or whatever the con- ductor may be. The important thing about the cir- cuit is that, though short and condensed, it carries the full force of the operation along with it. The man who despises the short cut with its narrow- ness still has the power to condense and abbreviate, a 21 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY power made possible by the short circuit of activity. He who knows the theory of number will short circuit all this speculative science when he comes to foot up a column of figures. He who is proficient in grammar and syntax will short circuit these things when he comes to write a letter. The poet who knows the his- tory of the word that has come down to him from the ancient Himalayas will short circuit his linguistic knowledge and use the right word in the right place, and that as if instinctively. The short circuit has all the advantages of the short cut, and many more be- sides. The short cut has filled a place here and there, but it can do harm, since it is always a movement away from intelligence. One needs both to do and to know, to understand what he does. The demand of the day in the work of reconstruction is for men who know the power of the short circuit, men of ability who can bring all of their knowledge to bear upon a given point, be it a canal at Panama, a riot in Seattle, a strike in Boston, a blizzard in Iowa. Side by side, the man of the short cut and the man of the short circuit may look alike, may for a time act alike, but in the long run the accumulated intelligence of the one will show the advantage of having the whole mental charge leap across the wire. 22 XII PLEASURE IS POWER TN the endless discussion between Optimist and Pes- J- simist, the fact that pleasure is something more than a mere feeling has been overlooked. Pleasure is a power, joy moves on apace, and where pain dies a natural death, pleasure has nine lives. The persistence of pleasure in the human mind is attributable to the fact that the essence of vital force is itself an enjoyment, the very enjoyment of exist- ence. Pleasure is creative, preservative, triumphant; it holds in its merry hands the secret of life, accom- panies life, and plays into life's hands. Pleasure is more tenacious than pain, so that when one reviews his experience he finds that it is usually the pleasant impression which remains. Read biog- raphies, and you will see that in spite of the hero's pains, his pleasures and successes carry the work along. In the same manner, epitaphs are so flattering that it seems as though only the pleasant things were the facts remembered in the life of the deceased. Evil and sorrow are interred in the ground, but pleas- ure and victory spring up like flowers. In the life of man, laughter builds up the system while tears tend by attrition to wear the man away, as 23 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY a stream cuts its way through a rock. The pleasure of the heart is the heart's strength; it acts as a Spring tonic, or strychnine. To observe the power of pleasure, note the reaction upon your organism when you feel even a limited amount of simple joy. A sweet taste, a bit of good news, money in a letter are little things, but they have the power to increase the capacity of the chest, rein- force the heart, and cause the muscles to swell. In the same manner, pleasure is a convincing expe- rience, so that he who laughs must have logic on his side. In the sense of pleasure as power, there is a "will-to-believe," a conviction that triumphs over both error and sorrow. Enjoyment is thus a form of energy utilized by both will and intellect, so that he who would succeed in art, politics, business, or what not, must have great capacity for the joy of life. 24 XIII THE PSYCHOLOGY OF WORK THE employer is on the lookout for the man who is "not afraid of work," but is work a thing to be dreaded? The nation does not advertise for soldiers who are "not afraid to fight," so that it seems as though work were the thing in life to be feared. The reason why work seems fearful is because we dread it in the form of toil, or the work performed by the slave, who got his living out of his ceasless efforts, but who had no chance to look out from his work into vistas of possibility. In the form of hopeless, aim- less toil, work is a thing to be feared. A stage higher and a bit less fearful than toil is labor, a. form of activity in which the wage paid allows a certain amount of freedom. Just as the old form of work was that of toil, so that work performed by the artisan of the day has about it the uncertainty incident upon both the will of the employer and the dictate of the labor-leader. The psychological meaning of work is found in the ideas that work is something which the individual does as coming from himself, although with Emerson one must lament that nothing is so rare with a man as a deed of his own. Those who strike for freedom in 25 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY work have their minds on work's wage, or work's limit in hours, when the true freedom of work appears in the idea that what you are doing with your hands is that which is dictated by your brain. To realize the ideal possibilities of work, one must put both personality and intelligence into what his hands find to do. An artist like sculptor or painter, actually toiling and laboring over his work realizes work's meaning, since he substitutes personality for toil, intelligence for labor. If every artisan could work as an artist, the labor problem would be solved in a way almost impossible for Congress or the labor union. Work becomes genuine when there is a certain touch of beauty added to it, and the true worker is he who can see fairness and take pride in what he is doing. If one be a mere assistant, helper, or "holder- on," the touch of beauty will take the toil out of work. There were days, say in the thirteenth century, when personality, intelligence, and beauty made work real; such days may come again. If the outer aim of work is to get value out of the world, the inner purpose is to get worth out of the worker. Work properly done is one thing which a man may call his own. 26 XIV PSYCHOLOGY AND PLAY THERE is very little sincere appreciation of art, of the fine arts from architecture to music. Some affect aesthetics, others scoff at extra refinement; but art moves on of its own force, as winter waters sweep along underneath the ice. But, why art? Why this emphasis upon adorn- ment when beauty does not bake bread or pay bills? There must be some reason for the semi-conscious longing for the beautiful in nature and the five fine arts. Wherein does it consist, and how does art take hold of man? Art is play. Play is the free expression of spon- taneous and superabundant activity within the brain. The ordinary demands of life, even in such strenuous times as these, and the daily answer to the imperative interrogatives, "What shall we eat, and drink, where- withal shall we be housed and clothed?" cannot pre- vent the perpetual quest of the beautiful. As a form of play, art shows its nature in the sports as well as in the arts. Throwing a ball back and forth, batting it here and there over a net, smiting it from hole to hole, and all such extravagant ways of consuming energy have in them the quintessence of the artistic. 27 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY The Greeks used such athletic movements to perfect aesthetic forms. Out of their games and battles they brought the great arts. American art is in the fluid form. We have the play-activity, but neither the genius nor the appreciation which are necessary for fixing these in their proper form. At heart, all of us are artists. We are more will- ing to consume time and energy in play than in work. We prefer playing tennis to beating carpets, swinging the bat to handling the hoe, throwing a ball to remov- ing rocks from the field, driving a tin car to steering a truck. That is, we prefer the useless, playful and artistic. Play's the thing. Then, we still cling to the primi- tive life, as its forms of combat reappear on diamond and gridiron. The old-time music of the war-whoop re-echoes in the college yell, the grand opera of our academic institutions. How greatly to be desired were a rational change from European warfare to the recent Olympian games! — ^We need to become Greeks and Indians again. 28 XV MORE THAN FIVE SENSES nPRADITION has hit upon the number five to indi- -■- cate the number of fingers on the hand, toes on the foot, points on the star. As far as the senses are concerned, the number five is not half large enough, for we have extra senses — the thermal, static, muscu- lar, hunger, thirst, and the sense of movement. These senses are the range-finders of the brain, and it was probably because there was no separate sense for electrical phenomena that the physical force of magnetism was not discovered along with those of sound, light, hard and soft, rough and smooth. In dealing with the senses, the best psychological exer- cise consists in seeking out just what the sensation is. Do your eyes seem more than color and brightness, your ears hear more than noise and tone, your tongue taste more than sweet, sour, bitter, salt? Do you really taste coffee? If so, why does the flavor of your beverage disappear when you hold your nose? Can you taste peppermint when you have a cold in your head? Does ammonia really have an odor? Questions like these will sharpen your knowledge of sensation, and you wiU see what the various senses can and cannot do for you. Just how faint a sound 29 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY can you hear? Is it not possible that a cat has the better ears than man's? Can you see in the "dark" the way owls and other creatures can? Questions like these will open up the way to a quantitative study of the sensational mind. The senses have their own way of behaving, so diat if you gaze steadily upon red you will see a green border on the red object. If you place the points of a pair of scissors upon the tip of your finger, they wiU feel like two points while on the back of the hand, the arm, the shoulder they may be spread far apart and still feel like one. Different trades develop different degrees of fine- ness in sensation. The artist sees color to which we are blind, the musician hears overtones to which we are deaf, the surgeons, the jeweler feels bits of pres- sure to which we are dull. The more we know about matter, the more we learn about mind. Almost any day may see the discovery of some new sense. 30 XVI PLODDERS AND DREAMERS TF the mind did no more than photograph the scenes -'- which lay before it, there would not be so many psychological problems for us. What the mind does may be likened to matching shades of silk and ribbon in the dim light of a store, for the mind picks out from its supply the nearest shade to the one presented to it. Out of this process, which is that of perception, comes the plodder or the dreamer, or a third kind of personality. The plodder sees things about as they are, al- though he does not note that the actualities of nature may have possibilities lurking in them. The plod- ding type of mind, famous for faithfulness and exact- ness, misses much that may come when memory takes unto itself the wings of imagination. But the plod- der has his place, and can change his mental habits. The dreamer-type of mind needs only a suggestion from the outer world ; then begins a sort of self -hypno- tism in which the dreamer surrenders to his visions of bright possibility. In the dreamer-mind, a pumpkin is a coach-and-four, mice become horses. Such a mind will write the poems, tell the stories, invent theories; it should have its place in the school of the world. 31 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY If plodder and dreamer could exchange places for an hour each dayj they would be better off; since the plodder needs wings, while the dreamer should learn to touch the ground with a firmer grip. In your own mentality, you will have to find out which type of mind possesses you, so that you can make im- provements. If you plod on in the stolidity of faithfulness, it might be better for you to give your better nature a rest, and indulge your brain in a little romanticism. If you are dreamy, and are thus inclined to mistake the clouds in your brain for realities, you will suffer no harm when you come down and trudge side by side with the plodder. A third mental type, which is by no means as dis- tinct, does not forego its free fancies, but tries in each case to see that they match something in the con- crete world of experience. On the other hand, when this kind of mind deals with grim realities, it seeks to touch them up with intelligence and ideality. As dreamy East is East and plodding West is West, so with oriental and occidental types of mind, but it is possible to bring about an understanding between the two. 32 XVII HAVE YOU A FALLEN ARCH? TN the walk of life, you want to make headway just -■- as fast, just as smoothly as you can; to do this you will have to look out for the fallen arch, the fallen arch in the foot as also the slipping down of your mental supports. If you have a weak arch at head or foot, you need an arch support, something to keep you erect and well poised. If you examine your nature, you will see that there are many arches in your nature as there are in a Gothic cathedral, and all of them are susceptible to the fall. If you give up your initiative for the sake of imitating some one else, if you drop your own view for the general opinion of men, if you exchange your own ideas for the views of other people, your brain will suffer from a fallen arch. People who are mentally flat-footed are ungainly, make slow progress, and soon grow weary when they are afoot. Hiere is plenty of flat-footing in politics, where the mass of voters ballot according to what the boss says, not in accordance with what they them- selves think. Then there is a kind of shuffling along in the trend of fashion which makes us wear what tail- ors think we ought to put on our backs, not what we believe to be comfortable and becoming. 33 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY It is your right and duty to put your foot down, the moment that anything interferes with your own men- tal gait, at that moment the arch begins to cave in. People talk about " back bone " and a " stiff upper lip;" what they need just as much as these is a firm arch for support and progress. Civilization has always been threatening our human arches; if we had remained like the Indians we should not have so many foot-troubles. As long as a man has to shift for himself in the world, just so Ibng his arches support him; but when civilization offers him all sorts of aids, his arches in head and foot begin to weaken, and he shuffles along in an uncomfortable fashion. The cure for the fallen arch of the mind and the flat foot of the will is not so easy to find. Shoe- makers have devices for the real fallen arch, but if your mental support is down, you will have to find a way of bracing it up. Confidence and firmness will do this. Watch your arch! 34 XVIII A SNEEZE TF we bless the man who invented sleep, how greatly -'- should we praise the man who discovered the sneeze? Taking snufF is out of style, but one can easily understand how our forefathers loved to be tickled in the nostrils so that they might have a good sneeze. The glory of the sneeze is found in the spontaneous act of inhalation and equally spontaneous exhala- tion. Along with this respiratory revolution, there is a tonic effect noted by the heart, just as there is a sense of exhilaration felt in the whole muscular apparatus above the waist. Lung, heart, and muscle have one delicious moment. If one knows how to sneeze, he is in a position to become aware of the fact that there is something to him as a person; for the true sneeze is the sneeze of selfhood. As a rule, we employ the human self selfishly; we use it as a hand which reaches out to lay hold of things which our misleading sense of acquisitiveness thinks are worth while. But the hand is not the brain, or the purse, personality. The sneeze of selfhood is an act which arises spon- taneously from within, and goes forth into the world 35 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY simply because there is power behind the sneezing in- dividuaL True selfhood, such as that felt by the man of genius, is so much self-expression, so much sneez- ing. We do not think of Caesar's fortune, even though he left quite a will. We do not ask how much Na- poleon would have bad to pay in income-tax, or what the film-royalties of Shakespeare would have amounted if his plays had been movied. We think of these men as exhaling personal power, as sneezing. People are always telling us that our lives need more virtue, more wisdom, more efficiency; and per- haps they do. Just as much do they need more of that mental and moral effervescence which comes from the feeling of extra power within. Our lives need more sneezing, which should be the involuntary ex- pression of that mental effervescence. Perhaps we need some of the snuff which the old people used to take as stimulant for the glorious sneeze. Our snuff may be found in a good book which has the power to awaken us to the fact that we too may have some sort of mind in our own brains. Very often these stimulating books arouse the physi- cal sneeze by virtue of the dust which has been al- lowed to gather in the pages. You have a right to sneeze, to express forcefully what slumbers within you. If you cannot do this naturally, try a little literary snuff. 36 XIX THE HANG-DOG LOOK HUMAN life is one grand attempt to avoid the hang-dog look. Shoulder and neck are equipped with muscles — ^the trapezii — ^which work to hold the head back. They are the check-reins in the harness of the human steed ; they keep the head from being hang- dog. To hold your head up is a constant but unconscious form of activity in which you indulge throughout all your waking hours. Grow drowsy in chair or bed, and your neck-muscles surrender you to the hang- dog look. But without your will and of themselves, the muscles work for you to make you look like a man. One might imagine that the head were placed upon the shoulders as a column upon a capital, but the fact is that it is only by your constant effort, or the effort of those trapezii muscles, that your head keeps its balance. Your will works, not merely to advance you, but to keep you as you are. You must will in order to exist, if nothing else. There must be no let up, or the hang-dog look will set in. When the trench has been taken, the army must keep on fighting to hold its new position. Man 37 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY is not a machine that is put together, but an organism which must keep on living, or cease to occupy space in the world. The self is the head which you must hold up and keep away from hang-doggedness by constant activity on the part of the will. You can say, "I am I," or "Here I am." You must keep on working or you will cease to exist. The man strives to secure a position, the candidate works to obtain office, but the real work begins when position and office are achieved. If work ceases then, the man becomes hang-dogged. Plenty of people have the hang-dog look, perhaps because they do not understand that to live is to work, to exist is to will, to have is to hold. All existence is a kind of activity, and those who do not see this soon become as dogs, weak infants, and drowsy people. They show the hang-dog look. When poet and philosopher advise one to will him- self, they merely counsel one to keep pulling on the muscles of the neck. Man will never become a giraffe by stretching his neck, but he will continue to be man, and will avoid the hang-dog look. 38 XX ARE YOU RIM FIRE? T3EF0RE the war, it was not an uncommon sight -■-' to see rifles and pistols with little rim-fire car- tridges, which exploded as soon as they were touched on the edges of the metal. Since the war, we have grown used to great things, great men, great issues; that is, we have thrown little rim-fire cartridges out of our belts, and have filled them with ammunition which is centre fire; it will not shoot until it is hit right in the centre. The question for you to decide is whether your na- ture is such that it explodes easily like the old-style cartridge, or whether you have taught yourself to shoot only when something central and vital in your nature has been appealed to. Perhaps there is more to your nature than you imagine ; since this is most likely the case, it will be well for you to try the centre fire car- tridge of your brain. The rim-fire man goes off in response to mere im- pressions when he should turn these over in his mind to see whether they have in ihem any of the central ideas of the brain. Just as the little rim-fire car- tridge snaps as soon as it is touched, so this type of man explodes in the form of "snap judgment," snap- action, snap emotion. He has still to learn how to use the centre-fire cartridge. 39 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY The moment you begin to think and act in accord- ance with what is in your own nature and what is peculiar to your own experience, you begin to use the centre-fire forces in your mind. You have die will, which is like the hammer in the rifle; all that the will needs is the cartridge which is made to ex- plode when its very centre is touched and then only. As Americans, we are beginning to see that the old style shooting will not hit the mark the way it used to. We cannot be provincial, selfish, and isolated from the rest of the world; as Americans we must drop our rim-fire ammunition for the new style of cartridge. We honor the men who won victories with flint-locks, but we need better guns and we have them, too. When you become centre-fire, you will say less and utter more ; you will do less but accomplish more ; you will have fewer emotions and more experience. Your life is something more than a shooting-gallery; it is a battle-field where your cartridge must be cen- tre-fire. 40 XXI FALSE WINDOWS IN THE BRAIN JUST as an architect tries to make a house look symmetrical by placing false windows by the side of the real ones, so people are often tempted to put only the sash and blind in the place where there should be a real source of illumination. The houses and brains thus treated may look better from the outside, but there is no increase of candle-power within. The brain-windows are false. One great aim, and one as great and genuine as any, is to have light and enjoy it; since light has the power to illumine, to cheer, and sometimes to cure ills. If we lived in the open, we should be better off; but since we have decided as civilized beings to come indoors, the subject of windows has become important. False windows appear as soon as a person is under the delusion he is possessed of all the illumination, all the knowledge of out-doors. In contrast with this, we have the sober example of a Socrates, who ad- mitted that his knowledge was no more than an in- tense consciousness of ignorance. Socrates had done away with all the false windows of his brain. Education, while its main purpose is to give light, 41 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY may serve as a false window. Because a person has studied poetry, it does not follow that he has become poetical. If he has followed science, it is not certain that the secrets of nature have been opened to him. The fact that he knows economics, will not make him a success in finance. Poetry, science, and wealth come only to those whose brain windows are genuine, not false and showy. Windows serve as well the purpose of ventila- tion. When we meet a person whose ideas are stuffy and traditional, we know that he has not had enough brain-windows open; perhaps his windows have been only false, attractive affairs which have admitted no air into the halls of his brain. On the other hand, the man or woman who has original ideas, phrases, plans, is obviously one whose windows are real af- fairs through which light and air stream freely. If we paid more attention to what was going on within the walls of the brain and thought less about appearances, we should live brighter, more airy lives. If you have any false windows, get your saw and cut them out. 42 XXII THE MUZZLE VELOCITY OF MIND T)EOPLE are in the habit of blaming others for •*- exaggeration, because this sort of excess is in- dulged in by the tongue. Doubtless we talk more than is necessary, our adjectives abound, we are guilty of over-statement. But there is a kind of exaggera- tion which has its place in the same way that the extreme muzzle-velocity plays a part with the shell that is to land twenty miles away. For that sort of operation, there must be excessive muzzle-velocity. Great work means a high degree of muzzle-velocity on the part of the mind which plans great deeds. The orator who seems to whisper to the hearers in the back row really shouts to those who are in front. The actor who seems natural to the spectators is ex- aggerating every movement, tone, or bit of mimicry. The singer who is to reach ears and hearts puts an extra amount of tone and feeling into every note. With all of these performers, the muzzle-velocity of the mind is carefully calculated and executed. Conscious exaggeration is one of the marks peculiar to genius, so that Shakespeare or Dante is little more than th'e average man raised to the second power; he is the ordinary man exaggerating his ideas so 43 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY that they will carry like the shells shot from the gun with great muzzle-velocity. The successful person may he reserved in his speech, but he exaggerates in his actions. The can- didate who wants a thousand votes acts as though he were after a million. The salesman who wishes to sell a dollar's worth has the intense air of a man who would make the bill a hundred. He is selling, not a book, but a library, not a chair but a suite of furniture, not a collar but a suit of clothes. He exaggerates by means of enterprise and courtesy. The exaggeration which comes from intense muz- zle-velocity comes from the psychological sense of superabundance, so that when we come to deal with the person who is intense we are made to feel that there is a great deal behind what he says and does. In order to operate a great range, the successful person overdoes the little things. To be one of the "big guns," you will have to overdo the common task, for the whole charge must go off behind each shell. 