Norbert F. Čapek
K slunnému břehu
Průvodce do radostného života
To the Sunny Shore
A Guide to Living Joyfully
Nakladatel Edv. Fastr, Praha (1939)
A first-draft translation by Andrew James Brown, Cambridge, December 2024, with corrections made by Andrew James Brown and Ruth Wieneger between August and November 2025
CONTENTS
1 — About the Appropriate Attitude
3 — Threshold of Consciousness
5 — Hidden Desires and Passions
6 — Symbols of Inner Struggles
7 — The Art of Calming Oneself
9 — The Influence of Breathing on Mood
16 — Relationships with People and Mood
Although the previous edition, judging from many letters of thanks, was well received and the second edition has long been sold out, I could not bring myself to prepare a new one until I had reworked the entire book and organised it better. That this has now happened is due not only to my efforts but also to those of the publisher. Regarding content, several new chapters have been added, and important changes have been made to sections that were retained. The order has been revised to highlight the continuity of the whole. Following the general introduction, the first chapters discuss in a more detailed and unified way what one needs to know about the inner life, especially the subconscious. These are little-known matters, yet they are vital for readers if they are better to understand the mysterious depths of their inner self, and approach the mastery of their moods with greater self-confidence. Most chapters are devoted to emotions and their related aspects, as it is mainly from these that all our moods, joyful and undesirable, grow. I have tried to write in a vivid style and have included ample examples and illustrations from life, so even the most challenging parts may be read with lively interest and understanding.
From the preface to the second edition, I’d like to share the following: The purpose of the book is practical. Just as food serves to nourish the hungry, this book on mood is meant to shape mood. What good is mere knowledge of mood! Reading the book and setting it aside is as pointless as reading and setting aside a menu. My book on mood is a form of mental nourishment—a way for us to create and savour and absorb together thoughts on mood, giving us strength. Thoughts are like rays of sunshine. We read one chapter here, another there, and let ourselves be mentally sunlit. Not everything is for everyone, but each person will find something special for themselves. They will mark these pages and revisit them often to soak up their warmth.
I worked on this edition during a particularly difficult time for the Czech nation. May it be a remedy for many and balm for wounded hearts! May it be sunshine that brightens and lightens the lives of many! May it serve Czech people, as this was its sole intention!
Dr. Norbert F. Čapek
Mood can be controlled. – Three types of people. – The most famous black man. – Dual attitude. – Epictetus. – Moods of the rich and the poor. – Sensitivity to offence. – Laughter. – Child and adult. – A professor’s bee in his bonnet – People’s whims. – Changeable individuals. – The heroic doctor. – If you encounter failure. – The lion who thought he was a sheep.
Emerson wrote: “I would like to forbid all people from having a bad mood. Even if you haven't slept well or have a headache, no matter what befalls you, I implore you, by all that is sacred to you, stay calm and don’t spoil the beautiful morning for yourself or others! Try to forget yourself and look up to the azure sky and greet the day being born!”
A person’s contentment, happiness, good mood, inner peace, and harmony belong to the realm of emotions. Approximately 90% of all human activity is controlled by emotion. Emotions are like water, which are capable of causing floods or driving mills. They can be cold or hot. They can be sweetened, salted, or poisoned. They can quench thirst. A person can wash in them or drown in them. If someone doesn’t know how to swim and finds themselves in water, the water becomes their master. But a good swimmer can swim on the water, under the water, on their back, on their side, stay in the water for a whole day if needed, and remain the master of the water.
Just as people in ancient times didn’t know that fire and water could be harnessed, that these two elements could be combined to power the largest machines, so also many today don’t know that emotions can be controlled and directed, and mood can be chosen and deliberately created.
Just as a tree grows from the soil, a good or bad mood grows from the emotions. Emotions, and thus moods, can be cultivated, allowing us to graft joy onto the wild branches of undesirable moods.
What’s important is how we choose to walk through life; whether with humour and good cheer, or with irritable whining?
From an emotional perspective, we can distinguish three types of people. There are those who are affected by everything. They know how to savour each feeling fully. If they have sorrow, they immerse themselves in it completely and for a long time, and have a hard time letting it go. If they have a worry, they grasp it tightly and feed it thoughts from all sides, so it lives on and does not go away.
On the other hand, there are those who look at everything with indifference. Everything happening around them feels like a madhouse or a comedy. Even if they change something today, tomorrow it will be different again, so why bother?
Such people help no one and harm many. They boast of their philosophy, claiming it is clever, but in reality, it is nothing but laziness, apathy, decline, weakness, disdain for human dignity, denying the divine spark in people.
The third type consists of people who adopt the attitude we recommend. They are not heartless, nor do they adopt the indifference of a spectator who looks at the world with contempt. Their emotions are like a controlled fire that serves their needs and makes life more pleasant.