44 XXIII ARE YOU GETTING DOG EARED? THE best books are the most likely to become dog- eared, because they are read so much that the pages turn down and frazzle out at the comers; in exactly the same way, the good man and efficient worker are the ones most likely to become a dog- eared man because they use their brains and bodies too much. The man of leisure among either the rich or poor is not so liable to this malady in the ears. Routine is a good thing, and the engineer who runs his locomotive over the same route gets to be the best kind of man for that particular trip. In the same way, the man who has stuck to figures, or sold goods, or kept his mind on advertising is the most valuable sort of man to have in connection with the house. Nevertheless, these good men are like the best books, since both have the tendency to wear out on the edges and become dog-eared. The dog-eared man needs a rest, but a rest in the best sense of the term, which does not mean idleness. His rest can come from a temporary change of oc- cupation, or it may come about in the midst of routine work as an avocation which the man takes to refresh his mind. 45 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY President Garfield was famous for his side-inter- est in geometry, a famous bishop was known as a fine checker-player, Franklin flew kites, a well-known madiematician collected plants, a great financier col- lected paintings. On a less pretentious scale, the average man may save the book of business from becoming dog-eared when that man hits upon some side interest which will give him little by-products of the main enterprise. Just as some travellers relieve the monotony of the journey by making the hum of the wheels play dif- ferent tunes, so the necessary sameness of life and work many be turned into music by all those who have ears to hear. Dog-ears on men often come when the man has given himself up to old ideas, and if men stick to those they wake up sometimes to find themselves in a sanatarium. If a man wants to be like a crisp volume right off the press, he ought to keep his brain open to new convictions; a man who gets away from the idea that everything will always be the same is the man who is saving himself from becoming dog-eared. 46 XXIV "SKULL PRACTICE" THIS vivid but undignified term serves to indi- cate the importance which cool thought has for ardent action; for it is only as the preparatory thought works itself out in the "skull" that action can spring forth unfettered from the hand. The will stands in need of motivating ideas, which must be per- fected and smoothed out in what is called skull prac- tice. It is not only in athletics with signal-drills and the practice behind closed gates that mental prepara- tion is of use. The mural painter, Puvis de Chavannes was in the habit of spending days before the blank wall-spaces he was to paint before he ever laid his brush to the plaster. He had to see his picture in his brain before he could let others see it upon the wall, and the fidelity of the preliminary painting in the mind was a measure of the perfec- tion which the painting was to attain. From what we can gather of Marshal Foch's strategy, it seems as though the battle were first fought out within the coils of his own brain; the actual combat was but the bloody realization of the clear cut ideas which he had fought through in his own 47 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY military mind. It was the lack of just this "skull practice" which was responsible for the downfall of German arms. The surgeon who is to succeed in a difficult, dan- gerous operation in major surgery wiU be careful to operate first upon his own brain; that is, he will go through the acts which a few hours later are to become the real touches of the operation. With- out such "bloodless surgery" beforehand the opera- tion is not so likely to be successful. In place of such brain-practice, those who think about their work, their duties, their problems are more likely to surrender to day-dreams. This loose- ness of the mind is far removed from that tight proc- ess which the athlete has assigned to the hard skull. Indeed it may be said that to think the act through is often more difficult than to carry it into opera- tion. In the same way that a little calisthenic exercise in the morning is good for the whole bodily system, so a bit of morning "skull practice" will serve the worker in the tasks he is to perform. If he has been through such mental calisthenics, the actual work will move with unexpected smoothness and speed. There is plenty of room in the brain for "skull prac- tice;" there is quite a gymnasium there. 48 XXV LAUGHING BEFORE BREAKFAST IT would seem as though the earliest hours of the day, in the reddest rays of the dawn and the fresh- est winds of Heaven, one would best do his laugh- ing; since night has effaced memory of the past while day has come with its promises. Neverthe- less, we are advised that he who laughs before break- fast will weep before night. How is this bit of grandmother-psychology to be explained? In dealing with our emotions, we are soon brought to the realization that the amount of feeling which we have is limited; our hopes and fears, loves and hates, pleasures and pains are constricted by the copious but definite amount of blood in our veins. So then, he who has just so much laughter must be careful how to expend it, and the early laugh of dawn may find the individual empty of smiles and full of tears when evening comes. Over and above the tendency of emotion to ex- haust itself through expression, there is an emotional shifting which can easily turn laughter to tears. In the instance of the babe, whose emotional system is no harder than its cranium, there is the observed tendency to pass from tears to smiles, for the child 49 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY has a way of shifting from one source to the other, just as it can easily mix the two in one fairly com- plete state of mind. In the last analysis, we are all children of emotion. It has been noted by the historian that the worst moment for a bad government is that moment when it begins to grow better. This paradox of emotion may be due to the idea of contrast between the new present and the old past with its pains; or it may involve the idea that emotion is sure to shift from one course to another, so that the common man who has endured with stolid patience finds himself aroused by causes which are less influential than those of the past. Emotions like laughter and tears are sure to ex- haust their powers and give way to something differ- ent, aye contradictory. The soul that has received extra-good news or fortune may "weep for joy," while the saddened person will often express his grief by a cynical smile. Changes and contradictions are the rules which apply to all forms of emotional expres- sion. Life is a matter of laughter, since both life and laughter mean power to overcome difficulties. As the amount of power we possess is limited, so is the amount of laughter. If we laugh first, we cannot laugh last. 50 XXVI CONSCRIPTING YOUR OWN BRAIN CELLS XDSYCHOLOGY is not clairvoyance, not astrology; -■- if there are faults with us they lie in ourselves, not in our stars. One may look for signs in the sky or omens on earth, but it is better to have in- side information. It would be a fine thing if one had a kind of mental secretary to whom he could say, "Please tell me what I am thinking about, or what I am going to do." The brain itself must be this private secretary, and the sooner one comes to an understanding with his brain the better. In that brain are bubbles which rise above the long conscious stream which started when man started, and it is for you to know just where these bubbles will appear. This is what makes inside information an important matter. One should realize that the equipment of his mind is vast, its stores wholesale in their magnitude, its history really prehistoric. In a mystical way, the Hindus try to believe that the individual is the whole world in himself, and so he says of every existing thing: "That art thou." In a more temperate man- ner, one may say of every existing thing that it may have meaning for him, who may be the "mute, inglori- 51 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY ous Milton," or any other grand character in history. People used to play upon this idea when they in- formed the boy that he might some day become Presi- dent. Inside information lets one know that he is "in" on all that goes on in the world. Goethe said he never heard of a crime which he could not have committed, and one might say generally that he never heard of anything that he could not have done. As an idea this feeling of being "in" on all the deeds and events of the world is a good thing; it gives a man confi- dence, and lets him feel that he is the great man on a small scale, or in another situation. One has a right to become acquainted with himself, with his Self. Psychology has the advantage of telling one that practically all there is to the mind is a receiver of impressions, reacting upon impulses in the light, moist air of emotion. The lessons of psychology are like the great commandments of the Law, Receive the world; react upon that world. You have the right to conscript the cells of your brain, put them in psychological uniform, and make them fight. It is your duty to mobilize your brain. 52 XXVII THE OTHER MAN'S MIND nPHE tighter becomes physical science, the looser -I- are the ways in which we tend to regard the mind: rationalism is accompanied by spiritualism, materialism by New Thought, occultism, astrology and mind-reading. In these forms of effervescence, man seeks relief from the restraints of reason and scientific calculation. Why should you try to read another's mind when your own is a book which you have not opened? Why do you try to read by moonlight when you have failed to use the brighter sunlight? Your own mind is a book written in your mother-tongue; your neigh- bor's is in hieroglyphic. Become a mind-reader, but let your mental charity begin at home. You may read into your neighbor's mind by con- sidering how you feel under similar conditions. He has eyes and ears, heart and soul in the same way that you have. "There is no breach in nature like the breach between two minds," said William James. "I know," said Pestalozzi, "that no man is either will- ing or able to help any other man." At the same time, the breach between minds can be bridged over, timnelled under, flown across in a mental airplane. 53 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY It is obvious that if one blinks he sees light, if he turns his head he hears sound, if his eyes open wide he is afraid, if he concentrates on something nearby when you are talking he is probably paying attention to what you say. By looking into his eyes you can see in their light-shade whether your argument is get- ting back into his brain or is being resisted at the eye-lids. This is genuine mind-reading; it is the study of the other man's mind as a primer. A general like Marshal Foch could read the Teu- tonic mind in the trenches. A diplomat like Lloyd George could and did read the German mind at Potsdam. In the same way, the good pitcher reads the batter's mind and vice versa. We are not as far apart as we may imagine, just as we are not so dull in mind-reading as we may have supposed. Nation knows nation; sex, sex; class, class; child, child. The secret of it is sympathy which puts you in the other man's place and sympathy which puts the other man's place in you. Our country needs mutual understanding more than it needs ships. It needs national mind-readers more than it needs Senators. Make a beginning by read- ing the minds in your own home, own community. 54 XXVIII WHERE DELAY IS DANGEROUS T^OR the painter to lay his colors on a dry canvas -■- with the chance of scraping them off is one thing; to paint in the fresh with wet plaster is a task far more difficult. The latter is the fresco-method; it in- volves the sure touch of the artist who has no op- portunity to change his work. In the case of the human brain, the fresco-method is necessary, if one is to develop his mentality to the highest degree of perfection. If we regard the brain as so much dry, drab canvas to be painted at leisure, we make a mistake ; since the brain is moist and plas- tic, so that its walls and ceilings must be treated with- out delay. To deal properly with the mind is to lay the im- pression on as soon as it comes before the mind. In the art of remembering, it is necessary to have the immediate touch of attention, and when one has taken note of a name, a fact, a number, he is not likely to forget it. The idea has been put upon the brain in the way that the paint of the artist was laid upon the receptive plaster. In addition to this mechanical idea of the brain, there is the added thought that, as paint upon the wall 55 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY or ceiling preserves the plaster, so a certain amount of mental adornment is of value in preventing the mind from decaying. One may think perhaps that the attempt to beautify his life were but a luxury to be indulged in or not, but the psychological fact re- mains that an adorned mind like a frescoed wall is more likely to stand the strain of time. But the preserving adornment is something which must come upon the mind while the brain is fresh and receptive. One may delay in saving money, since gold is a durable substance; but in the realm of brain the delay is dangerous. It is in recognition of this fact that the old education was in the habit of giving esthetic training while the mind was fresh and pliable. The furnishing of the room may come later, but the frescoing must be taken up at once or it will be too late. If you have been looking upon your mind as so much dry canvas, begin to regard it as moist plaster; then you will see the importance of the fresco-method with the brain. 56 XXIX THE POWER OF ATTENTION WHEN we strive to pay attention to something which we deem important, we should realize that the mind is apt to turn its powers in the direction of certain objects, ideas, or thoughts which some- how have the power to interest it. Mind itself is a kind of attention, and like a stream follows certain channels. In an old curiosity shop, the artist notices the pic- tures; the soldier, the old weapon; the student, the book; a woman, the old costume. What we have in us by nature or training thus comes forth to greet its kind in the objects about us. Our attention is guided by our general interest. In addition to these general objects of attention, the mind seizes upon objects which are like those which have just passed before our gaze. If you have listened to the call of the thrush, you will hear the cry of the warbler; if you have noted the bridge over which you have just passed, you will be ready for the rumble of the train over the next one. In its process of attention, the mind makes note now of the great things that men noted in the past. In this way, ancestral attention makes us note the 57 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY soldier, whom the ages have honored, just as the minds of our fore-fathers bid us heed tales of love and romance. If it were not for these inherited atten- tions, we should not be impressed by the man in uni- form or the story of human sentiment. You can experiment with your own attention by ob- serving what topics reported in the daily paper lay hold of your mind. Did you notice the rise or fall of certain stocks, the doings in realty, the result of the base-ball game, the appearance of a new book on geology, the affairs in Japan? Your attention was guided by what was already in your mind by nature, education, social training, personal interest The world sets up for the mind certain objects which the world thinks worth noticing. As a result, people are persuaded that fighting is better than farm- ing, that position in society or politics is preferable to the cultivation of talent. Attention grows like a weed; the thing to do with it is to cultivate it. For the next twenty-four hours, try to observe something new to you. 58 XXX YOUR WILL WORKS ALL THE TIME WORKS on will-power with their promises that they will teach you the secret of success, happi- ness, and health are made possible by the fact that the will is a mystery. About it almost anything can be said — freedom, fate, and occult power. It is true that the ways of human will are strange and past finding out. The old idea was that the will was a sort of sleep- ing lion whose slumbers were not easily disturbed; once aroused, the trouble began. The newer notion is that the will is in perpetual motion, that it is a sort of merry-go-round or stream on which or into which we place our private powers. This led Schopen- hauer to say, "The will is not only free but al- mighty"; or, as we may put it, the will works all the time. Action on the part of man is due to his selecting one among many of his promising impulses; he will leap on this or that train which is moving along its own tracks. In the same way, human action is a kind of signaling to these trains — says "yes" and opening the road to one, saying "no" and closing the track to others. 59 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY The will, however, is not as much of a Bolshevik as one might imagine; it responds to the idea, which must touch it off. The mysterious thing about the will is that it responds to hair-triggers; the slightest thought-impulse is enough to initiate important ac- tion, and a little fire kindles a great matter. In addition to its ideal response, the will has a way of postponing action until the will is ready. You think about getting up in the morning, you have the idea of leaving the office, you plan to go to the game ; but instead of linking idea with act, the will sets up its motions after the idea has come and gone. It works like the "delayed steal" on the diamond, like the "delayed pass" on the gridiron. The idea that you have had, say, a moment ago, an hour ago, a year ago, ten thousand years back in the past when your ancestor did your thinking for you — that idea now comes to the front as something altogether new, and you act. Why do fighting soldiers receive the training of militia, of parade-soldiers? Why all this business of "attention!" "march!" "halt!"? In the skirmish, there will be none of this; no, but the soldier whose will has learned to respond like gun to trigger de- velops a will which obeys instantly. What you think out today will be the act of tomorrow, of the far fu- ture. 60 XXXI WHY WE WELCOME OBSTACLES IT would seem strange if a man expressed prefer- ence for a rough road or a hard task, but it is true that the human will is fond of resistance. Every- body hangs up before his fists some sort of punching- bag, in order that he may enjoy himself through the resistance and reaction of the thing. As Aristotle used to teach, we might live without pleasure, but we could never live without activity. In the same man- ner, we like the activity which has resistance in it. The species has struggled to exist, so that the man who today moves about on the planet is a reminiscence of the creatures who struggled to obtain a foothold upon earth. We cannot forget this struggle ; we must keep up the fight, and so we look for obstacles. In this is the deeper secret of human happiness — having obstacles, setting up obstacles for the sake of over- coming them. The joy of overcoming is the higher life-joy. Men look upon seas as things to be crossed, upon moun- tains as things to be climbed, upon gold as some- thing to be wrested from the earth. The whole af- fair of life is a hurdle-race in which we prefer to have obstacles every now and then. 61 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY What is the psychological secret of this perverse pleasure of ours? It seems to be a situation in which the mind puts will at the top as numerator, the will as the denominator below. The intellect sets up ob- stacles, hurdles for the will to jump, and the will is so constituted that it must find pleasure in the act of overcoming. Why are children usually joyful? It is because the will is in the excess of intellect, so that the tasks which the intellect sets for the will, in school, on the play-ground, in the home, are such that the will can easily overcome them. In the same way, but more pathetically, the twilight happiness of old age comes about when the intellect is the first to leave the field, and in the petty tasks to which the aged person ap- points himself there is plenty of power left in the will. It is the person midway in the stream, the adult who is seeking to secure position, wealth, name, and the like, to whom the obstacle becomes exceptionably real. Even here, the presence of the obstacle is wel- comed, and like Alexander the deepest sigh is for another world to conquer. To resist is human. "Man is of value in proportion to his power to resist life." 62 XXXII THE TERRA FIRMA OF FACTS WE are more on our guard against the sins of the will than the fallacies of the mind, but it is here also that we should struggle against being led into temptation. At heart, we are all Sophists; we make the worse cause appear the better, and seek to prove the point, reason or no reason. Read the arguments for and against the League of Nations and the Prohibition of the States; does a colander hold water any better than these average arguments hold truth? One of the most eminent of fallacies is that which attempts to pass from a general situation to all the specific details which that situation involves. This style of fallacy, the fallacy of accident, is heard quite often from the top of the oratorial soap-box. "There should be justice for all;" quite true in that general way of stating it, but how about the details of a justice which demands due process of law? "The laborer should have the full value of his labor;" no doubt about this, but how can this "full value" be figured out apart from all the financial details of this or that particular concern? The doctrinaire, whether in politics, economics, or 63 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY art, is usually guilty of this fallacy; he is right in his grand premise, but is not able to square it with the minor details of the argument. Any one who has argued, or tried to argue, with a Utopian socialist will recall how his vigorous opponent kept the argu- ment high up above the stubborn facts of everyday experience. At the other extreme is the partisan who will look at no question in a general way, but must discuss it from the stand-point of his community, party, re- ligious denomination, race. The doctrinaire cannot take a nose dive downward to the terra firma of facts, cannot steer his canoe among the real rocks of the situation, but the partisan cannot rise at all, cannot navigate the stream of thought, since he sticks to this provincial viewpoint. The right-minded citizen will avoid both the cos- mopolitan and the provincial points of view. He will not empty his mind of all furniture or clog it with too many what-nots. He will follow the com- pass but will keep a weather-eye to windward. If necessary, you would part with your appendix; are you as willing to have your fallacies removed as so many tonsils? H XXXIII WHY DO YOU LAUGH? LAUGHTER and life are two of the commonest, simplest things, but they are not so easily ex- plained. Indeed, it is often the commonplace af- fair that baffles theory, so that one finds it hard to tell just how a cat purrs. In its purest form laughter is life, the artless glee of children whose powers are coming into being. The more life, the more laughter. Laughter means strength, hence one speaks of the "laughing lion." But there are forms of laughter that are not so pleas- ant to those who hear the merriment. Laughter in the form of the ludicrous arises as one perceives some defect in another; a drunken man, a deaf person, a stammerer seem funny when in reality each is a pathetic example of human life. As the slang expression puts it, "the laugh is on them." Laughter is both self -consciousness and the feeling of superiority. He who is able to raise himself above his fellows laughs at those beneath him. We live in a laughing world, but the tendency to equalize men has worked to reduce the amount of laughter. Some new source of laughter must be found. We laugh at the funny picture because it represents 65 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY the subject of the sketch as being in a position in- ferior to our own. He is about to step into some kind of a pit-fall, or his misdeeds have found him; so we say, "Ha! Ha!" The better laughter, the kind of merriment that is democratic arises when we observe how all men fall short of the mark, how all life is still below the plane of the ideal. It is such laughter that Shakespeare and Ibsen produce. They do not laugh at men but at Man. Real humor binds men together; all behave as though they were at a picnic. Wit often divides men ; satire tends to degrade certain people at the expense of others. There is satirical laughter which advises man that he has not reached his goal; then there is human humor which makes him feel that all are in the same boat. Be careful of your laughter. Don't let the laugh be "on you." If you cannot laugh broadly, do not laugh at all. 66 XXXIV WHERE COMMON SENSE ENDS THE word "real" is about as ambiguous as any word in the language. Common-sense takes it to mean what can be seen, heard, touched ; uncommon- sense believes in what eye hath not seen, or ear heard, or what has not yet entered into the heart of man. According to idealism — "That which is, is not; that which is not, is." Which is right, the solid individual or the dreamer? Imaginary reals may mean more to you than prac- tical ones. Which is the more nearly real, home or apartment, father or man, war or guns, love or caress? Often it seems that the spider-webs of im- magination are more real than the huge beams from which they are suspended. You cannot get at the real in things, acts, or events without a definite amount of imagining. In your case, the whole war took place in your own mind, fed as it was by reports made up of your free imaginings about it. The real of past history is an imagined real in which the historian is poet. The past is just as much a dream as the future. What we call America was a bit of imagination on the part of Columbus, just as victory was originally a 67 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY dream in the brains of Foch, Pershing, Haig. Imag- inative people with their dreams are the leading citi- zens of the national Tomorrow. You have too much common-sense and are too little inclined to fly. You are inclined to say, "What is, is, what will be — will be," when in truth "what is" de- pends upon interpretation; "what will be" hinges on what you will make it. If lack of imagination were the rule of reality, then beasts, idiots, and over-prac- tical people would be correct; sages, poets, scientists, wrong. Imagination is little more than intelligent memory; it gives the inner meaning of memory. In practical life we have facts innumerable with more coming in every day, so that the one thing needful in human knowledge is the weaving process of imagination whereby the raw material of mind may be turned into fabrics. The remedy for too much dreaming is more dream- ing, and you must save yourself from the poison by an overdose. Have we imagined too much about America? We have not yet begun to get the reality of our country from the vast imaginings which it de- serves. 68 XXXV PSYCHOLOGICAL MOMENTS TN the Franco-Prussian War, the Germans talked •*- about the "psychological moment," by which they meant the psychic factor, or momentum, rather than any special time. In this war, they have been talking about The Day. It is Time itself which defeated these same Germans. Do you have psychological moments, or are your times purely physical? Does time act upon you as it has worked upon the stone, as it shows its power in the plant; or do you take the pendulum into your own hands? Do you watch the clock, or do you yourself drive the hands around? Psychological moments are internal; they are marked by clock-wheels within wheels. Time is so arranged that a moment here may be altogether differ- ent from a moment there. All depends upon the will of the individual. The clock is neutral; it marks all hours alike. If you are to have special psychologi- cal moments, you must mark them yourself. True time is such that a cycle of Cathay cannot compare with a century of Europe. Standard time is so constituted that a day in the high courts of Truth and Beauty is better than a thousand upon the low- 69 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY lands of humdrum and drab. The real moment is psychological, soul-like. To make psychological moments, you must look into the clock. The special, sudden moment is meas- ured in terms of insight. When one has seen into the mystery of things, the time-moment is really eter- nal. The first moment when the Wright brothers flew in the simple air-plane had the power to lift them above the mere time of earth to the timelessness of the skies. From that moment forth, the character of time was changed. The times that are psychological are those in which the will takes hold of life and makes resolutions for us. The will has the power to turn Time into Eter- nity. It can change general considerations into the overt act. It can change the earth into a star. Feeling is another factor which has power to change time into timelessness. Grand emotion is so rare with us that we have to pay actors to engender and express it for us. The grand emotion is eternal. It makes the heart stand still and lets it lay hold of the eternal. Perhaps you need to change the clock. You have set it an hour ahead. Why not try to have it mark the depth as well as the length of yOur moments, your psychological ones? 70 XXXVI FOOD FOR THOUGHT A GENERATION ago, they were telling us that, -^^ since phosphorus was good for the brain, we must become wise by eating fish. They might just as well have advised us to become rich by eating gold fish. Just at present, certain advertisements assure us that their breakfast foods are good for tha brain. There is food for thought, even if it does not con- sist of fish or some cereal. In the pantry of the brain, there is a five-foot shelf, perhaps, but it is bet- ter to go out to the garden for the brain's true food. The garden is life and the world. From such a gar- den the writer gathers his food instead of taking it from a can. The world is a pasture where you may browse for a long time. Shall we be camels or cows? The camel has five stomachs, the cow but one. Shall we fill up five men- tal stomachs, or chew the cud from the one which we really have? If food for thought is real food, it is a cud worth chewing over and over again. Lincoln's mental stomach contained comparatively little, but he chewed it over and over again. They say that of all the men of his day he read the least and thought the most. His cowlike mental stomach let him chew the cud. 71 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Mental restaurants, with their quick lunch arrange- ments, are quite common in these days of perpetual hurry up. But nothing can take the place of the mind's own kitchen with its home-cooking. Plato knew no kitchenette or quick lunch counter. Before books were printed, he managed to find food for thought. Shakespeare's library could not have been much larger than a set of his own works. He could not have read one tenth the number of books which have been written about his plays. Yet, he had plenty of food for thought. Thought is food for thought. The book is the ap- petizer or the dessert, little more. Perhaps your mind suffers from mal-nutrition. If so, give it food for thought. 72 XXXVII HAVE YOU A JUDICIAL MIND? EVERY man is on the bench of a court which is supreme — ^to him. We are so constituted that we pass sentence upon everything which passes be- fore us — ^books and plays, fighters and athletes, beauty and ugliness. Is lynching right? Should Italy keep Fiume? Were the Reds really better than the White Sox? Life, liberty, and the right to judge seem to us to be the real benefits of the Con- stitution. But our main trouble in the judgeship lies in the fact that we set all ideas or things in pairs, and then take one side to the exclusion of the other. It is so simple, so we think, that the college debater can take either side of the question. Then all of us feel that we ought to judge, and that it is cowardly to keep out of the mental fray. The number of decisions which come from these private courts would fill a five-mile shelf of cases, and that every day of the calendar year. To judge is instinctive, like swallowing, laughing, sneezing. It is only the irresponsible person who withdraws from the forensic scene, and says, "Nit- chevo," or "I should worry." The average person is 73 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY interested; he feels that his ideas are important. You are supposed to have opinions, but "snap-judg- ments" are as unsatisfactory as snap-shots. Certain great shifts have come about of late, and in new lights do we survey old questions. The Germans are not the salt of the earth; "made in Germany" proves very little. Nowadays Republicans behave like old Democrats and vice versa. Certain labor leaders begin to argue like capitalists. England sees that democracy is real; America begins to feel the importance of the State. If mankind generally can change its views, why cannot you make your ideas more flexible? Keep on judging, but beware of the personal and partisan. The habit of viewing questions as a man, as a woman, as southerner, as business man, is a habit; that is the best one can say about it. It is natural to split the question and then consider one side only; it is better to look at both sides at once and see where the misfit comes. The judicial mind in literature, politics, art, busi- ness, is a need the greater than which our country does not know today. 74 XXXVIII FEELING YOUR WAY IF it is a fair question, did you not often feel that you we're by the side of Marshal Foch whom you advised as to certain points of strategy during his defensive drives of months ago? Were you not in the trenches, and did you not say, "Come on, fel- lows!" as the doughboys went over the top? How about the recent world-series; did you not take your turn in the box or at the bat when one of the crucial moments came? If you did not do any such thing, if you have not the habit of so feeling your way that you put yourself into Life and its various situations, you will hardly understand why psychology calls Empathy, a tend- ency on the part of the individual to put himself into life here and there as his wrought-up fancy pleases. Most travellers are willing to confess that upon visit- ing a strange land they have wondered how the cities could have been put there without their own aid. Think it over, and find out how empathic you are. We counsel a man to be fair when we say, "Put yourself in his place." But this is just what we do all the time, only we are more likely to introduce our personalities into scenes than other people's skins. 75 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY We are all empathic, egoistic, self -centered, and that is why we wish we could have been at Versailles, or could now be in the Senate, where our brains are so sorely needed. This habit of feeling one's way into life is a good thing until the percentage of the fancy becomes too high. It is the first step toward sympathy; it makes one believe that he is one with the whole world. It can become a bad habit when it is taken too literally, as in the case of King George IV, who kept asserting that he had been at the battle of Waterloo until finally he came to believe it himself. Beware of such Waterloos. You must feel your way as well as will and think your way about in the world. Your empathic tend- ency will help you in becoming a teacher, a salesman, an engineer. You may start out by feeling that you have been this already, and some one may try to palm off ideas of previous existence. At any rate, you have the right to feel that you have been almost in this or that position which you try to fill; then you will suc- ceed all the more easily. You are not needed in the Senate or on the big league team, but you are needed elsewhere, so that you do well to feel your way, to feel that you have arrived. 76 XXXIX WHAT IS THE HORSE-POWER OF THE WILL? WHEN you play the ace, do you gain any more tricks by slapping the little card down with great force, or is the work of the high card independ- ent of any muscular power which you put behind it? In this simple question there is involved the secret of the human will. What is the horse-power of the will ; how may it be increased? The common notion of volition is that of the card- player who puts force into his play. Many people are of the impression that to will means to exert force, to make noise, when the most perfect fly-wheel of a vast engine gives the idea of silence, of passivity. It must be that will-force, the will-to-do-this-and-that is found in some other place than the power-house of the brain. The key to the will is in the idea behind it, just as the key to the suit of cards lies in the silent ace. The man who uses his will properly, whether in toil- ing, selling goods, or leading a company of soldiers is the man who makes the Idea direct and energize what he wishes to do. As soon as one sees that his will responds to an idea, and does not work like a spring or rubber band, 77 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY he begins to see further that the power of will may be increased by clarifying and fortifying of ideas. The man of the new will comes to believe in the horse- power of his own consciousness. In this, which may seem new, lies the secret of Hatha Yoga among the Hindus. The man with an intellectualized will, or practical Yoga, comes to believe that he can do more and better than he has ever done before. If he has walked ten miles at a time, he knows that he can walk twenty. If he has done a good piece of work, he knows that he can do better. If he has paddled across the creek, he feels that he can swim across the river. It is not the will which is weak or incapable but the intellect, which is, or should be, behind that will. When you realize that you are using but a fraction of your brain, that you are going only half of your proper distance, that you are working or playing in only ordinary form, the idea behind the will informs you that you can do more. This kind of believing has won the war in face of greater physical force. This kind of intellectual will always wins. It is a will-to-believe and to do. 78 XL HABITS GOOD AND BAD TT would seem strange if an old-time drinker whose -^ alcoholic thirst had been put out of date were to advertise, "A Habit Wanted," but this would be true of human nature. If we do not have one habit we have another, and so long as the practice is habitual our brains do not seem to care whether the practice be good or bad. Now that the drink-habit is out of the way, it may be well to look for some new habit, just as the old inspiration once afforded by the wine-cup may have to come in some more direct way of making the nerves tingle. One cannot easily account for habits after the anal- ogy of the tracks over which our actions usually run; it is wiser to think of these habitual practices as the rubber tires which make our wills run smoothly al- most anywhere. To save trouble, nature has equipped us with processes, the employment of which makes life easier for us. These processes are tend- encies which our forefathers may have set up for us or which we may have elaborated upon our own re- sponsibility. Why is it that people from the country have a gait whose strong, plodding steps make the man from up- 79 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY state quite different from the man of Broadway, Main Street, or the boulevard? Long ago, Balzac sug- gested that the dapper gait of the city bred man is a habit engendered by the constant need of stopping at curbs, of turning out on the sidewalk to avoid colli- sion, while' the solid walk of the countryman arose in a situation where there was no need to stop or turn. This sounds reasonable, and shows that city-life has an unexpected advantage. The peculiarity of habit, good or bad, is that it gives us more pain when we do not follow it than it bestows pleasure when we do. If we do not do this or that at a certain time, we are uneasy, not because we wish to go to the movies or read the paper, but because we have always done these upon certain occa- sions, at definite times. You need your habits, if not all of your old ones, then certain new, serviceable ones along with some of the old ways. The well-read man does not devour so many volumes, but he makes a business of reading something each day. The clever writer does not rush off a great story as from a reel, but he has the habit of using his pen daily. The rich man may have made no great stroke, but he had the saving habit, which is worth more than money. It is better to have bad habits than none at all, good ones are better, but the main thing is eternal habit. 80 XLI STATES OF MIND THE person who is guided by his states of mind is like Eliza crossing the river on separate cakes of ice instead of on a bridge. The thing can be done, but the mental states must be massive and plentiful. In the minds of most of us, the winds of thought blow without filling our sails while the rain-clouds sweep over us without letting fall the refreshing drops. Our mental states are but the fringe of the full fabric. In a landscape, the artist sees color as something which he might quarry out, so solid is it. In a concert, the musician hears tones, the resolution of dissonances into the harmony of remote keys, as though those tones were events in nature, a strong wind or a storm. The rest of us realize no more than mere tinge or faint echo; our soul-states are not mas- sive enough. Every writer of short stories — and almost every- body wishes he could produce stories — has the power to embrace and enjoy full states of mind which he will use later in his entertaining tale. For him common conversation has in it the ping-pong tone of real dialogue, while the doings of people easily thicken into plots. Characters grin out to him from 81 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY the real faces into which he peers, whence living peo- ple become literary characters. Solid, massive states of mind do their work in business also. In selling this article or that bill of goods, the genuine salesman obtains meaning which will build up trade for him. In managing Tom, Dick, and Harry, the good foreman, the efficient effi- ciency expert will acquire permanent mind-states out of his practical experiences. The way to do this, whether in writing, managing, selling, teaching, is to expect the actual situation to be pregnant with meaning; out of this general situa- tion will come the massive mind-state of which we are speaking, which we are trying to cultivate. Emerson said that his neighbor envied his knack in writing, but Emerson added that with his neighbor's experience he could do just as well as he had done with his own. What did he mean? He meant that his experience gave him what we are calling the mas- sive mental state, and that one mind could have it as well as another. You try to get money; try to lay aside some of these valuable states of mind. 82 XLII ENERGY OR BLUSTER? TN Gorky's plays there is a character who says that, -■- although he had always believed that he was bom for some purpose, he had never done anything but put his clothes on and take them off again. It may have been a boy's suit, a student's uniform, or the convict's stripes — it was no more than donning and dofiing, this life of his. Have you been any better off? There is nothing in the mind more prodigal than the will; it puts forth impulses but does not do deeds; it works but does not act. In this spirit, Emerson asked, "What is so rare with a man as a deed of his own?" In the midst of innumerable moves, there are few acts, and as on a checker-board we push our men around until they are jumped and thrown out. Few reach the king-row where all moves are open to the piece. It is foolish to talk about a "free will" until we have settled the question whether there is any will at all. The will truly free is creative; it does its deed, makes the man behind it produce, and adds to the values of the whole world. In the case of your will, what have you done that might be called creative, a 83 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY genuine product of the "Elan vital," or Vital Thrust of things? Our naain trouble with the will is found in our tendency to identify action with noise, motion, imme- diate results. The Germans did vastly more than the Allies, killed more men, won more battles, took more terrain. But, which won the war? The quiet man whose energy is the "energy of contemplation," the unobtrusive person whose will works like a noiseless cylinder is more active, more free, more creative than the big blusterer who uses up all his energy making his wheels go round. This party is like a car making a tremendous noise because the clutch has not yet been applied. Once the car moves the engine calms down. There is in all Americans a tendency to rush in and win the war or perfect peace, and we are far from that Chinese conservatism which tends to let things go on as they have been going on from time imme- morial. The American as wilier and worker need not emulate the Mongolian example, but he would do well to oil his activities with a little thought. You may think your will worn out when probably it is only partly used. There is for you as for every one a deed which you alone can perform. There are no substitutes for genuine action. 84 XLIII HOW WE BECOME PARTISAN WHEN we see a man wearing a monocle, we feel that he must be an affected person ; but it is not so much the glass at the eye as it is the man behind the glass. Then there is a sense in which every one of us wears a monocle ; all look at things with one eye only, with the eye of private prejudice. Nature gave man two eyes in order that he might see things fully, as they are and not in the superficial vision of one eye only. To see the difference, you have only to compare a single photograph with the double picture used with the stereoscope. The stereoscope presents but one complete picture, yet that single view is the result of double vision. You wear a monocle and take a superficial view- point when you look upon questions from one stand- point alone. Suppose it is the League of Nations; from one viewpoint, it may look like a mistake for us to be within hailing distance of poor, old Europe; but a complete view of the situation upon this planet will change your attitude. It is needless to state that many Americans wear the monocle of narrow preju- dice in the form of superficial patriotism. Then there is the monocular view of the man who 85 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY keeps considering things from the special standpoint of his party. The party-viewpoint is all right if it is combined with another angle of vision, say, that of the whole country, of all the people. The Kaiser's trouble, or one of his many infirmities, was found in the fact that he looked upon the whole world from a single point of view, — ^the German one. We had to take his monocle away from him to improve his royal vision. The various institutions which you have at your disposal — ^the State, the church, art, education — are all meant to correct and enlarge your vision. They teach you to see things in a real and solid way, not as your private prejudice might suggest. Uncle Sam has dropped his monocle and is taking a broad view of the world. How about you and your eye? Do you squint at facts, or look all around them? If you wear the monocle of party-prejudice or de- nominational pride, drop that monocle. Be your own oculist! 86 XLIV THE LONG AND SHORT OF MEMORY A FRENCH educator has criticized our youth by -^-*- saying that it is unable to remember anything in which it has no interest, as though there should be memory for memory's sake. He might have said fur- ther that mind itself is largely memory, even when one does not believe with Plato that all knowledge is so much reminiscence of prior existence. When it comes to memory, we know that we are likely to forget some things, unlikely to forget others. Our interests, likes and dislikes, desires and aversions have a way of keeping us informed upon certain points. One never forgets to eat, to smoke, to sleep; his practical interests see to it that there is all com- mission and no omission on those points. But, if memory depends upon interest, the way to enlarge the circle of things remembered is to increase the diameter of one's desires. The office-boy remem- bers batting-orders and batting-averages. The thea- tre-goer recalls the names of actors and actresses, of plays and plots. The scholar remembers where to find the book, the dog knows where the bone was buried. The more interests you have, the more mem- ory, the more mind. 87 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY To commit you must omit to memory; that is, you hold one thing by loosing another, so that to remem- ber is to forget. Out of a dozen impressions taken in by the mind there is only one worth remembering, but to keep that one you must discard the others. We have no memory for weather, the hot or cold spell, the rain or the drought; you recall what happened last Thursday but you forget the temperature. Past weather has no importance for us, so we let it slip out of the mind in a way which we do not do when it is a question of past performances. You have a certain way of remembering; when you recall a tele- phone number, do you seem to see it or hear it? If you visualize, then try to get a picture of the thing you wish to retain. If your memory be auditory, try to keep an echo of it in your brain. But, to remem- ber in the future, pay attention in the present, since memory is little more of a record than that which passed through the mind. The facts that were nailed down in passing will not blow away in future winds, but will stay where they were put. 88 XLV THE PIN CUSHION BRAIN PIN-CUSHIONS are not as fashionable as they used to be, but one does not fail to see the stuffed pillow with its array of pin-heads. The pin-cushion has plenty of pins pushed into and drawn out of it, but it is difficult to see just where the cushion is advan- taged by the pin-pushing process. There are human pin-cushions in the world, plenty of them. They are like the paying tellers in banks; thousands of dollars pass through their hands, but how much of the sum can they call their own? You and I may be one of these pin-cushions or paying tellers. Pins and dollars go into and out of us, but what do we get out of the affair? People are pin-cushions when they are simply re- ceptive. There are ideas enough in the world, more than man can use for years to come. The stock of ideas in the world is comparable to the timber in our forests, except that men are more likely to fell and trim trees than they are to haul the timber of ideas out of the forest of the mind. The receptive pin-cushion has ideas pushed into and drawn out of it, but the net result is no more than the pin-hole. Of the ideas which guide the nation 89 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY and the race, how many have you originated, how many have you made your own? Have you been anything more than the silent, receptive pin-cushion? The pin-cushion brain is a failure because it does not resist the pin-point, because it fails to respond to the prick of the pin. If it were the custom to stick the pins into our several skins, we should not be so apathetic about the pin-pushing process. But to have ideas jammed into your receptive brain is just as un- fair and cruel as it would be were the real pins thrust into your real skin. Your skin would be wise enough to resist. Those who have neither the will nor the power to resist life, as life is ever thrust upon them, are the pin- cushions of the human race. Pin-pushers are looking for pin-cushions; do not let them find you. 90 XLVI PSYCHOLOGICAL SUBSTITUTES FOR ALCOHOL T^HE dethroning of King Alcohol has created the J- fear that the heir apparent or Crown Prince of the realm might appear in the form of the Drug; for it seems as though mankind were bent upon getting out of life more than there is in the ordinary run of eating, sleeping, working. What shall be the proper substitute for alcohol, or for those sensations which the ancient King was wont to call up in the hearts of his subjects? It used to be a question whether the effect of alco- hol was that of arousing or subduing, whether the drink was a stimulant or narcotic, when as a matter of fact liquor had the power to arouse certain tendencies and ideas by quieting those which were in opposition to them. When it stilled certain portions of the brain, it put out of operation those functions which usually acted as breaks or dampers, so that to still the better nature was to arouse the more vivid and ele- mental forms of human consciousness. But all of this is now a matter of history, and we are wiser if we cast about for something psychic to take the place of the artificial sensations which used to hover about the rim of the wine-cup. Centuries 91 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY ago, the Apostle, who once recommended wine to a younger colleague, gave sound advice when he said, "Be not drunk with wine wherein is excess, but be filled with the spirit," It seems, then, that there are mental experiences which may have the exhilarating effect of wine. Is not this the case with music? In the harmonies of Wagner and Verdi, in the music of Mendelssohn and Chopin, to say nothing of the stimulations of synco- pated music today, there are intoxicating possibilities whose sources we have still to tap. But if the major effect of alcohol was to produce a mental condition at once arousing and quieting, it seems as though, by a process of self-suggestion, man might in himself produce the exciting and tranquil- izing. After Emerson had attributed great poetic possibilities to wine, he asserted that the sense of truth was after all the great stimulant. In the sense of True, Good and Beautiful there is a tranquilizing stimulation which can vie with the sweet madness of wine. An inventor brooding over his task, a poet in his study, a chess-player at the board are all of them examples of men intoxicated with their ideas. Those who miss the effects of wine may find some substitute in increased activity of the brain. 