There was a time when people thought that a person was born either a master or a slave, and that whoever was born a slave must remain one for life. Thus, today many remain slaves to their moods, even though they could strive towards mastery over them.
Life, rather than mere existence, and joy in life lie on the path to mastery. This path leads from reliance on others’ opinions to independent thought, from moods that impose themselves, to the conscious creation and control of one’s chosen mood.
Then this person neither needs to take time nor has the inclination to analyse, dwell on, or whine over any kind of sorrow. Instead, they might use it to comfort someone who is even sadder, or store it on ice if it is absolutely necessary to keep it , and then turn their mind towards the beneficial, valuable work of a significant, successful life.
Imagine someone finding themselves in a difficult situation. They have a choice: either they will say to themselves that they are not up to it, sit in a corner, and think about how to justify their cowardice to themselves, or they will look at the matter more clearly and from all sides to see if there might still be something that can be done. Then they will say to themselves: “Others have done it; why not me? Even if I fail, at least I have measured my strength against something truly significant.”
The will-to-good-mood and a determined attitude towards life saves a person from many unpleasant experiences. Let us take inspiration from the example of the great educator and social worker Booker T. Washington. He proved that a black man, through education and a high level of accomplishment, can equal any white man. He was the most educated of American black people and a source of pride for black people around the world. Beyond this, he held the right attitude towards life, as demonstrated by the following event: One day, he was wandering through the streets of a city where black people were looked down upon to such an extent that no white person would sit next to a black person anywhere. A glance at his watch reminded him that it was almost time for his train and that he could not reach it on foot in time. He approached the nearest white chauffeur and asked him to take him to the station. The chauffeur winced, saying that he had never driven a black person and never would. What would someone else have done in such a situation? How many bitter cups would they have had to drink? But this was Booker T. Washington. With his characteristic wit, he said to the white chauffeur: “All right, my friend, there need not be any misunderstanding between us. Sit in the back as a passenger, and I will take the wheel and drive you!” And that’s exactly what happened. Booker T. Washington, in good spirits, caught his train, and the white chauffeur was paid for having been driven by the most famous black man in America.
For every situation, it is possible to take one of two attitudes: an angry and upset one, or the attitude of a smiling philosopher. I recall a friend who was walking along the pavement when a passing car splashed mud on his clothes and face. He said to himself: “This is annoying, but what can I do? In a while, it will dry, I’ll brush it off, and my nerves will settle.” Behind him was another man who was not even hit by the mud, but he was fuming with rage at the thoughtlessness of the driver.
When we observe certain people, we get the impression that being angry or troubled is part of their daily needs. It’s as if they had written on their foreheads: “There is no life with a good mood, and if there is life, then it must be filled with trouble.”
Let us strive to remain calm in all circumstances, even if we cannot achieve the perfection of Epictetus, the famous philosopher of ancient Greece. When his master broke Epictetus’ leg, Epictetus calmly said to him: “Didn’t I tell you that you’d break my leg?” To this, Masaryk adds: “A person can train themselves to maintain a kind of sovereign calm or at least to not showing agitation in their facial expressions or movements. By nature, I am not a calm person, but I soon accustomed myself to calmness in dealing with others.”
It is strange that a bad mood can also be found among people who have everything they need, and a good mood among those living in poverty. A very wealthy woman once said: “When I think through all my acquaintances, none of them was happy. The only truly happy person I ever knew was our housekeeper. She had a hard life. From the age of 13, she had to rely on herself, a widow with four children. She looked at everything with optimism. She often laughed, liked everyone, and was always willing to help.”
Some people seem to take everything as if it were received “from the hands of fate.” They argue over trivialities and formalities, things that, within a week, would seem ridiculous to them . They can blow a light-hearted comment completely out of proportion and turn a mere sideways glance into a full-blown tragedy.
A chronic sensitivity to offence ruins the mood for many people. It is necessary to develop a sense of magnanimity so that one is not easily offended and can occasionally laugh at oneself. It’s not necessary to take things lightly and laugh at everything, but it is also true, as Thomas Carlyle said: “A person who has laughed, even just once in their life, cannot be irredeemably bad. What a difference laughter can make! It is the key that opens the door to the soul of another person.” Carlyle also said: “A person who cannot laugh is not only capable of falsehood and deceit, but it can be said that their entire life has been one great lie and deception.”
It is a good rule, then, to tune oneself more often into the humourous and to take with humour those things that are unnecessarily taken with deadly seriousness.
When a child is in a bad mood and crying, people shake a rattle in front of them; if that doesn’t help, they give it a dummy. And if even that doesn’t work, they find a teddy bear or call for daddy who starts whistling, and in the end, mummy slaps the child. But what can be done with an adult? A rattle wouldn’t help, nor would whistling. A truly mature person should say to themselves: “Oh, it’ll pass!” And then they move on.