92 XLVII EMOTIONAL REACTION UPON LIFE nPHE poet is defined as the man who "surveys the -*- spectacle of life with appropriate emotions." The psychologist thinks of this more broadly, more democratically as the native reactions of the brain to stimuli. As in the physical world so in the psychi- cal order, action is equal to reaction; hence the ability to make one's emotions react, respond to the given situation is a thing important. It was by proper reaction upon the bloody spectacle of war that the war was won, for out of the Hun breast there sprang no such emotional thrills as were common on the near side of the deep trench. Man as mankind has made his general response to the re- actions of the world; we call them industry, enlight- enment, civilization, culture. By means of such emo- tional responses, and not by sheer strength, has man become man. The temperate zone of emotional reaction is the most fruitful for appropriate emotions. The quick responses of the young child and the nervous woman, the sluggish reactions of the hardened, blase party are extremes desirably avoided. In the case of most of us, it is safe to assume that we are sufficiently 93 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY realistic so that it is romantic response which is more desirable. The more obvious elements of emotion are those of pleasure and pain, what we like or dislike. The deeper factors in emotion are those which either ex- cite or subdue us, as anger here, sorrow there. The desire for the emotional reactions of an exciting char- acter drives us into the movies, to the ball-game, into the theatre; here we find room for ideal excitement out of which in the past came the fine arts. But there are tranquilizing emotions and calm re- actions, and as nature may express her forces in either earthquakes or the growth of tender plants, so the mind may react violently or by means of subdued emotion. The progress of tranquility may be seen in large cities where noise and conflict make people devotees of New Thought, Yoga, and all sorts of psychic movements with their "power through re- pose." As Americans, we try to throw off national nervousness by means of Asiatic mysticism. The motive in this desire for tranquility is sound and sane, for our past reaction have made more lu- natics than poets; the only question is whether the means employed is at all authentic. Apart from any fashionable mysticism, you may make your tranquil response to the hurly burly of times quite out of joint. 94 XLVIII PRACTICAL HYPNOTISM "TJYPNOTISM" is supposed to be a work to con- ■'-■*- jure with, when in truth it is one of the com- monest traits of the mind. In addition to that subtle hypnotism which requires a special demonstration, there is a practical form of the art felt by all but realized by few. In its last analysis, hypnotism is an influence, a sort of mental malady or good health which is "catching." For this reason, men used to speak of a contagious disease as an "influenza" ; that is, it was an influence which one person passed over to another. How many hypnotists there are in the form of mental typhoid- carriers, those who in their walking typhoid of mind aff'ect those who come in contact with them. The kind of influenza, typhoid germ, or hypnosis which such a person carries about with him is often that of discontent whence arise revolutions, strikes, and a general feeling of dissatisfaction with all given conditions. During the war such hypnotism showed itself in the form of pacifism in which the pacifist first hypnotized himself and then proceeded to infect others. After the war, the prevailing form of hyp- notic influenza has become that of Bolshevism. 95 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY The mental typhoid<;arrier comes to the point where he begins to enjoy his malady, as a patient is so bent upon disease that he refuses to consult a doctor. If he could keep his ills to himself, it would not be so bad, but it is peculiar to the person whose moods have hypnotized him that he must act hypnotically upon all who come into contact with him. Every now and then a "Typhoid Mary" of the mind appears in the form of a person who indulges in gossip and gloom, but it is in the present day that these germ-carriers of discontent have appeared in droves. To guard against such influenza, one must first of all be aware of the practical hypnotism re- ferred to, and must appreciate the fact that he is not wholly immune to mental disease by contact with the hypnotic patient. On the other hand, there is good hypnotism as there is bad, and those who live socially are subject to the unconscious influences which ever are brought to bear upon them. One may, for example, "work himself up to a pitch" of patriotism or some other form of healthy enthusiasm just as one may convey such good germs to his neighbor. Hypnotism is here to stay; the thing to do is to use it normally. 96 XLIX HOW SENSATIONS AFFECT FEELINGS TN common speech, the term "sensation" is supposed -'- to cover a multitude of inner experiences, but usually those of an emotional character. In psy- chological speech, "sensation" stands for a simple matter — the immediate effect of a physical stimulus upon some organ of sense. Light turns to color, sound to tone, chemical change to sweet or sour. At the same time, these simple sensations can produce feelings. Run through the various departments of sensation, and ask yourself whether the simpler sensations pro- duce emotional responses. Does a tone affect you more than a color? Can you remain neutral to sweet and sour as you do to yellow and blue? Why should some sensations come in with emotional bag- gage, leaving others to enter the mind free? In the animal world, the effect of sensations is strikingly marked. What is there in the life of the bull or what has been his history that his anger should be aroused by the simple sensation of red, especially as the bull is not camiverous? Why does the little girl fear to wear a red dress in the presence of a turkey? 97 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Other animals respond to other sensations; thus the dog howls at music, the cat purrs with pleasure when her neck feels tactual sensations. Just why different species respond to different sensations is a question which the psychologist must pass over to the natural- ist. Perhaps Mr. Burroughs can give us the answer. With our human consciousness, there are color sen- sations which have a jarring effect, just as there are noises, like the scratching upon glass, which grate upon the nerves. Odors may nauseate us, flavors produce extreme pleasure or aversion. The emotional response to sensation is the secret of art-appreciation, but it is a question just how far these sensations shall go. It is only by straining that one can endure cubism or jazz music, just as it was by such a process of endurance that we learned to have a kind of liking for impressionism and "rag-time." It is obvious that our emotions, ancestral though they be, are not fully developed, so that we have still to learn how we should feel in the presence of new forms of sensation. As for emotional aversion to certain sensations, these can be controlled. With the lower animal, this may be impossible, but the adaptability of man makes him equal to all sensational changes. 98 THE CONTROL OF EMOTION EMOTION is more like a serpent which is to be charmed than a horse which is to be held in by the bit. Unfortmiately most of us tend to treat our emotions as forces to be controlled rather than as influence to be guided ; they seem to be children which need discipline, when in truth they are mature forces which stand in need of instruction. The fears and angers, joys and sorrows, desires and aversions, seekings and shunnings have their place in the brain; and they are there to stay. It is only in an artificial system like Buddhism or some other form of asceticism that these emotions are looked upon as plants to be uprooted. But these age- old trees are not so easily torn from the sub-soil of human nature. The proper treatment of emotion comes more from the intellect than the will; for the emotion is to be guided into its proper channel, not run aground on the bank of the conscious stream. This intellectual guidance can come about by interpretation, although every one wears the face of the Sphinx, whose smiles and frowns are not easily understood. In a case of extreme joy wherein your happiness 99 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY may prove embarrassing to you, the emotional control desired can come about by finding the meaning of the exultation. When once you realize that your little satisfaction due to the day's success or fortune's smile is indeed a small matter, you are not so likely to feel elated or to boast. When one becomes a prey to that nameless sorrow which stalks about in the dark, and when like the sen- timental poet he says, "I know not why it is that I am so sad," he would best seek the source of the sorrow which, as a feeling, cannot bear much analysis. With all the obvious reality of pain, most of the sor- row which we have is due to the fact that we have failed to get at the meaning of the sorrow. Once comprehended, the clouds of sorrow will vanish in the sunlight of clear thought. Fear is one of the oldest of emotions, one which is not easily dispelled; and yet of what are we afraid? The fear felt when one is alone, or in the darkness is a nameless fear; if we are alone, we are quite sure to be undisturbed; if in darkness, we shall not be seen. The interpretation of the fear conquers the fear. Interpreted emotions are the very light of life, the source of true art, the essence of pure humanity. 100 LI THE DESIRES OF LIFE EVERYBODY believes that his own desires are authoritative for him, but it is doubtful whether the average person knows what he wants. For this reason, instruction in desire becomes one of the im- portant matters in education; we must learn what we think, and be taught what we desire. The commonest misunderstanding in connection with desire is found in the illusion that the heart takes to pleasure as the proverbial duck to water; although it is an open question in psychology whether man does desire pleasure. Assume that he does thus prefer the pleasant, shall we deny that man may have desire for what is indifferent or even for the painful? That which makes desire a problem for both prac- tical man and theoretical psychologist is the element of will which enters into all desiring. If it were simply passive feeling, man would respond to pleas- ure as magnet to the north pole ; but there is na such rule of attraction with the human heart. The indifferent object, that which neither pains nor pleases, may easily become an object of desire, if only man will set his mind upon it. He who climbs a mountain for the sake of having found its peak, he 101 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY who reads a book for the purpose of binding it in the covers of his own brain may confess that he was neither pleased nor displeased, but still he satisfied his desire by the climbing, by the reading. In exceptional cases, one may desire pain, since such strenuous means of life show him life's meaning. The real traveller does not object to the storm or the genuine soldier feel averse to battle, since storm and battle with their pains give a realization of things which could come about in no other way. Since the human heart in its strength may desire pleasure, pain, or that which is neutral emotionally, the thing for the practical psychologist to do is to find out just what is desirable. Just as we must learn what the heart within us really desires, so must we become acquainted with what the brain deems desir- able in itself. This notion of innate desirability comes through judgment, whence we learn that, desired or not, some things are in themselves desirable. The boy does not desire knowledge, the man culture, or the practical person taste, but just these ideal benefits are the desir- able things of life. If you tried to educate your brain, give your heart a course of study in desirables! 102 LII THE VALUE OF PAIN PLEASURE and pain are commonly regarded as -■- things to be sought and shunned respectively, when as a matter of fact one is just as important as the other. Indeed, one might even say that pain is of greater worth than pleasure. In the general rela- tions of things, or the diplomatic affairs between mind and body, pleasure has the office of showing what is beneficial, pain points out what is harmful. What you like is good for you, what you dislike is bad; or what pleases mouth and tongue is good for stomach and lungs. Without attempting to indicaite exceptions to this emotional rule, one can begin to see where his pains are of singular service to him. The tooth-ache comes into being for the purpose of warning the man that there is something wrong with the dental member. The headache suggests that the rules of eyes or stom- ach are being violated. The general sense of unrest in life tries to show the individual that he has not yet come to an understanding with the world. As storm-signals, pains have a place which can never be usurped; as semaphores, they have a func- tion with which the railways of life cannot dispense. 103 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Those who have gone deeply into the affairs of man have been more likely to distrust perfect happiness than to be doubtful about perfect misery. "Perhaps perfect happiness is a monster which the human race should not tolerate," said Balzac. One of pain's by-products is the sense of actuality which tends to follow in the wake of all sorrow. Many of us who got our war from the newspapers have little real comprehension of its meaning, but those who suffered peril and privation, disease and wounds are the ones who know just how the short and ugly word "war" is spelled. Among the soldiers, those who went to camp only envy the boys who were overseas, while in some cases those who went through the fight untouched envy those who got a "nick" or two. The painful "nicks" of reality are tolerable if not desirable, not because they are painful, but because by no other means could the utter realness of life be brought to one's notice. The crags and edges of the real world are things which cannot be touched with gloved hands, but must be met in the roughness of their real nature. The rose without the thorn is arti- ficial, just as the cup without its bitter taste is insipid. Most of the work which genius has produced has been wrought out in pain, while the most typical genius in the world, Goethe, said, "Some god gave me power to tell how I suffer." 104 LIII CROSSED EYES OF THE MIND T^HE reason why some people cannot see farther J- than the end of their nose is because they do not look. Their eyes are crossed. The eyes have angles of convergence which allow them to take in a far scene as well as one near by. The eyes have the power of accommodation. But the cross-eyed man cannot accommodate himself to distance. The nose-looker of the human race is the man who sees his own point of view, but no other. He has opinions but not views, prejudices but not philosophy, an impression but no ideas. His mental eyes do not look beyond the mental nose with its limited range. The man with the crossed eyes is the fanatic. The good point about fanaticism is its intensity. If you look at everything, you will see nothing. If your eyes are on the horizon of ideals you will over- look the neighborhood of needs. But the reverse is no less true. If you keep your eyes on the nose of your private opinions, you will miss the vision of possibility and progress; you will operate in a small sphere. You will be a mere coasting vessel which dares not get beyond the sight of land. The nose-looker is always a dangerous person, for 105 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY he will not accommodate his vision to enlarging and changing circumstances. He has always thought cer- tain ideas just as his father did before him, has al- ways been a member of this particular church or party, as was the case with his ancestors. His gaze has accommodated itself to nothing but his own nose, and he is sure to run into people on the highway. National nose-looking has been one of our Ameri- can ills. Worse than that, it has been a local view of all political questions, which we viewed as from the North, the South, or the West. Even the national view as such became too narrow and nose-like, so that of late we have had to open the eyes to the distant scene across the sea. But Uncle Sam has good eye- sight, and he is learning to view his problems in an Americo-European way. Your need is probably that of accommodation. Your eyes may be the dreamy kind that scan the hori- zon, but it is more likely that they are of the nose- kind, which see only what is right before them. You must be your own oculist and must readjust your own views. The fact that we Americans could ad- just ourselves to conscription and the income-tax show that we have breadth and depth of mental vision. We have looked at our private nose long enough. 106 LIV RAISING ONE'S SELF BY ONE'S BOOT STRAPS ^ I TIE new theory of gravitation suggested by Ein- -'- stein has not been worked out yet, but among the implications of the new view there may come the realization of an old impossibility — raising one's self by one's boot-straps. In a certain sense, men have always done just this ; it is the act of self -education. Whereas education is by nature a personal process in connection with which no teacher can "learn" the pupil any one of the three "R's," it has been the fate of education to go on publicly in the school. The State does for the child what the child might well do for itself; nevertheless, true education is no such so- cial elevator; it is a process of self -elevation by the application of private forces. In getting at the thing called education, one must try to break away from the mathematical standards which the State has found it necessary to employ. The pupil is graded, whence he receives a percentage of merit and mentality. Out in the larger school of the world, men are classified according to the amount of knowledge which they possess, not the kind of in- telligence which they enjoy. As a result, most of us know too much for our brain's good; we possess more than we can invest. 107 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY One can raise hig head by lifting upon his mental boot-straps because knowledge is really a matter of kind and quality. You may not know as much as your neighbor or your rival, but you may have a different kind of knowledge. The man who as a lad could barely master fractions may be the manager of many vulgar fractions of men under him. The boy who succumbed before geography may be successful as a traveling man at home, abroad. The child who forgot lessons may cultivate a fine memory for names and faces. He who was as dull as Walter Scott may develop somewhat the same kind of imagination. It is quality in self -education rather than quantity in public instruction that enables one to defy peda- gogical gravitation, and raise himself by his own powers. We are getting away from the idea that mere eating gives flesh and muscle, or that calories are found in food alone. Just as we emphasize as- similation with the body, so we may stress the idea of absorption by the brain. Calories and curriculums are effective only as they are properly received. Self-elevation is dependent upon attention, the focus of the mind upon things which either are of interest or may be made interesting by virtue of the attention paid them. Added to attention is the free imitation which the versatile mind employs to place himself beside the more eminent man. 108 LV EMOTION AND ITS EFFERVESCENCE ONE hears a great deal about the control of emo- tion, and it seems as though most people who give advice were bent upon damping the fires of the heart. Just as much good psychology may consist in the encouraging of emotion and emotional response, so that the smoking flax may not be quenched. Emotion as a human experience is an instinctive affair which we share with the animals from whom, it seems, we have inherited many forms of emotional expression, as in the case of scowl and frown. But the appropriate, adequate expression of emotion is a matter which is left to us, whence it becomes impor- tant to look into the psychology of emotional expres- sion. Here and there one meets a person who fairly lives in his or her emotions, but more often does one en- counter the stolid, practical individual whose emo- tions are absorbed in duties, affairs, immediate inter- ests. For this reason, the psychologist has the right to recommend emotional expression. In order to see and feel how far short of emotional expression you have fallen, watch a dog in fear or rage, mark the effervescent joy and sorrow of a child, 109 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY observe the acquired forms of emotional expression as these appear upon the features and in the form of the gifted actor. Yours is the emotional life of the animal, the child, the actor, but you have seen fit to dampen the fires which in these others flame forth with naturalness, perhaps with beauty. Just as a graceful person knows how to respond to a toast at a banquet, so one who has not lost the graces of life will seek to ac- quire the lost art of emotional expression. Expression alone without the emotion will produce affectation, but that's a risk the true human being will run. The emotions which you experience daily are sufficient in number and force to equip a whole stage of players, to fill out a whole volume of poems. The thing to do is to respond to these springs within the mind. The best response to an emotion is that in which the meaning of the pleasure or pain is shown forth in your gesture, tone, or attitude. It is in such things, such accompaniments of word and act that emotion shows its meaning, its age-old purpose. 110 LVI THE VARIABILITY OF PLEASURE THE times and seasons of human enjoyment are such that what pleases us when we are young will not afford enjoyment when we are grown older. The outer world remains the same and there is little change in the inner man ; but the relationship between yourself and your world cannot be counted upon to remain the same. What's your pleasure? What was it once, what is it now, what should it be in the coming years? When one recalls the fact that, as a boy, he was absorbed in tops and marbles, sports and books of adventure, he may wonder why it is that such diver- sions have lost their charm for him. Have there drawn nigh those evil days when the man says, "I have no pleasure in them"? The reason why one thing pleases now and not at another time is because pleasure and pain keep step with life, so that what should give pleasure at a cer- tain period does so, while what is destined to further our future activities will not please us until the ac- tivity has ripened. What's your present pleasure? Once upon a time, you took pleasure in some boy- ish victory in a game, or in some trick that you 111 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY played upon your neighbor. Now you wonder how it was that such a pastime had any pleasurable mean- ing for you. At that time, as a boy, you noticed how men were as much pleased by work as you were by play, and you doubted whether you would ever take an interest in the larger, harder game. What was your pleasure then; what is it now? Young people may be let alone in the choice of pleasures; at any rate they will have enough interests to absorb all their powers of attention. It is for the mature person to realize that pleasures vary with age, and that the increase of years may mark the decreases of interests. To meet the decline of interest, some take up golf; indeed, that old-age game seems to be the one thing which preserves for man the pleasure of the one-time boy. One of the main things of mature life is to nurse interests in order that one may date ahead the evil day when he will confess that he has no pleasure in things. Some may do it this way, others that; but there is one pleasure which can span the whole range of human life ; it shows in the child, and continues to shine forth with the man. It is the pleasure of knowledge! 112 LVII BEING AT ONE'S PRIME TT is not for mathematics to determine just when -■- man in the midst of his three-score-and-ten reaches what we call his "prime." Still less has the physiol- ogist the right to say that at a certain age, say forty, the individual begins to become an undesirable citi- zen. All depends upon the individual, upon the psy- chology of that person. Determinations of the magic prime are usually made in the light of the individual's body through which science seeks to pass some sort of X-ray whence the capabilities of the man may be measured. Some- where between twenty and fifty, or soon after the five and thirty which one must possess before he can be- come candidate for the presidency; such appears to be the prime of life. But consider just what the ages of man present to him as psychological issues. In youth there is the pride of knowledge and the desire for praise, whence medals and keys with which the youthful knower would decorate his proud person. With maturity it is the sense of power along with the desire for profit which makes middle life what it is, often a prosaic period of human existence. With age there arises a 113 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY sense of dignity coupled with a desire for peace, unless one be like the Tiger of France. Time runs on in the same way for all, since time is neutral; but measured by psychological time there comes the idea of novelty. Life seems slow and in- teresting to the young person, because life offers new dawns each day, while to the experienced person the lack of novelty makes the hours passed by unnoticed, almost empty. The secret of the life-prime appears to repose in the idea of interest, that which youth has in excess, that which age lacks. It is by our interests rather than by our arteries that we preserve youth; for the fountain sought by Ponce de Leon is in the brain. Just as long as the individual pays attention and suffers him- self to become absorbed in the objects of his experi- ence just so long does he keep his prime. Thus a well preserved person may be old because he lacks desires, while an elderly man may be young refreshed as he is by new interests and desires. Just what interests will stand the storm and stress of experience is not so easily determined, yet it is safe to assume with the Greeks of old that it is the intellectual desire with which youth begins which fur- ther will accompany the veteran and serve him as a staff. Congress should appoint a commission to de- termine the leading life-interest. Until they do this, we will assume that the intellect is man's most faith- ful friend. 114 LVIII THE PSYCHOLOGY OF PERSONALITY TTUMAN beings have not waited for psychology to -■-J- demonstrate the existence of the soul, but have gone on to give a practical proof of it in the kinds of lives they lead. In the natural striving after indi- viduality, which is as normal as the pursuit of social life, men are often tempted to adopt standardization, or a life according to a rule for all. To follow this line of lesser resistance and let the social order dictate personality is like having the State act as a shot-tower whence, as through a colander, human beings descend to the same level and assume the same form, the rounded form of the uniform shot. All of us are molten, so that it is not difficult to reduce us to a single form, a common size. Instead of submitting to the influence which would make men as homogeneous as so many shot, it is bet- ter to observe how nature works when she lets snow- flakes fall from the sky. To all appearances, these flakes are alike in form, size, color; under the micro- scope, however, a thousand varieties and more may be detected. Shall we let Nature make us varied in the midst of our general likeness, or shall we adopt some social scheme which shall make all alike in dress, habits, functions, pay and the like? 115 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Every little community is a kind of colander which attempts to reduce all personalities to a common form. Every communistic scheme is such a colander, and whatever may be said economically in favor of com- munism, there stands out against it the psychological argument to the effect that men are different, feel different, and act differently. The rounding-out influence of a book which one reads or of a speech to which one listens may be nor- mal and sane up to a certain point, but there is in both nature and mind a tendency to make things and per- sons varied, so that as no two leaves on a tree are the same, so no two individuals should strive after com- plete similarity. The symmetrical person is a nuisance; far more comfortable is it to mingle with people who are dis- tinct even to the extreme of eccentricity. Much as we complain of our present social system, we dread all forms of Utopia where all live one life. To be formed like a shot is to be dead, and rather than roll along in grooves, one would better be self-propelled even if his gait be unsteady. 116 LIX SYNTHETIC CONSCIOUSNESS WHY not synthetic consciousness when there are so many other kinds of combinations? During the War, the Germans manufactured synthetic com- binations of various kinds, while their way of de- fending the righteousness of their own cause was the most synthetic of all. At the same time, there are forms of consciousness, synthesis or combination which are natural and wholesome. Much of psychology is a matter of analysis in con- nection with which our everyday experiences are re- duced to atomic, elementary forms to which marvel- lous names are attached. Most if not all of our life as lived is a smooth synthesis of elements which are assembled from the four quarters of the mental earth, which are blown in upon us from the winds of our mental heavens. Because of its rare combinations, life is interesting, because of its sharp analysis, psy- chology may be difficult and dull. The most ordinary of mental states is a synthesis, as when in the perception of an apple the mind fuses the impressions of red, round, sweet, smooth. In cookery which involves a little of this and a little of that, there is an artificial synthesis which will pro- 117 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY duce the savory morsel upon the plate. In fire- works, there is the careful synthesis of this and that kind and color of powder, which will result in the fiery embroidery which the beholder sees in the sky. In the same manner, such industrial arts as millinery and window-dressing, decorating and landscape- gardening are similar examples of the way in which separate sensations are combined for the sake of producing a pleasing totality. Just as there are these genuine syntheses, so there may be as many false combinations of sensations, which will appeal only to those whose taste is morbid or fantastic. In certain forms of suburban architec- ture, in cubist painting, in the styles of certain mo- distes, there are these spurious syntheses, which as- semble impressions meant to be kept apart. Your private consciousness is a synthetic product in which are assembled impressions from this or that comer of your experience, the business man fuses ideas and acts, the politician combines votes and mo- tives, the scientist makes up a pure fusion of ideas and ideas. Consciousness responds to the fusion, but it remains for judgment to determine whether the synthesis is good and just. Among the varied forms of advice given, psychol- ogy might elaborate this one — beware of the fusions which your consciousness keeps elaborating within your brain. 118 LX INSTINCT AND INTELLECT T^HE subject of instinct like that of intuition is one -*- which deserves and demands a certain kind of psy- chological revision. When psychology is confronted by the common notion of instinct, psychology must make certain reservations. The whole matter con- cerns the relation of instinct to intellect. According to the traditional notion, intellect begins where instinct leaves off, while the same kind of rea- soning has the habit of relegating instinct to animals, intellect to men. In face of this popular view, we have the extremely critical ideas of advanced psy- chologists. James insisted that man has all the in- stincts of the animal and then more of his own. Ac- cording to Wundt, "animals never reason, men sel- dom." The way out of this tangle may come about when we give up placing instinct and intellect on a straight line with mind at the top and body below. We succeed better with our interpretation of man and dog when we place instinct and intellect side by side; for their behaviour is often parallel rather than other- wise. The animal with its instincts has a certain amount 119 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY of consciousness as this appears in his emotional ex- pression of fear, anger, and the like. At the same time, the intelligence of the instinctive animal shows in the way that it pays attention to certain things while it neglects others. In such emotion and attention, there is sufficient mentality to show that animal in- stinct can be animal intellect, or instinctive conscious- ness. In the more important case of man, it is well to observe, especially when one is considering a Bol- shevist, a profiteer, a striker, how instinct runs side by side with intellect, which it serves as a sort of third rail. If men seldom reason, it is not because they lack brains, but for the reason that instinct can take the place of promise and conclusion. If all this be the biological way of putting an old problem, there is still a political argument which should be heard. According to a political psychol- ogy, it is unfortunate that men should use intellect so little, instinct so much. The State of the past has been an instinctive State, wherein food and fighting were the great issues, wherein spear and pruning hook, sword and plowshare were used without much thought as to their meaning. The new State which is slowly coming in will be less instinctive, more intelligent. It may not change man utterly, but it may persuade him to shift from instinct to intellect. 120 LXI THE PSYCHOLOGICAL BLESSINGS OF MONOTONY VARIETY may be the spice but monotony is the meat of life. What you really want is what men have wanted in the past; and if there be nothing new under the sun, it is because novelty is not desired. We bless the man who invented the old things — sleep, work, love, beauty; we are not so likely to praise the inventor of modem improvements. Life as books reflect it is the same old story told and retold, revised and revamped but little. Our artistic tastes can tolerate nothing but the plays and tales which deal with love and hate, fear and anger. We would not think of living in old houses, but we are at home in such theatres as the ancients knew and enjoyed. The scenery and language may be differ- ent, but the plot is the same old story. The reason why we are so fond of gazing into the fire is explained plausibly on the grounds that our remote ancestors were fire-worshippers, and they made flame-gazers of all their descendants. Variety may add fuel to these flames of life, but it is into the same old embers of human experience that we gaze. All the great deeds have been done so thoroughly that modem heroes can do no more than imitate the 121 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Achilles of antiquity. All genuine emotions have been felt to the full, hence the modem heart can do more than murmur and echo the passions of the past. All the essential thoughts of the brain were unrav- elled by antiquity, so that art, religion, law, love are little more than reminiscences. The psychologically-minded person, or he who is aware of his own nature as human, will be wise to come to an understanding with the past and make friends with monotony. Those whose minds are less real and authentic will wear themselves out trying to find something new in life which knows neither youth nor age. Nevertheless, monotony is not opposed to variety any more than a negative pole is prohibitive of a positive one. Just as Eros was the oldest and young- est of the gods, and the child of both poverty and wealth, so human desire may be youthful in its age, rich in its apparent poverty. It is those who have mastered their studies, solved their problems, had their experiences who are in the best position to enjoy them. The greatest joy of life is sure to involve something so ancestral as to appear monotonous; its basis is that of useful habit. Because of monotony, the values of life keep at par, and the things most desired are like jewels which never become second-hand goods. 122 LXII THE PSYCHOLOGY OF SUBSTITUTES THE progress of man away from nature and toward civilization involves him in devices and substi- tutes. Our age is pre-eminently the age of substi- tutes for coffee, alcohol, meat, war and the like. But in the case of individuals the substitution of Peter for Paul is not always effective. In the world of persons whose lives are private and temperamental, the substitution of one for another is a poor rule which does not work even one way. Ro- meo must have Juliet, Hero Leander, Anthony Cleo- patra, Jack Jill. It is still to be explained how one person can be everything to another and all others nothing. It is undeniable that in the world of affairs one may take another's place. On the eve of the Battle of Gettysburg it was a question whether the Union forces should be led by Meade or Hooker. In the European War it was first Von Kluck, then Von Hin- denburg. The English turned from French to Haig, the French from Joffre to Foch. Action shows little preference, plays few favorites, so that when a man dies another can take his place. "The king is dead, long live the king" — such is the judgment of practical life. 123 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY With love and genius, however, there is no such substitution. Suppose Shakespeare die in the midst of writing Hamlet; who will finish the play? Isaac Newton fails to complete his study of gravitation; who will take up the work where he left off? Years, centuries later, when another Newton or an Einstein appears, the work may be done, but there is no direct substitute for the man who is doing creative work. We have vice-presidents but not vice-poets, "pinch- hitters" but not pinch-thinkers, under-studies in play- ing the part but not in writing it. If the great artist grows weary, the work of art must wait, or as Dante said, "If I go who stays, if I stay who goes?" The genius is unique, solitary; in his place we can accept no substitutes. Society has usually made the error of thinking that one man could take the place of another; hence so- ciety has killed prophets, poets, philosophers. Soci- ety's means of education is calculated upon the basis that one man can take another's place in the world. Society wants people to be the same, when in truth people are different. If you are doing genuine work, no one can substi- tute for you, nor can you substitute for another. It is a good principle to accept no substitutes for per- sons; such synthetic products can never prove of worth or effectiveness. 124 LXIII CONSCIOUS SELF-DECEPTION "EVERYBODY is on guard lest he be deceived by -'—' others, but who takes care not to be deceived by himself? Thou shalt not bear false witness against either thy neighbor, or thyself. Nevertheless, self- deception will arise, and we are so constituted that we may be conscious of the trick that we are playing on our own brains. Psychology has used the idea of self-trickery to explain the artless play of the child, which so imag- ines that a chair is a horse or a bed a boat that, for the time, the object does take on the characteristics of the thing whose existence is pretended. Such playful self-deception is natural and harmless. Even with grown-ups, there may be a similar sort of personal trickery which should not be condemned. But self- deception may easily prove a hindrance to success, especially when the sick man imagines that he is well; when the poor man thinks that in his poverty he is as well off as the rich; when the brain makes one feel that he is well educated; when the heart persuades man that he is happy. Here are jimctures where hu- man discontent may well arise. Just as there is personal seK-deception, so a nation 125 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY may consciously magnify its importance and its des- tiny, uiitil it seeks a place in the sun and over all the earth. The case of Germany, with its exaggerated nationalism, its political giantism is right to the point. A race of people given to sentiment and speculation went to work to deceive themselves into thinking that theirs was an over-exceptional nation. The result is now fully appreciated. Extreme cases of self-deception where the patient actually perceives what does not exist in time or place are subjects for the clinic, for the alienist. It is the mild instance of conscious self-deception which should engage the attention of every one who strives to live a normal authentic life. In dealing with your pet delusions, realize first of all that many of them may be of value to you; since ambition is little more than a healthy form of self- persuasion as to the individual's possible greatness. Indeed it might be said that many people do not allow consciousness to impress sane self-deceptions upon the mind. On the other hand, one must be on his guard against the Cinderella within the brain, for pump- kins are not chariots, or mice, horses. You yourself must decide how much self-deception you can stand. 126 LXIV FRETTING IT might seem strange were psychology to approve of "fretting," since most of the "psychic" move- ments of the day aim to relieve the individual of his irritations. But there is fretting and fretting. To fret is to wear away after the manner of the stone- cutter who frets the column or the vault. The result of such fretting is beautiful. Great men have always been distinguished by their special ability to fret. Columbus fretted his way from the Old World to the New; Leonardo da Vinci fretted until his genius had painted the Last Supper; Shakespeare's immortal fretting appears in Hamlet. It was by fretting, or "nibbling," that France wore out the German lines and the German Empire. Great human movements have always originated in fretting, whence it was the systematic worrying of the Puritans in England which brought about the civiliza- tion of New England. The Colonists fretted until they had worn their way to freedom. In the form of Local Option, Prohibition fretted its way into the life of the nation. But the mere chafing at circumstances as a river nibbles at its shores is hardly the same as the psycho- 127 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY logical fretting here recommended. The kind of fretting which counts is that systematic form of irri- tation which is felt by the object, not the subject. The sculptor with his chisel indulges in a fretting process, but the effect of this is felt by the stone, not his hand. Without friction no work could be done, for all would be a matter of sliding and skidding. Without mental friction there could be no work done by the human will. The trouble with the "fretter" lies in the fact that his irritation works inwardly upon him- self, when it is the business of fretting to act as a sand-blast which irritates the stone in perfect condi- tion. The process of fretting is really an artistic one. We are in the habit of considering it our calling to assemble masses of matter, of money, of power. Just as much is the process of life a beautifying one, that which produces the ornamentation of a building. For the purpose of making the world beautiful, noth- ing is more necessary than the systematic course of fretting. National fretting with its power to beautify the Republic is one of the prime needs of the day. Thus far, our American life has been an affair of quantity, of how much? By national fretting, we may make national existence a matter of quality, of how fine? 128 LXV NUMBER FORMS IT was due to the penetration and courage of Francis Galton that psychology came into possession of those peculiar bits of imagery known as number forms and other varieties of mental embroidery. The difficult thing about tlie discussion of the number- form lies in the fact that if a mind does not possess any such picturesque arithmetic, he does not know what you mean. It is simply this — ^that certain minds have a way of representing the numbers from one to one hundred at least, picturing them in simple forms which are likely to vary from obtuse angles to smooth curves. The man with tlie number-form may count orally, but the digits run along a certain line and then turn at curve or angle, and tliat most likely at the "teens." At the shift from the twenties to the thirties to the forties, and so on to tlie hundred, the form turns about a curve or around a comer, so that he who counts or calculates does so by means of mental sketches. To have the number-form or not, that is the ques- tion. Do you see the imaginary place of a number like forty-three? In subtracting six from fourteen, does your mind run back around the angle of the 129 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY teens to the smaller numbers? In adding five to eighty-seven, do you count on your fingers, or do you watch the number run up to ninety and then proceed to the place of ninety-two? Those who rejoice in number-forms, are likely to possess similar sketches for the days of the week, so that the passage from a Thursday to the next Monday is made by running over the little hillock of Sunday and then down to Monday, instead of having the days of the week squared up as on a calendar. Then there are month-forms whereby one looks ahead from the end of December to the middle of April, not by count- ing up the intervening weeks, but by watching the ideal processions of these time-periods. Some who possess and use these forms for figures, days and months may not be conscious of their men- tal habits, while others may fancy that there is some- thing whimsical about their own minds. Review your counting, recast your calendar, and see whether you do not have reason to glory in the frame-like imagery of mind. In rarer cases, the days of the week and months of the year may have a mental coloring and that wholly independent of winter's white, spring's green, sum- mer's red, autumn's yellow. But the possession of colored mental forms is rare, whereas the sketchy outlines of drag figures and temporal periods is more common than one supposes. 130 LXVI DROPPING NON-ESSENTIALS ONE has to have and use many pairs of eyes to take note of all the signs displayed upon bill- boards, trees, and in the Subway. It is plain that somebody wishes all the somebody elses to take note of certain important matters of which ignorance ex- cuses none. How is attention controlled? Just what should an advertisement contain? As note-taker, man has certain peculiarities: among them is the habit of letting many things go by for the sake of the one thing important. As a matter of fact, you note too many things, make too many responses to your nervous system, so that you fail to see the forest for the trees, the city for the mass of houses. Inhibition, as it is called, is the first step in noting the facts and things which are to have meaning for you. Do you notice all the letters in a word, or see how a "g" is formed, or mark whether the upper curve of the "s" is equal to the lower one, or whether your watch has a "VI" on it or not? No, you omit these, so why not drop other non-essentials? The social order, which always has an axe to grind, has decided that the sons of men shaU make note of 131 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY certain things. Why is professional life praised, or why does one wish to be called "doctor"? The so- cial order has attached honors to such things, and to this we respond. To make the back-to-the-farm movement count, it might be well to give degrees in farming, as Doctor of Agriculture. To get manual labor back into the hands of Americans, it might be well to have honors and titles attached to work in the shop. As it is, men neglect or fail to recognize the im- portance of such things because the social order has tricked them into thinking that position is everything, when it is very little. We have paid too much atten- tion to these signs which say that doctors, lawyers, soldiers are the best men in the land. One of the lurid signs hung up before our eyes is to the effect that vocational training, which gives you success at once, is better than cultural development whose fruits do not come out in the first suns of sum- mer. Thus the materialities are ahead of the human- ities, but both signs agree in asserting that knowledge is the need of the new day. The signs of the day are to the effect that trained men must mobilize. 132 LXVII THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE GOLDEN RULE 'T'HE golden rule is regarded as Heaven's first and -'- last word to Earth ; it has been set up as the gold- standard of conduct. There should be no doubt that the major ills and crimes of human life would disap- pear if the golden rule were received without the crossing of a "t" or the dotting of an "i," but we re- ceive it with our own reservations. The psychology of this great rule may help toward an influential understanding of the precious principle involved in the command to love one's self and one's neighbor in the same way and at the same time. Then, psychology knows how the rule may apply in certain details of human conduct. Take the simple case of conversation. Why is it that certain people have a way of saying the things that you both wish to hear, and which you believe are the best things to be heard? This person has not any occult power to read your mind, but he has a way of saying the right things in the right way. The enter- taining person is only applying the golden rule; he is aware of your presence, and he seeks to give you what he would like to have for himself. In letter-writing, the person whose pages are enter- 133 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY taining is making use of no special art, but is putting down for your eyes what he would like to have before his own. He judges your tastes by his, or appeals to a common sense of what is pleasant and profitable. In writing for publication, the great rule of style is only the golden rule over again. The real stylist is a person who is conscious of his reader, whom he treats as he would himself. He is as clear with you as with his own mind; he punctuates for you as he would pause if he were speaking; he chooses for you the figures of speech and expressions which appeal to him as striking. He loves his neighbor's mind as he loves his own. A flippant writer has said, "Do not unto others as you would have them do unto you, for their tastes may not be the same." The error of this is found in the idea that each has a separate form of taste, when in reality there are great standards. All of us like pictures which are well drawn and carefully colored; all rejoice in books which are well written after they have been thought through; all enjoy music which sounds the proper pitch and is duly modulated. In all these cases, the golden rule is paramount. In the choice of the best, altruism becomes aristo- cratic, and in the application of a golden rule all are enriched. 134 LXVIII THRILLS /^UR nerves are usually covered over with pads of ^^ flesh so that the excitation of a stimulus gives us more sensation and feeling than direct thrill. In the case of the "funny bone," however, the nerve is so near the surface that we are directly conscious of the shock which flies to the brain. In the midst of all conscious experiences, it is usually the thrill more than anything else which we desire. The presence of the nerve-thrill ought to answer the time-honored question whether man lives for pleas- ure; in many cases, it is true that we seek pleasant experiences, but the most typical thing about the brain is its native desire for the expression of energy, for the very thrill of life. Power is better than pleasure, energy is preferable to enjoyment, while life in its very vitality is superior to all of these. In truth, all our bones are "funny bones," for they are ready for the electric thrill which the direct contact with the world can afford. As na- ture moves upward toward man, the number of thrills increases. The plant is better than the stone, the ani- mal superior to the plant, man still better because more thrilling. 135 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Life is one search after its own thrills. Those who live the most intensively may not have the great- est amount of solid pleasures or the greatest sum of happiness, but they experience the most intense thrills. We read books because we expect thrills from every page, so that the short story has taken the place of the old-time novel, because the condensed forces of the story contain more thrills. We forsake the theatre for the silent movie, since the eye seems to have in it the power to record the thrills which would slip through the floor of the legitimate stage. Our age is the thrilling one; we think it is the era of prosperity, of power, of war, of new inter- nationalism; but beneath all these outward things there is the omnipotent thrill. We may call it news, novelty, or new interest, but its psychological base is at the human funny bone; it is all a desire for thrill. The life-thrill must be kept within appropriate limits or its value and power will be lost to us. The air around us is so charged with electricity that we have dispensed with wires and use the atmosphere as a conductor, and it is in such surcharged atmos- phere that we live. All of this makes for extra- vitality, but life without body or character would be no more than the display of nervous force. Man was meant to be a bundle of nerves, but he is sup- posed to keep the bundle tightly bound together. 136 LXIX MENTAL SIDE TRACKS EVEN the single-track mind with its power to con- centrate may have its side-tracks. In both rail- roading and psychology, the importance of the side- track is receiving recognition. What sort of side- tracks have you? When one watches another or himself, when the person in question is working upon some problem, he will observe that the subject of concentration uses certain forms of mental by-play, which have the power to assist him in the work that he is doing. The minor form of activity accompanies the major one, so that he who is solving a mathematical prob- lem making a speech, or trying to decide what to eat will indulge his brain in various forms of by- play. In the spirit of the mental side-track, the cal- culator rubs his forehead, the philosopher strokes his beard, if he have one, the public speaker plays with his watch-chain. These forms of side-tracked ac- tivity may become so eccentric as to annoy another person, but the fact remains that they are a due part of the total work under operation. The explanation of this mental side-tracking ap- pears in the fact that when one set of energies is 137 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY aroused, it is likely to set others in motion. Some- thing must be done with these competing forms of nervous activity, whence the thinker or speaker per- suades them to follow a certain line of action which he arranges for them ; that is, he side tracks the disturb- ing impulse. The mathematician will do nothing but calculate; what shall he do with other forms of nervous force? To get rid of these he rubs his forehead and makes all the disturbing forces cluster there. Playing with the watch-chain is the speaker's method of quieting the disturbing impulses, which he treats as if they were children. Fidgety movements with the fingers may seem to express nervousness and so they do, but they are really devices for avoiding a greater attack of nerves. Perhaps our national gum-chew- ing may be explained after the manner of the rub- ber comforter given to the infant. In addition to these narrow side-tracks, there are suitable forms of diversion which play their part in the full activity of a busy man. In this is the ex- planation of golf, the looking at comics in the papers, the plays written for the tired business man. In order to clear the trunk-line of activity, the busy person runs his competitive energies off to the side- track. Side-tracking is good railroading as far as the mind is concerned. Diversions and avocations, side- interests and pet philanthropies have the value of clearing the way for the main line of action. 138 LXX THE THEORIZER THERE has always been and will ever be a sus- picion attaching to theories and theorizers, but the psychology of the theoretical person has not re- ceived any real recognition. In trying to settle ac- counts with the man of theory, one can do no bet- ter than quote an iron sentence from the pen of Marshal Foch: "Theory is a fine weapon when wielded by a strong man." The psychology of the genuine theorizer seems to involve both clearness of thought and strength of pur- pose; the sharper the sword the stronger must be the hand. In this connection, Caesar, Washington and Napoleon seem to be different from Hercules, Samp- son, Hindenburg. The victorious brain is a balance of strength and vision; either alone is fatal. In this way, theory may be likened to the hair trigger of a gun, it is a fine device when held by a steady arm. Given theory alone and we have in- ertia of will, a condition produced by the fact that theory is likely to create a balance of opinion, whence it may be this, it may be that. Given force alone and the train tries to run without tracks. It is unfortunate for the progress of human in- 139 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY telligence that we should lay such stress upon ac- tion, and tend to crown the man who does things. We are on our guard against the man who simply thinks, but are not so suspicious of the mere doer of the word. We are superstitious about action. A possible way out of the conflict between theory and practice is off'ered by psychology, which has shown us that intellect and will, the power to think and to do, are about the same thing in complemen- tary forms. The real thinker is a kind of doer, while the genuine doer of the word is likely to think the word through to its logical conclusion. In the recent war, the victory was won just as much by con- sistent thinking as by forceful action; the military theory was in the hands of a strong man. In our country, we have looked upon our land as the place of force rather than as a seat of intelli- gence. National intelligence has been postponed as a matter which might wait. It is not too much to say that our chief lack has been lack of theory, so that a kind of Providence has had to do our thinking for us. This situation has been due to psychological cause — love of action and fear of theory. In the coimtry and its citizen there is now an opportunity to combine strength and vision: we have the strong hand, we need only the clear theory. 140 LXXI BRAIN BUBBLES T^HE bubble in the water has a strange way of -'- behaving, since it seems mighty enough to force its way up through the heavy liquid to the surface, but is then unable to go farther. On the surface, a thin film of water is able to hold down the bubble which a moment ago was able to strive against the obstacle. There are simple reasons for this, per- haps, but the fact remains. Bubbles in the brain behave in pretty much the same manner. Given a hard task, like thinking out a speech, and the brain is quite equal to its work, but when it comes to delivering what has been prepared in solitude, the brain of the speaker feels the bubble stop in its rising. In the same way, a man may go through the arduous work of mental planning only to have the powerful bubble remain powerless when the time for open action has come. Souls are full of just such bubbles; given hard tasks, and they are equal to the obstacle, but when the load lightens, the task seems over-difficult. As long as the Allies were at war with a dangerous enemy, they were able to struggle against the weight of national difference; but when the war was over 141 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY and the bubble had made its way to the surface, peace became more perplexing than war. In the pathetic case of the Russian bubble, the same phenomenon has shown itself. As long as the Russian had to contend against the weight of Czar- dom, he was able to strive and keep himself together as a citizen, but when the oppression was over and the bubble had at last reached the surface, the easy work of self-government became unusually hard. In an assembly, a man may show great energy in getting the floor, but when he comes to deliver his speech he or his hearer finds out that the open way is more difficult than the closed one. He cannot speak with the force he used in gaining his hear- ing. Our population is a bubbly one. Its members showed great power in breaking away from the home- land and in making their material way here; but when it comes to the citizenship of self-government, they find that the bubble cannot break the little film of difficulty which envelops it. There may be bubbles in your brain. While you were struggling for life and education, you were strong; now that you have the opportunity to express yourself in word or act, you have lost the one-time power. Beware of these bubbles; you have cast off the heavy load, cast off the light one. 142 LXXII THE GILT-EDGED MIND THE gilt edge on the volume of literature does not make the work a classic, but it has the power to do more than merely ornament the book; it keeps the dust out and preserves the tome from the wear and tear of time. Nevertheless the great- est books have been printed on the poorest paper, or have been written upon parchment or papyrus. The mind with the gilt edge of culture might ap- pear to be a mere matter of outer adornments and inner refinement, but such cultural adornment may have preservative power; it may keep the brain from becoming dusty. If a man deem it his business in life to work, the effectiveness of his mental engine may be increased by the application of culture as so much oil for the parts where the friction is felt. All of this shows the desirability of form in con- nection with work of any kind. The athlete who wishes to make the best kind of stroke with bat or racquet is careful about the manner as well as the matter; he strives to cultivate form. On an athletic field one is often amazed at the various exhibitions of grace, and may assume that the player has the gallery in mind; but careful consideration shows that 143 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY the player used form and grace for the purpose of enhancing skill and power. His work is literally "gilt edged." Mental form or refinement may have the same function along a different line of activity, so that the business man who cultivates art or literature may have a mind which works all the better along its own chosen tracks. A man may work better in his own territory if he knows what is going on in foreign lands, just as he may be the better master of the present if he be familiar with the past. The gilt edge of mental polish has the power to preserve the volume which he is called upon to use. The importance of gold-leaf for these mental volumes of ours is being more fully recognized every day, so that we are always reading advertisements about the way in which one should exercise memory, carry on a conversation, conduct himself with smooth- ness. Just as by-products have come to be almost equal in value to the main product, so the mental by-product, or the gold-edge upon the book, are re- ceiving their just due of attention. Psychology is a part of the gold-leaf with which the binder decorates the book, for the more we know of the mind's ways and workings the better we suc- ceed with men. In the last analysis, it may turn out that the gilt edge is just as important as the stitching of the book. 144 LXXIII THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADVICE 'T'HE subject of advising, the giving and receiving -■- of advice, has been treated in a humorous way, but the psychological secret of advice has still to be discovered. In the case of advice, it is more blessed to give than to receive; then it is often said that, be- fore advising a person, it is well to find out what he intends to do. Most of the advice asked, most of the advice given has fallen to the ground as between two stools. Take first the man or woman who askes advice about whom to marry, where to spend the vacation, what position to accept. What is the real motive of the person who wishes to know what to do, or what you would do in such a case? The advice is asked, but it will not for a moment be followed. In the case of the one asking advice, the prime motive seems to be a desire to communicate the fact that an opening of some kind lies before the one who asks the other's opinion ; somebody is willing to marry him or her, certain summer or winter resorts beckon, this or that office-door is revolving on its pivots. In this spirit, one asks advice out of the vanity which would have you know of his or her opportunities. 145 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY The one who seems to ask a question as to what should be done by him is more anxious to tell that he is going to do something. He tells you the news about himself, for which satisfaction he is willing to bear but not heed your opinion in the matter. As Addison's Spectator said, "A woman never asks ad- vice about marriage imtil her wedding-clothes are made." The cheerful giver of advice is just as hypocritical; he wishes to impress you with the fact that the pros- pect which looms up before you is a matter in which he is fully experienced. Like the one asking advice for the sake of talking about himself, the one giving advice has the same motive of self -communication in mind. Each talks about himself, and no advice is asked or given. In spite of this unhappy situation, there is still a place for genuine advice in the lives of those who wish really to live and who feel that they cannot live in a solitary way. It may be that the future will be- come to a degree the age of advice, which will be fortunate for human beings whose lives are made such tangles by the complications of civilization. The new advice will come as soon as we realize that we should live shared lives. In such shared lives, the experience of one will become of value to the other. A true friend will give the advice which at present can come only from doctor or lawyer. 146 LXXIV LUCID MOMENTS LUCID moments are unfortunate experiences in the minds of the mentally afflicted, for they are but the bright lights against the background of men- tal darkness. In the mind of the sane, however, the lucid moment is the thing desirable, the thing to be cultivated. Most of our lives are drab and stale, but there can come moments of special insight and defi- nite resolution; these are the lucid and strong mo- ments of the mind. A man has a lucid moment in the midst of his work when he stops to ask himself, "What is it all about? Why this rushing from place to place, this occupation with this task and that?" One eats and works, works and eats, but the purpose of this tak- ing in and giving forth energy does not appear at the table or in the office. It takes the special, lucid moment to make things clear to the mind of the worker. Lucid moments in 1914 could have prevented the war just as these special, bright moments might have terminated the conflict long before the end came. At the present time, the nations of the world are trying to get the lucid moment in whose light war shall be- 147 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY come less and less possible, or impossible altogether. The lucidity of the moment has appeared in the form of an idea — The League of Nations. In our own country, the lucid moment of mean- ing has come in the form of a question mark — " What is America, what is the significance of her doctrines?" Once Uncle Sam was a sort of school- boy, who was better known by the name of Yankee Doodle; then he became a kind of newly rich among the peoples of the earth; now he is becoming a strong man, a helpful Hercules among the weaker sons of men. We do not slander our brains when we suggest that we get through life with a minimum of intelli- gence. We feel from time to time that the kind and amount of illumination which we enjoy is more like the rays which come in through the deadlight in the street than those which might be enjoyed in the open of the day. In our mental aifairs we save daylight when we might as well be burning daylight. We stand in need of the lucid moment. Psychology, with its power to get at the source of ideas, can give every one a whole series of lucid moments. We do not study the science for the sake of passing an examination in college or normal school or with the idea of becoming mystical, but primarily with the purpose of gaining insight into the ways in which the brain works. Psychology deals with these lucid moments. 148 LXXV LOVE AND HATE ARE THE SAME PSYCHOLOGY prepares us for paradoxes most of which spring from the tendency on the part of emotion to reverse its processes and put pain for pleasure, fear for hope, hate for love. After all, what is the difference between such contrary emotions as love and hate? In the most obvious but not most important of human love-hates is that which appears in the senti- ment which as a web is spun between the sexes. Every suitor is a kind of Jekyll-Hyde, and is expected so to be. If he woo with kindness he will have little chance with the maid who has read about the Cave- man. The worst cases of hate are among those who love, as the worst of wars are civil wars. In the same manner, but on a larger scale, it is quite possible for one to exercise both love and hate toward his country. Among the Russian Nihilists of the last century, it was quite common for one to in- sist that his hatred for Russia was really love of coun- try, although the Bolshevists of the day do not make such a fine distinction. It is quite possible and tolerable for love of one's land to show itself in the form of downright hatred for the country as its affairs are conducted at some 149 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY one time. The Ejiglishman may hate the England of the Tory, the Frenchman the France of the Bour- bon, the American the America of the stand-patter, the German the Germany of HohenzoUem. It must have been in something like this sense that Dr. John- son said he liked a "good hater." If one is to be a good hater, whether of the other person or his own country, he must be a hater on some grounds other than instinct or native repugnance. He must hate with a principle, and must avoid that swift reversal of sentiment whereby "each man kills the thing that he loves." At the same time, it must be admitted that such a boiling over of love into hate is one of the commonest experiences with the human brain. The main thing in life is to have feelings and to have them in abundance. Feeling must be pro- nounced, if it be neither hot nor cold, it is too Laodicean for human life. Psychology may have no cure for the love-hate malady, no surgery capable of separating these Siamese twins, but it can call one's attention to the fact that love and hate abide in the same breast, as the same fountain may give forth waters sweet and bitter, as the same mouth may utter blessings and curses. Psychology can do more perhaps; it can advise individuals that all their emotions, pleasant and pain- ful, loving and hating, should have a reason for their being. It can show man the need of meaning in emo- tion. 150 LXXVI IS YOUR MIND MUSCLE BOUND? THE most advanced methods of physical training seem to shun the heavy exercises famous with the old-time giants, for the possession of too much muscle may be as bad as having too little. How is it in the case of mental training? With so much more to be learned, are we careful to keep the brain from becoming muscle-bound? The older idea of studying for the sake of men- tal discipline, with drill for drill's sake, memory for memory's sake, seems to have produced the condi- tion of the muscle-bound mind. The student was not flexible, he was found ill-adapted to activities which required versatility ; he was muscle-bound within. Not only education but all other forms of human activity have the tendency bind brain or brawn, mind or muscle. They say that we learn to skate in the summer and to swim in the winter, because the cessation of the wonted activity has the power to per- fect the performance of the same when once it is resumed. To refrain from skating or swimming is to unbind the muscles involved. The need of life and work is a certain effervescence which makes old tasks new and changes new ones to 151 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY old. What work needs is not merely strength of mind and body, but a flexibility of the powers in- volved, and it is just this flexibility which tends to pass away when the mind or muscle becomes bound by habit. One may try to remove wrinkles from the brow or sore spots from the muscles by having the masseur treat them from without, but the best way to smooth out such wrinkles is to set brain and muscle at work upon some new tasks. The ointment which is put and rubbed in vainly from the outside would better come from within as a varied form of activity. The habit of watching the ways of the mind in- stead of merely using the mind is one way to remove the wrinkles from the brow. The psychologist him- self might profit by some form of manual labor such as he may have indulged during the war, which oc- cupation was a godsend to him. But since the psy- chologist is exceptional, it is well for others to make use of his art for the purpose of removing stifi"ness from the muscle, wrinkles from the brow. We are slowly coming to the place where we are willing to admit that perhaps business is not busi- ness. That is, we see that business tends to make us muscle-bound so that we must indulge in some extra form of occupation for the sake of relief. By put- ting work into its right place we avoid the hardening of all arteries, the arteries of activity. 152 LXXVII PSYCHOLOGICAL FOG TIME THE ferry boat may come to be a thing of the past, but the commuter will be a long time forget- ting what the ferries call "fog-time." There are all sorts of times, as there are various estimates of time, but fog-time is unique in that it is no definite time at all. The boat goes out when its mate drops into the other slip, and that no matter what the schedule may have been. Fog-time is the time of practical op- portunity. Such fog-time is experienced by every one who has not had his or her education according to schedule or curriculum. If such a person be wise, he will do as the pilot does, and fare forth when the time comes, no matter what the hour may be. To the credit of those who attend night-schools, take courses of lec- tures, and read what may well be called books, it must be said that they are showing themselves good pilots who put forth slowly when the bell rings out its fog-time. Fog-time is of a Fabian nature; that is, it is the indefinite, undetermined period when things can be done no matter what the calendar may dictate. We plant in Spring and reap in the Fall; yes, but life is 153 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY more agriculture, and there are many summer op- erations which must be done in winter. The nations of the earth are now running accord- ing to the bells of fog-time. Reason would dictate that they should cease from war and rehabilitate in- dustry, but the times are not ready for such a rational change so they run as a boat in the fog, they work as they can. The Allies must wait for the United States, Russia must wait for the miracle among the nations of the earth. The individual who comes to the realization that his moves are made in an irregular form of time arrives at a kind of time-consciousness impossible with regularity of hours and days. Thus he comes to an appreciation of what we call odd moments, odd they may be in their activities, although they are just as regular as other moments. Time, which is now under discussion in the scien- tific world, is more easily felt than analyzed. It is good psychology to appreciate the fact that time has character and quality as well as length of extension. It is what we pay attention and what we do in a mo- ment that makes that moment real. Just as they say there is no time apart from matter, so there is no real time for man unless his will lay hold of the moment and realize its possibilities. 154 LXXVIII THE PSYCHOLOGY OF CULTURE T^VEN before the Kaiser made war in the name of ^—^ Kultur, the idea of human cuUure was dreaded by many people who were in the habit of fearing fine- ness more than they dreaded ignorance. To despise and dread culture has been one of our human fail- ings, and we have done all in our power to avoid thought. It is commonly supposed that culture means so much knowledge or knowledge of a certain kind, when in truth the possession of knowledge is far from being the important thing about mental refinement and taste. One does not consider the usher at a theatre a cultured man simply because the usher has seen many plays, or does one believe that a servant in an art gallery a person of aesthetic culture simply because that servant has spent his time among the fine canvasses. Culture must be something more than the possession of knowledge no matter how fine that knowledge may be. From the psychological viewpoint, culture is more than anything else a matter of interest, an interest in those things which concern mankind as a whole race. For this reason culture may be described as 155 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY the having of remote interests rather than local and temporary ones. The cultured person has interests in foreign lands and foreign languages, not because they are foreign to him, but for the reason that such interest makes him feel sympathy for the lives of men at all times, in all places. In addition to the cultivation of broad, remote in- terests, the would-be cultured person has or cultivates the power to internalize what he sees, hears, reads; that is, he makes the fact a state of his mind. It is the easiest thing in the world to respond in action to something near at hand, and to answer the questions, "What shall we eat and drink, how shall we be housed and clothed?" It is more difficult, more worthy to give mental response to things which have no im- mediate interest for us. Our American life has been careless of culture with its inner, remote interests, since our life has been a matter of quantity; how much coal, timber, wheat, gold? But our new national life can be just as much an aflfair of quality, under whose influence we shall consider what pictures we are painting, what poems we are writing, what discoveries we are making. Culture can live upon a minimum of actual knowl- edge, since culture is chiefly an attitude of mind. With little fuel the fire bums, in light winds the ship sails, on little food one can still live. So with little knowledge one may have the culture which demands taste and courage. 156 LXXIX THE AIR OF EXPECTANCY EXPECTANCY is one of our most human emo- tions, and there is always an "air of expectancy" about a person who is soon to see or hear something of importance. The opposite of expectancy is surprise, an emotion which comes upon us only to find us un- prepared. Which shall become your habitual emo- tion, expectancy or surprise; in which condition shall experiences come to you, in those of mental prepared- ness or unpreparedness? In the course of events, the Unexpected is more likely to happen; for, as H. G. Wells has suggested, the number of things which may happen is legion, that of the expected is limited by human imagination. In order to prepare the brain for its future experi- ences, one would better expect the Unexpected. The immortal difference between those who suc- ceed and those who fail lies in the way that each treats his expectations. In the late war, Marshal Foch had all expectations analyzed and classified so that when the enemy's attack opened he had only to apply his forces to this, that, or the other expecta- tion. The war was lost to the German because he could not conjure up enough rational expectations, 157 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY A man, every man, has a right to expect some- thing of himself and the world he lives in. Emer- son said, "When I awake in the morning, I expect nothing of the universe," but that calm attitude may have been due to the fact that the thinker's brain had worked out all the expectations the night before. The more you exercise the power of expectation, the less you will be taken by surprise. One should expect something of his brain, which is as a sea in which the fish are still to be caught. The inventor, the discoverer, the scientist is little more than a man who has expectations; the more intense the expectation the more likely is success. In dealing with another person, one should real- ize that the oscillation of emotions is such that the other is likely to present a different face on the morrow. In recognition of this unexpected in emo- tion, it has been said that one should treat every friend as though at some time he might become an enemy, every enemy as though he might become a friend. Between the Expected and the Unexpected there is but a shadowy line ; by the use of reason and imag- ination, you may increase the area of expectation, may invade the domain of the unexpected. One should cultivate the air of expectancy. 158 LXXX THE BRAIN A BARREL Tj^CCENTRICS are good things for locomotives; -'— ' they make the driving-wheels go round. But the engine is not all eccentric; its cylinders and piston- rod are more to the point when it comes to the ques- tion of energy. In your mental machine, how much of the energy goes into the eccentrics? The eccentric person presents to the world a com- plete array of angles and corners. He has his tradi- tions, his whims, his habits. Before he can work, he must exercise all these collateral elements in his character. When you approach him with a business- proposition or a Liberty Bond, you must look out for his angles. It is better to be like a barrel, for a barrel with all its load presents few surfaces to the world. The barrel is not nailed together, but is itself held in shape naturally by its staves, hoops, and heads. It is stout, but it is easily handled. At the end of the trip the barrel is in better condition than the box. Can you not deliver your goods without presenting so many awkward angles to the world about you? Must everybody else have a care about your private opinions and personal prejudices? Your box-brain 159 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY is carrying no more than the barrel-brain of your neighbor, but it gives much more trouble. The eccentric person with the box-mind is likely to stay where he is put. The man who resembles the barrel will not stand unless his head is up. Then he is as firm as a rock. To get into the more pliable and pleasing position, you must substitute thoughts for opinions, acts for impulses, views for sentiments. He is as well put together as the barrel with its elastic staves. Then, the barrel-like individual is well shut in. You can open him only at the head. His existence is well thought out, and you cannot carry him around as though he were a mere box of a man. The eccen- tric person gets in his own way. His sides and com- ers make him fragile. In his supposed firmness, he is likely to crack open. When you want to pack fragile things like bits of China, you choose the barrel, which is pliable in its toughness. So with men; the stout, springing person can safely carry the fine things of the mind. 160 LXXXI A MENTAL CLOSE UP 'X'HE progress of the movie has been such as to run -■- the world on a reel, change the cosmos to celluloid, and make the stage a non-essential industry. So much motion is there to the moving-picture that now and then there must be a stationary picture, a "close-up" in which the exact features and the com- plete expression of the star may be beheld. In more than one way the action of consciousness is like that of the movie-reel; we call it the "stream of consciousness," but a stream cannot mirror mental states in the way that the film can reproduce them. All the mind's a movie, and we are both actors and spectators. The first mental close-up is attention, the power of the mind over itself, the focussing of all the revelant mental states into one moment of conscious- ness. The cursory glance and general impression suffice for the most experiences, but there comes a time when there must be the concentrated close-up. In proportion to the frequency of this state of mental quintessence is the force of the individual, or his chance of success. Men may thus be divided into two classes — those who pay attention and those who do 161 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY not; those who have the close-up on the film and those whose minds slip right along without pause. The close-up involves a consciousness of self, a holding of the mirror up before the mind. We per- ceive all other things, and are ever on the look out for new views; why not close up the mind and let it look at itself? People shrink from the close-up be- cause they fear to know just who or what it is which is doing all this acting in connection with daily work, but the close view of the mind is sure to clarify the whole film. It was a close-up on the part of Uncle Sam which made the war-movie take on a different aspect. As soon as Uncle Sam saw the real features of the Kaiser, who had strutted back and forth on the screen. Uncle Sam decided to enter the war. The result of this national close-up will appear when the history of the war is written. Individuals and nations owe it to themselves to stop the film and secure a steady view of the parties in action. Perhaps the nation cannot do this umtil the individuals who make up that nation resolve upon separate close-ups. Not every shadow on the film and screen of your consciousness has meaning, but there are meanings all along the line if you will but focus upon them. 162 LXXXII SORE SPOTS TTE who has a cut or bruise upon his hand comes -'--'- to fancy that everything which he touches smites him in return upon just that spot. The pain which the hand feels makes the hand believe that the sore spot is the natural prey of all objects. The fact of .the matter is that one is over-conscious at just the sore point, and notices the touch which otherwise would pass by unchallenged. Like the body, the mind has its sore spots, or places where one is touchy about certain topics or ideas; and it seems as though just those annoying ideas were ever seeking out the weak points in one's mind. Here again, there is nothing unusual in our experiences, but it is only that we are touchy or sore about certain matters. All the others are recorded without the significant pain which we feel here and there, from time to time. The person with the sore spot on body or mind is wise if he refrain from prejudice, for it is foolish to believe that some envious thing or person is ever on the lookout for the weak point in our nature. The sensitive spot is there, no doubt, but it is not likely that our circumstances seek it out as the enemies of 163 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Achilles looked for the vulnerable point above his heel. You may have an Achilles-tendon in body or brain, but it is best to think about the sounder parts of your make-up. The chief disadvantage of the sore spot lies in the tendency to let it afflict all of the body; if that touchy point be in the mind, it will suffuse the whole brain. Just as Achilles was vulnerable in his body, Othello was as susceptible in his brain. This circumstance led Desdemona to assert that when a man has something in particular on his mind, he is apt to "wrangle with inferior things"; that is, the one sore spot makes all the others ache. Des- demona as psychologist added something to the ef- fect that if just one finger ache, all the healthy mem- bers of one's body are found to feel the affliction. We may be cold in hand or foot, but we feel the chilliness all over the body. We know that bitter taste is confined to the cells at the root of the tongue, and yet the feeling of "bitterness" seems to pervade one's whole soul. We realize that our sorrow is special, and yet we make it general. We let the sore spot spread as though it were gangrene. The remedy for all this is, more than anything else, an affair of judgment. There is an occasion for feeling sore at one point but no reason for feeling a complete ache, still less reason for passing the ache on to all other people. 164 LXXXIII THE FULL RIGGED MIND THE old-style full-rigged ship, with royal and gal- lant-sails, is seldom seen in our ports or on the high seas in these days of steam and electric shipping. Like other lost arts, the building and sail- ing of such frigates is largely a matter of memory. But the reminiscence of the full-rigger, yards and rat- lines, cringles and cross-trees is a glorious one full of romance. The nearest approach to this proud sea-bird is the modem schooner of several masts. In the same way, full-rigged individuals are giv- ing way to the steamer or schooner-type of men and women; the completely equipped personality is as rare as the full-rigged ship. Time was when man made his own clothes and shoes, built his own house and raised his own food. In those days, a man, like Franklin, could write and print his own book, while men generally worked out their own political plat- forms and formulated their own creeds. Those were the days of full-rigged men. Like clothes and houses, man's education used to be square-rigged with several masts and plenty of sails upon them. Instead of being what we call a "specialist," such a man was a sort of "generalist," who had sails for all kinds of winds; then, he had the 165 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY wit and the courage to fare forth for a voyage which might last months or years. This type of full-rigged, long-distance man has been replaced by the efficient individual of our day. What has become of the well-informed person, the man or woman who specialized on all subjects, and who did not feel that anything of general interest was out of his line? Where is the man who used to write letters and carry on conversation? The man of the day dictates or dictaphones what becomes a typed communication which goes right to the point, but which has no such graces as used to appear with swan-like ships or full-rigged men. The remedy for our over-specialization is not to be found, of course, in a return to old types, but we may go forward to new ones. From what one may glean of certain advertisements, it is apparent that the need of the old-style humanism is being appre- ciated. We are invited to learn the art of writing, of speaking in public, of conversing, of meeting men. Are not these the features of the square-rigged in- dividual who has been laid up in the harbor? Sailors like to keep up the traditions of the seas, and those who are as genuine in their mentality will sympathize with them. To re-approach the square- rigged person, one might become a sort of auxiliary craft fitted for both steam and sail propelling. He may specialize upon the basis of general ideas and keep his square-rigged balance in the midst of modem improvements. 166 LXXXIV FINGER PRINTS TT is difficult to find two faces alikis even when na- A ture makes faces out of a few features. It must be that the inner expression of the countenance is the thing that varies while the eyes and lips, forehead and chin, cheeks and temples appear almost the same. In the same manner, there are no duplicates among fingers, whose loops and whorls are so arranged and inter-arranged tliat nature has enough varieties for all the people upon the planet. Nature loves variety among her forms, and she is rich enough to provide for special characters in the leaves of the tree and the faces of men. Each in- dividual receives a special seal, or coat-of-arms, upon the thumb, so that he is easily identified. What are we to think of industrial and social systems which strive to make all men appear and act alike? Nature believes in individualism. It is only when men congregate that imitation be- gins, and those who are unlike in their faces and fingers attempt to resemble one another in their words and acts and habits. There is such a dread of differ- ence, such an abhorance of the odd, that do as others do; thus arises conventionality. If one would only 167 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY counsel with one's thumb and not with his neighbor, one might realize nature's idea of individuality. One cannot be as different from his neighbor when one adopts some eccentric style of dress or gait, and it is pathetic to see how people seek such exterior in- dividuality. The true distinction between man and man, as between finger and finger, is something in- grained in the essential nature of that man. The difference is a systematic one. Just as fingers differ in their finger-prints, so hands differ in the various things which they can do. This man is clever at wood-work, another can paint, a third can play the piano. It is in the brain, with its countless cells, that we try to be like others, when it is in that same brain that we should show original: ity and difference. For the purpose of personal individuation, nothing is more important than the recognition of your own mental type. Your memory may be of the visual, auditory, or tactual kind; your temperament may be swift or slow, strong or weak ; your feelings may turn to either passion or sentiment. It is for you to dis- cover the difference. Then, one has the right to act upon his own initia- tive. For practical purposes, one may act as a mem- ber of a party or a denomination, but he may still preserve his personality. The individual initiative is the train-dispatcher of the mind ; once the train starts, all tracks are open to it, open to the self-propelled individual. 168 LXXXV MENTAL OVERTONES THE real tone is not a tone by itself, but the funda- mental with a full series of overtones, which blend with the pitch of the string. If music had no overtones, it would have none of its present richness; if all it were all overtone, it would be shrill and falsetto. It is the fusion of high and low which makes the proper pitch of the note. The music of the mind is arranged in the same way, so that the presence of the mental overtone is desirable if not imperative. In order to perceive the particular object, one should see the full landscape of overtoned sensations. To think of the present and understand demands the many overtones of his- tory. Every chef is a kind of chemist, every farmer a botanist, every business man an economist, every politician a statesman. Those who succeed do so by means of the way in which they combine the over- tones with the fundamental. The true teacher of modem languages is familiar with the modes of ancient speech. The true orator possesses and employs the overtones of conviction; so that the orations of Webster recited by the sopho- more are not orations at all. The "speaker" may 169 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY have the words of the orator, but the overtones of thought beneath the brow are lacking, and the result is largely words, words, words. To cultivate the overtone, you will have to pay heed to what is called the "useless." In business, the details of courtesy and tact are so many overtones which enrich the fundamental of profit and influence. In work with the hand, the overtone of rhythm and the artistic touch make the work finished, so that the hand is ever superior to the machine. In writing, the overtone of style is necessary to make the main idea convincing. Our contemporary education makes the mistake of ignoring the pedagogical overtone. The School argues that the boy or girl is preparing to do just this or that, so that the fundamental concern should be for the main thing minus the overtone; but the mind does not conduct its affairs in that way any more than a tree grows straight up without spreading forth its branches. The cultivation of the overtone begins as soon as one realizes that his thoughts and acts occur in a great series of relations, none of which can well be ignored. The engineer whose train runs on tracks may be able to fix his gaze straight ahead, but the sailor whose ship sails in the free ocean must keep his eyes to windward, must scan the full horizon. The overtone is not loud, but it has its place in the note. So the full music of the mind demands these pianissimo tones to produce its ultimate harmony. 170 LXXXVI THE CREAM SEPARATOR OF THE BRAIN THE humble, cud-chewing cow has done her best for mankind, which she has gradually turned into a fatted calf. Within recent years, the cream of the cow's milk has not been allowed to rise by its lightness, but has been thrown off by man's device — the cream-separator. This device saves time and cream, and makes the cow more valuable. In the milk of human thought, it is a question whether the cream should be allowed to rise of its own accord, or be thrown off artificially by means of some educational separator. Cream will rise of it- self in time, but we are impatient and want the rich results at once. A mental cream-separator may be a good thing in the bland milk of human thought and feeling. With the product of the human brain, it is doubtful whether the thought-cream will rise of itself; perhaps it must be thrown off by some sort of thought-separator. Then we shall have thought at its best. Our mental products, which come from milking the brains, are not pure. In the midst of our true thoughts, we have the heavy milk of whim, personal feeling, private opinion, and it is difficult to make 171 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY men feel the need of a separator. One is more anx- ious to say what he thinks than to think what he says. We have the superstitious feeling that what's in the mind is to be prized and given out simply because it is there. Carry this a few steps farther, and you have the disordered mind of the maniac. The mental separator is of use of preventing, or inhibiting, impulses which have no right to self-ex- pression simply because they exist. As well assert that weeds have a right to grow in the garden because they spring up in its fertile soil, or that a gun has a right to be discharged anywhere and it any time simply because it is loaded. The will-separator selects from among the mass of tangled impulses those that are worthy of rising as deeds of the mind. To do everything is to do nothing, so that to act is to choose among the lively impulses which writhe after expression. The will- separator has work on its hands, or cogs, when it comes to sifting the impulses. Then there are emotions which will be more ap- propriate if they are put into the separator for treat- ment. We are not too emotional, but we are too likely to give vent to the wrong kind of heart-throbs. To have appropriate emotions, impulses, ideas — use the brain separator. 172 LXXXVII DO NOT MAKE YOURSELF SCARCE IT is often advisable for one to make himself scarce by getting out of danger's way, or by keeping out of unnecessary trouble. But there is a danger in making one's self scarce, since selfhood is all too scarce now. There are plenty of persons but few personalities; many there are who are selfish, but few are themselves. The scarcity of selfhood is due in part to man's natural timidity. Let others exist if they will, so we say, but do not call upon us to show what we are. Let others write the poems, lead the armies, or hold the offices; we will make ourselves scarce. We make ourselves scarce because a great deal of popular morality consists in scaring the self out of its selfhood. We call this "altruism," or the art of letting other people live our lives, express our thoughts, and do our work. We think that we are ex- pected to "live for others" when these mysterious "others" are just the same kind of people that we are. For the sake of having our neighbors live their own lives and do their own work, we make our precious selves scarce. There is a pathetic scarcity of selfhood in our great 173 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY industries. The man who tends a machine so faith- fully that he becomes a cog in the wheel is making himself decidedly scarce. The man who figures up his employer's profits is making himself about as scarce as a human soul can be. Laboring people who dress, and act alike make their selves as scarce as radium or platinum. The self is the scarcest thing in the world to-day. There are soldiers, workers, and functionaries, but there are not as many independent selves. In war- times, we have to indulge a great deal of our power to make the self scarce, but no one would speak of such times as the normal ones; even now, under dis- tressing conditions, those who are themselves show just what a self-propelled individual can be and do. They flash forth beyond themselves like guns. They recoil when they act as a powerful gun recoils. They may not make much noise — true individuals are usually silent — ^but they whistle like bullets in the air. To overcome the scarcity of self-metal, learn to act upon your own initiative. To have the self, provide a harbor for the little craft in your brain. To express yourself, see that there is the powder of thought behind the word which springs from your lips. There is no substitute for the human self. The Germans are trying to produce synthetic selfhood, a spurious product of the soul. The self is scarce, but can be made plentiful. 174 LXXXVIII SAVING DAYLIGHT— BURNING DAYLIGHT THE sun has done no more for us than give us existence, light, and heat. The time will come when the excess power of the sun will be taken up by the earth when the earth has used up its supply of coal and wood. Then we shall be able to bum daylight and save it too. Ever since the time that Adam and Eve were driven from the garden, man has been carrying on experi- ments with the sun. What's to be done with the day? How shall labor adjust itself to light? How may precious daylight saved from fiery daylight be burned? Benjamin Franklin calculated that, in his day, if each able-bodied individual were to work two-hours out of the four and twenty the work of the country could be done up in short order. We have made other arrangements, and we see the result. Labor is unhappy, and the work of the world is not done with speed or satisfaction. We do not know how to save daylight. Daylight is saved and burned by concentration. As the burning-glass gathers the rays of light into a fiery focus, so the man who concentrates can save 175 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY and bum his daylight. A locomotive engineer does a day's work and a good one when he pilots his train for a couple of hundred miles. His skill bums the daylight as thoroughly' as his engine consumes coal. Time is long and art is fleeting. Shakespeare worked but a few years putting eternity into his plays. In a life of less than fifty years, Balzac wrote a whole library of novels. Raphael laid down his brush at the age of thirty-seven, and in the same period Byron had written his poems. Shelly penned his poems be- fore he had passed thirty; Keats was done even earlier. All people are active, many are busy, and some work. The difference depends upon the ability to bum the daylight. You save the daylight when you keep the details from interfering with the complete plan. You bum the daylight when you turn the fire of thought upon what you are doing. Meatless days may be good, but sun-less days, or days when daylight is not burned, are bad. An in- calculable amount of the sun's power has gone to waste. Some of it may be saved if it be burned. 176 LXXXIX THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MANNERS WE Americans are in the habit of associating man- ners with the old world and an older genera- tion. With Pilgrims in our East and pioneers in our West, we have connected the idea of something more essential — the subduing of the land to the needs of living men and women. Manners we associate with aristocracy; the coming of democracy seems to mark the end of the era of etiquette. If old manners have passed away with princes, new manners are coming with the era of the people. We are beginning to learn that as oil to machinery so is style to a person; oil and style eliminate friction and promote ease and silence. "A lady is serene," said Emerson, "a gentleman makes no noise." Now these are the ideals which we try to inculcate with a machine, a serene, silent six. Why should we not be as wise with ourselves as with our cars? The training of the soldier was in larger measure a training in those manners which would prove ef- fective when the dough-boy came to the ill-mannerly work of the trenches. Why was all this saluting, this immediate response to command when the soldier was drawn up in line? If fighting was such rough busi- 177 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY ness, why was the training of the soldier made to promote such smoothness? The military manner of the drill was meant to promote swift and unthinking response on the part of the boy in khaki. The better he behaved on or- derly parade, the harder he fought in the tumult of battle. From being a perfect gentleman on the ave- nue he became a terror to the Hun when the fight was once on. Manners won the war. The era of effective manners shows its fair head again in the realm of business courtesy. We are not so young that we have forgotten the time when salesmen and officials of all kinds paid no attention to our feelings or their manners. In the course of time, it came to be seen that courtesy was an asset and politeness profit. Never mind whether the customer bought at this one time or the traveller took this one train, the salesman and official were taught by man- ners to sell for the future. Courtesy became as im- portant as goods and rolling-stock. The new manners have about them a depth un- known in the old age of bowing and scraping. It has been discovered that politeness on the outside must unite with kindness on the inside. The union of die two makes perfect manners. It may be better to have kindness than manners, but manners which express real kindness and genuine interest are omni- potent. This age of courtesy is coming in. 178 xc THE PSYCHOLOGY OF CITY LIFE THE rise of cities marked the beginnings of modem civilization just as it saw the coming of what the socialists call the "Bourgeoisie." The growth of cities was one of the features which stamped the nine- teenth century, just as the over-growth of cities is des- tined to become the peculiarity and problem of the twentieth century. New York is preparing to accom- modate ten millions of people. There are numerous disadvantages of city-life, and the stream of automobiles bearing the urbanites away is sufficient proof of this. The week-end is another evidence of the fact that, like seals under the ice, man must come forth from time to time and breath. That which the city lacks and cannot by any artificial de- vices secure is light and air; illumination and ven- tilation are poor substitutes for these natural bless- ings. But the chief need of the city is the sky ; those who live in cities know little about sun and stars. The advantages of the city are chiefly psychological. Its food it draws from far-off grain-fields and near-by farms; its water flows in from mountain-streams; its clothes it takes from the sheep upon a thousand re- mote hills. All its material advantages are imported. Its chief asset is found in the state of mind which it produces. 179 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY The shut-in city is a stage where many a comedy or tragedy is enacted before one's eye. Hence the city gives the entertainment of novelty and change. It might seem as though, with the hurly-burly of city life, the annoyance of crowds and noise, and the in- conveniences produced by what are called modern im- provements would drive one mad, but it is rural monotony which is more likely to fill the insane asy- lums. The city takes one out of himself and refreshes his life every moment; it works upon us psycholog- ically. In spite of the healthy stimulation which comes from city-life, it must be admitted that a certain nucleus of quietude is necessary for sanity and ra- tionality. This amounts to saying that the wise city- dweller keeps a kind of rural heart within his breast, so that he may be his private self in the midst of such exciting publicity. To have such rural tranquility within and a corresponding degree of excitement with- out is the secret of sane living; it may be likened to a park or garden in a great town. The city can be and is the loneliest of places, for of the thousands who congregate there are found few whom one knows. It is the place of Man, not men; the location of people, not folks. It can press man in upon himself so that he shall find his own soul as he could not discover it in the fields. If you live in the city, cultivate a country-soul; if yours is country life, try to arouse a city-brain. 180 XCI GIANTISM GIANTS look to us as so many towers of strength, when in reality they are so many sick men; their disease is in their brains, where the gland which con- trols the growth of the body is in some way affected. The larger they are in appearance, the smaller they are in all that goes to make up greatness of mind or body. Just as there is a bodily giantism, which comes from some wrong condition of the brain, so is there a mental giantism, for which the same brain is re- sponsible. In either case, we might refer to it as the "big head." Such a mental malady makes the indi- vidual feel big both in body and mind; his features enlarge until he looks and acts as a freak. Giantism is a brain-trouble which may afflict both individuals and nations. In the case of ancient mon- archies, it is easy to point out how the idea of po- litical greatness made the nation over-reach itself and go beyond the limits of justice. In our own day, the most flagrant case of national giantism appeared in the form of Prussianism, with its over-sense of na- tional destiny. Not only the imperial head of that ruined nation, but almost every other brain in the 181 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Fatherland suffered from the over-enlargement of ideas, with the result and the bill so well known to us now. A fruitful source of glandular greatness is found in the position which a man may occupy. In the old world, a person "prince" or "count" is bound to ap- pear great no matter how ordinary his personality may be; in the new world, one who is elected to office, gov- ernor, senator even president, is likely to be consid- ered a great man simply because the title of "honor- able" is attached to his name. We know, and for- eigners do too, that the untitled Shakespeare, Goethe, Franklin, Emerson i^ really the great man; but there is still the giantism which is sure to attach itself like a hook-worm to the man who happens to hold office. Such giantism is a disease for which there is no sim- ple remedy. It is the business of psychological analysis to re- move these troubles from the brains of all concerned, for a little consideration as to what makes for great- ness will save us from praising others or ourselves who happen to be in a fortunate position. The great- est man is not the most fortunate or the most highly praised, but the one whose personality counts for what it is, for a soul-force in art, religion, morals, politics. If the phrenologist assumes to know something about the brain from what he feels on the skull, there may be a more critical phrenology which will detect the xmfortunate swelling whence springs false giant- ism. 182 XCII THE MENTAL DRY DOCK TT is easy enough to push ahead in one's work, just -■- as it is not hard for the full-rigged ship to sail along under the power of the winds, or under its own power; but to turn aside to the dry dock for over- hauling seems to be a waste of time, an occasion of lost opportunity. Nevertheless, the dry dock may mean more to the ship than the dock into which it carries its cargo. Every individual is expected to carry his own cargo, so that no amount of altruism should cause him to un- load his life's goods into the hold of another. You have your talents, tastes, ideas; they are to you what the load is to the ship which sails from port to port. It is usually those who have made a mess of life or lost courage who begin to talk about "living for others." In order to carry one's proper freight, it is neces- sary to turn aside from time to time for dry docking. Some wait until the doctor sends them to a sanitarium, but it is better to take charge of one's own welfare, and thus submit to some self-criticism. What is the real meaning of this eating, working, sleeping; this rushing to and fro — what is it all about? Such questions put your brain in the dry dock, where the 183 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY hull may be overhauled, leaks repaired, and the ves- sel repainted. The purpose of Sabbaths or week-ends is for dry docking; the same may be said of vacations. The reason why the magazines are full of advertisements of physical culture, mental healing, the training of will and memory is because the restless worker and thinker do not know how to put their own bodies and brains in the dry dock. It is natural for one to wonder whether he is sea- worthy, whether he can make the port of wealth, po- sition, or success. He has had his many trial-trips, so that his great need is to be lifted out of the waters of work for the purpose of discovering how his men- tal craft is weathering the stress and storm. The business of psychology is increasing all the time as the active life of men and women call for new and increasing reactions. The original purpose of psychology was to discover to the man himself just how his mind was made up and worked. Psychology is thus one of the best dry docks, since in it the indi- vidual may go to the very bottom of his brain and see how it is faring. Have you sufficient health and strength for this new enterprise? Have you the right idea, the proper qual- ity of ideal? Have you tested your mind, its power to receive impressions and react upon them? Has your brain been in the dry dock? 184 XCIII THE HEART IN THE RIGHT PLACE nPHE anatomists will have to settle the question -*- whether the heart is in the right place; mean- while we may wonder why the heart should take its place so high up the body and so much to one side. So far is the heart from the feet, that the feet become cold; so near is it to the head that we are victims of apoplexy, but we shall have to leave it about where it is. Men have talked about wearing the heart upon the sleeve, but it is still to be suggested that we place the heart along side the brain so that there may be a better understanding between thought and emotion, between logic and love. If this is not to be done in the body, it might be arranged within the mind. The brain stands in need of the heart, so that one shall say no longer, "The heart has arguments which the understanding knows nothing about." With the heart in its right place near the brain, the heart-argu- ment will be one with which the brain will become familiar. The difficulty with certain types of argu- ment, as in the case of science or politics, is that the point is missed because the judgment is formed in a spirit of coolness quite foreign to the warm ways of the heart. 185 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY Brain-judgment of men, things, events might be clearer and more convincing were they wanned by the influence of the heart. We do not judge of music simply by thinking about it but by listening to it, by feeling its eff"ects. We cannot pass judgment upon war unless we allow the heart to express its sentiments as to war's sufferings; to consider merely thie cost of war is to miss the point. If the wish is father to the thought it is because the heart can take its place in the brain and there dictate just what matters shall come up for discus- sion. The cool brain as it works scientifically can give you facts, but the vital coloring of these is some- thing which the heart must supply. Apart from the emotional interpretation of facts, there will always be a kind of color-blindness and tone-deafness in the brain that proceeds in a purely mental \vay. Just as Socrates said he was wise be- cause he realized his own ignorance, so psychology has begun to show us that the more we learn about the intellect the more we are inclined to limit its importance. Apart from the practical affairs of life, the func- tion of heart and will is to clarify the intellect, so that the heart approaches its rightful place when it begins to ascend to the brain. 186 XCIV DOUBLE SYMPATHY A POET once complained that there was more -^ ■*- sympathy for men's sufferings than for their ideas, and it must be admitted that the obvious suffer- ings of the flesh make more appeal than the hidden ideas of the brain. At the same time, it is possible for the heart to feel for another's ideas, just as the brain can become aware of another's ills. True sympathy is thus dual; it feels for both sorrow and joy. When, as is sometimes the case, a philanthropist gives money for the School here and the Hospital there, he shows if unconsciously the double sympathy involved in the rational action of the heart and the emotional work of the brain. He expresses sympa- thy for the intellectual idea which longs to appear as also for the bodily suffering which wishes to be abated. To sympathize with the suflferings of other men is not a difficult matter as far as the psychology of it is concerned, since the ills which we have had show us what greater sorrows may come to the human heart. A man who has been hurt in the street is an object of great interest at least, for the reason that we have 187 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY a ready comprehension of pain. Our trouble in such cases is that our feelings flee away without any suit- able reaction. To feel and express sympathy for the scholar is not such an easy matter, since his ideas are far re- moved from the everyday workings of our brains. If the artist is starving in the garret, we understand his pain but are not so enlightened as to his art. Our sympathy for him is a half -feeling; we feel for his ills as we do not feel for his ideas. The most healthy sign of contemporary giving is not the freedom with which the gift is offered or the amount of the benefaction, but the intelligence of the philanthropy. We have made the words of the poet invalid, for we have begun to show sympathy for something more than human ills. It is easy to weep with those who weep, because they cannot excell or give us competition. Not so simple is it, however, to rejoice with those who rejoice, since they in their power of pleasure may rival us in our work. The most generous thing in the whole range of feeling is sympathy for success, for the bril- liant ideas which another may have. Sympathy has always shown a preference for the shallow waters of life where the waves break in an- guish. For the silent deeps of the mind we have not been able to feel such compassion. The new sympa- thy is double-tracked. It cares for the other man's heart and brain. 188 xcv THE APPLICATION OF WILL POWER 'T'HERE need be no doubt about the kinds or degrees -■- of power upon this planet; sea and sky, with tides and suns have power aplenty. The only question is that of application. As soon as we run out of fire- wood, coal, and oil, we shall cast about for free forms of power, and draw strength from the skies as now we extract nitrogen from the free air. What is true of planets is none the less real with persons ; the power is there, but how to apply it is the leading question. We figure that "horse-power" is just so much per horse, but manpower is ever an un- known quantity. All depends upon the man, his will, and the intelligence of his will in the application of the potentiality. No one remembers when the side-wheel steamer trundled its way across the Atlantic, few of us see paddle-wheels on steamboats, all of us are familiar with the centralized form of power applied at the stern of the ship. The side-wheeler has taken its place upon the ocean junk-heap. It is only in the applica- tion of personal power that side-wheeling still con- tinues to act as a propelling force. The political side-wheeler cannot get his bill 189 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY through the House without a great deal of side-wheel- ing, or log-rolling. The lawyer is unable to get a decision unless he uses the side-wheels of extra-talk and rhetoric. The salesman cannot sell his goods without a due amount of persiflage and camouflage. The noisy, foaming paddle-wheels continue to operate among men. It is only fair to the men of the day to say that they are showing less and less faith in such side-wheeling, so that law-making and law-applying, advertising and selling are now more likely to show the direct applica- tion of power from one point behind the idea or the thing. The foam of boasting and buncombe is not as apparent as it used to be. Great men are known by the way in which they apply power. They seem to possess more energy than the average man, but their secret is more than any- thing else in application. Such men of centralized power drive away at a single idea — Carthage, or Ger- many, must be destroyed, the slave must be free, the canal dug, the poles discovered, the world made safe for democracy. Where do you apply your will-power? You have dropped the pen for the typewriter, the stove for steam-heat, the tedious trip for the telephone, the stage-coach for the limited train. Your will should enjoy its functioning apart from the fuss and foam of side-wheeling. 190 XCVI KITE SOULS THE kite has a fine way of flying above the earth, and in the freedom of its movements it might be mistaken for a self-propelled bird. But the kite is able to fly only as it is held down by the string which the kite-flyer holds in his hand. The string may be thin and imperceptible, but it is there, and it must stretch out from hand to kite if the kite is to fly. The man with a kite^soul is able to fly about in his work or in his thought only as some stronger hand has hold of him. You might imagine him a free, self- guided individual, but a little perception will show you that he is held in by the string of another's will, by the cord of public opinion. The kite-string which holds so many down to earth in their would-be flying is often ignorance or fear or even hunger. Man with his soul wishes to fly, and he feels that he has an inalienable right to the free air; but he is unable to rise and keep his lofty posi- tion unless some other power controls him. The worker, the teacher, the preacher is often just such a kite on a string. The Chinese have always been famous for their kite-flying, and the most advanced forms of kites come 191 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY from the Celestial Empire; but one would hardly take the civilization of the Mandarins as the type of the most rational social life. Since the day when Ben- jamin Franklin flew his kite up into the storm-clouds, America has been another of the kite-flying nations. But the aim of Franklin was different from that of the old Mandarin. Franklin's kite went up for the purpose of finding out the secret of lightning, which the kite discovered. Franklin's kite was like Prometheus, who stole fire from Heaven and learned the secret of the skies. Such a kite is a worthy model for the human soul, for it showed more affinity for the lightning than for the kite-string. Man was meant to fly into intellectual realms, but he was not intended to be held down by strings at- tached to his intellect and will. The strings which to-day hold men down appear in connection with la- bor, which cannot decide whether to work or not to work unless the organization gives its command. The air of Russia is full of kites which fly, if at all, only as the Soviet may direct. Although industrial and political organizations seem to spring from Democ- racy, they revert to a time when Democracy was un- known. They represent the oppression of the kite upon the string. You were intended to fly, but your flying is best done if you proceed under your own power, like an air-plane, not like a kite. 192 XCVII THE PSYCHOLOGICAL SEMAPHORE THE old-fashioned flag-man who waved his white and red flags is a thing of the past; after him came the man in the signal-tower whose business it was to tell the engineer when to go ahead, when to stop. At last we have the automatic semaphore. As it has been with railroads, so has it been with the mind; at last we have discovered the psychological semaphore. The interesting thing about the semaphore lies in the fact that the trains which run along the tracks tell themselves to proceed or stop, as it were. When a train enters one block, it closes the same behind it; he who runs his locomotive may read his own signals. Such self -signaling is the very acme of individuality. It is the business of the individual to be both self- propelled and self-directed. One may strive to be his brother's keeper, but there are some things in the life of the private individual which he alone can ar- range. There is no other force than that of his own will to drive him along, no other means than that of his own intellect to guide. The brother-keeper has his place, but it is a restricted one. Self -signaling is one of democracy's fine arts, and 193 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY after employing all sorts of devices for the control of men, — ^kings, kaisers, czars, the most advanced States have installed the political semaphore, the device by means of which all men who are on the same political track signal themselves and one another. To have communism is to have no signals at all. But the more that individuals decide to go it alone without the direction of a superior personality as con- trolling power, the more must the individual seek to gain control of himself by thought. If all men were supermen there would be no need of a State. As Emerson said, "The State exists for the education of the wise man, when he appears the State disap- pears." Until that day of full enlightenment comes, we shall put our trust in democracy with its principle of self -signaling government. In the same manner, there must be self-control within any republic which decides to proceed without royal authority. Just as we insist that the self-con- trolled individual be a kind of wise man, so we must have wisdom in the self -controlled State. The State that runs itself by means of semaphore must be a State where there are thinkers, men who give them- selves up to the political problem. Once we have come to regard these men as experts rather than as rulers, we can tolerate their presence and consider their counsel. Never before has there been such a demand for intelligence; our semaphores must be made more perfect. 194 XCVIII A PHANTOM VIEW ^rOU have what is called a "phantom" view of a ■^ ship when the artist removes one of the sides so that you can look into bulk-head, compartment, state-room, and the hold. The phantom view of a house would reveal all the rooms and closets, halls and stair-ways. Are there such phantom views of the brain? We see man from the outside only and often a person is to himself what his neighbor is to him, a kind of half-known stranger. Man who perceives everything else in the world is not such a good per- ceiver of himself or his kind. In perception, it is only another case of where unlike poles attract while like poles repel. The phantom view of psychology is for the purpose of gaining insight, or sight which looks in. Without such an inward view, your fellow- man masquerades while you are to yourself like the forgotten image of your face in the mirror. When the real motherhood of the babe was hidden from Solomon, he seized a sword and sought to obtain a phantom view of the two women who claimed the child. Sharper than the sword was the view which saw that she who would give up her child for the 195 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY child's sake was the real mother. Solomon in his wis- dom laid aside the walls of the maternal mind and beheld how the house of motherhood was furnished. It is the air of the seer to obtain a phantom view of man. Socrates knew the houses of Athens from the outside, but he wished to know how men furnished their brain-houses within. Thus he taught men to analyze and then reveal themselves, to give phantom views of their private souls. The stage, with its dialogue, action, and gesture, is another means of granting us a phantom view of life. On the street and in the house, there are just such comedies and tragedies as are condensed upon the artificial stage, but the curbs have no foot-lights, the houses no wings, so that for the purpose of finding out what people are like we require a Shakespeare to show us man as he is. The X-rays of science, psychology, art are all for the purpose of revealing the phantom-view-point. The man who is ill has no such view of his heart, lungs, and other organs as is enjoyed by the clever physician. To cure the man of his ills, the physician makes use of diagnosis, which is his phantom view of the patient. Every man has the right to know his own soul just as the heart has the right to know its own bitterness. The phantom view of the heart may reveal the sweet as well as the bitter. You owe it to your brain to make an X-ray of your skull. 196 XCIX THE PSYCHOLOGY OF NEWS A NEWSPAPER is equal in volume to a whole ■^^ book and might be likened to a collection of short stories. To tell just what is news requires the journalistic taste of the skilled editor, who must put before our eyes just what our eyes desire to behold. What is "news," and why do we wish to keep informed about what is new in the wide world? If one were anxious to read of battles, he could turn to history and read of Caesar's or Napoleon's campaigns; if his interest were in murders, he could satisfy his emotions by reviewing the lives of Nero or Caesar Borgia; if his longing were for scandals, he could satisfy such morbid curiosity by consulting the memoirs of French courts. But what one wants is the contemporary event, that which shall make one feel that the battle was fought, the bit of gossip aired, the murder committed right under his own nose. We want the newness of the world's news. It cannot be denied that the papers are full of pessimism, or that the items of interest which have real interest for us are so many states of strife and distress. A paper which should print only the pleas- ant things about human life would soon fail. We do not care to know that nations are living happily, 197 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY but prefer to hear of war and rumors of other wars. We are not interested in the fact that couples are liv- ing happily together, but prefer to learn of matri- monial distress and the possible divorce. We read with pessimistic eyes. The psychological effect upon a brain which can fill itself with the ills and quarrels of the world is still to be calculated. Our forefathers had to be satisfied with the gossip of the community; we may satiate ourselves with the planetary troubles of all mankind. Our brains may still be shut in by their narrow skulls, but they have wires which extend along all lines of latitude and longitude. We listen in and look in upon all the doings and sufferings of all our brethren. From all this publicity of life there arise certain responsibilities. One must have the will to receive all that goes on in his day, for which he must exercise a certain king of mental sympathy. At the same time, one must exercise the power to react upon the news of the day, and feel that his own will is involved in the complete doings of the world. Each separate person is made to feel that each is responsible to and for all men. The newspaper with its news is the creator of sym- pathy. It assembles all men under one roof and feeds all at the same table. It makes one feel that private life is public and public life private. If you can respond to the news of your paper, you have a heart which is alive. 198 c THE SENTIMENTAL VICTORY THE use of the term "sentimental" is likely to call forth suspicion in most quarters, but psychology- is as ready to accept sentiment as is physical science to approve of matter. Sentiment is a simple matter of experience; the sway of sentiment is just what one should expect of human nature. Without attempting any verbal definition of senti- ment, one may understand that the experience is one marked by feelings and ideas. In an emotional way however tranquil, one dwells upon some fond idea; say, home, native land, another person. The simple idea is colored and embroidered by the feelings which permeate it. The victoriousness of sentiment is due to senti- ment's make-up, to the idea-element within it. In contrast with passions like hatred or anger, sentiment may appear as weak as water, but like water it may wear the rock away. In the conflict between senti- ment and passion, we have a weak but enduring emo- tion on one side, a strong but temporary emotion on the other. Which will win? We are always saying that races and battles are not to the swift and strong, so here we may say that the 199 SHORT TALKS ON PSYCHOLOGY ultimate victory is not to be on the side of strong pas- sion, on the side of hatred or anger. It is the fate of these over-strong emotions to surcharge the wire and bum the fuse out. Meanwhile sentiment keeps asserting its tranquil sway within the mind. At the present time, when we have seen passion show itself in war, re-appear in revolution and general disorder, we may have the feeling that the end of all civilization is in sight, but the situation within all the minds concerned is an affair of passion-sentiment. Because sentiment is durable and intelligent it cannot fail to achieve its own victory. Even if one be inclined to discredit the sway of moral, political, and religious influences, he has no right to doubt the authenticity of man's psychological nature, in which there is an arrangement as old as man, whereby the tranquilizing principles of mind must triumph over the strong but disorganizing ones. Nature arranges its forms of matter in symmetrical ways, tends ever to synthesize, keeps in mind as it were the welfare of the total mass, in this case the human species. Nature does this by emphasizing social sentiment within the mind of man. Just when disorder will cease and anarchism of all kinds bum out no one can say, but the ultimate vic- tory will be on the side of sentiment, the triumph of tranquility. THE END 200