It is possible to look at nature and be upset that it’s raining or not raining, freezing or thawing. It is possible to listen to music and either enjoy it or get angry that it’s too modern or too old, too sad or too cheerful. One can go through life without finding anything that doesn’t provoke anger, sadness, or at least disdain. But with another attitude towards life , we can see and hear many things that inspire joy.
It is like the human body. If it is healthy, it transforms every kind of food into something beneficial. What serves it is turned into blood; what doesn’t, it easily disposes of. It’s different with a sick body. In cases of dropsy, excess water accumulates. In diabetes, everything is turned into sugar that should have been transformed into healthy blood. It is the same with moods. If a person adopts a pessimist’s stance, their black glasses make them see the entire world as dark. An optimist, on the other hand, sees even mud in a rosy light. When my grandmother lost her teeth, she was pleased that her gums were hardening and that she could still chew crusts if she soaked them in coffee. Back then, not much was known about dentures. I knew an old woman who was upset because her third set of teeth wasn’t growing in. In one businessman’s family, they were distressed because, over the last year, they had only managed to save about 150,000 crowns instead of the quarter-million they had expected.
There are two distinct ways in which a person can seek a good mood and avoid a bad one. These are principles that apply in other areas as well.
Someone feels tired in their body and thinks that they should move less. The less they move, the less desire they have for movement. If they carry something heavy in their hand, their hand hurts. They tell themselves: “I’ll only carry lighter things from now on.” In the end, even a walking stick feels heavy in their hand. However, those who can easily manage a heavy burden are usually the ones who have gradually trained themselves to carry increasingly heavier loads.
Similarly, someone may try to ensure a good mood by avoiding anything that might upset them. That’s how one old professor lived. He couldn’t stand his wife, with whom he had lived for many years, so they lived apart. He couldn’t stand the noise of children, so he only looked at his grandchildren in photographs. He couldn’t tolerate a fly buzzing around the room and would get very upset if one appeared. One day, there was quite a commotion; I was there as a student. The professor claimed that there was some kind of insect in his room—something was crawling and buzzing. First, one person searched, then two, and finally there were five of us, but we found nothing. The insect existed only in the professor’s imagination.
It’s a mistake to fear a bad mood. A little sadness, a bit of trouble and worry, does no harm. Only someone who has been hungry can appreciate a good meal; only someone who has been tired praises rest and sleep. A little sadness and worry cast a good mood in a better light.
A bad mood always indicates a certain inner tension. A person senses this instinctively and tries to get rid of it. Some turn to photography, others fish or catch butterflies; one Count collected fleas, and a well-known Archduke had a museum dedicated to Saint Florian’s pictures
There are thousands of ways in which a person can release tension, as long as they think of it straight away. If someone is angry, they can chop wood, carry coal, or lift something heavy. If someone is afraid, they may recall how in a dream they were also afraid, to the point of sweating, and in the morning, they were happy that it was just a dream. Whatever it is, it too will one day be no more than a dream. The most natural and effective way to rid oneself of tension is, of course, through relaxation.
Some people care about their general health above all else, while others are less concerned about physical health as long as they are inwardly happy. We want both, and both are based on the same foundations. If the body is to be healed, it must not be poisoned from the outside. It is like this with moods. If someone is troubled, it is usually caused by distressing impressions from outside to which they have surrendered. Just as we live in an atmosphere of radio waves, we also live in an atmosphere of human thoughts and moods. The brain is an antenna and a receiver. A person who is angry has tuned their mental antenna to the wavelength of anger.
Let us not forget that it is within our power to create, change, and improve the mental atmosphere. Some people live only in the mental atmosphere of others and do not create their own. They are good, bad, sad, or cheerful depending on what is happening around them.
In difficult times, we come to understand just how many people are independent and just how many are dependent on the moods of others. When the situation changes, people are surprised by how their neighbours seem to have changed. But they haven’t changed—it’s their surroundings that have changed, and they remain as they were: “Where the wind blows, there goes the cloak.”
To create one’s own independent atmosphere, faith, clarity, decisiveness, and strong will are necessary. In this way, a mental bulwark is built, and we allow into the castle of our heart only those we choose.
Here, it is fitting for me to mention the story and attitude of the physician G. Peabody, as told by my friend and his, Dr. Lathrop. Peabody was an exceptional, outstanding doctor. He made several groundbreaking discoveries. He had a happy marriage and two delightful young sons. At the age of 46, he became the victim of a terrible disease, which he had been studying for the benefit of humanity in an effort to overcome it. He himself became infected. He gradually lost his vitality, yet he continued to study the progression of the disease in himself, lectured to students, worked in his laboratory, and wrote. When he could no longer work in the laboratory, he wrote from his bed, every day, until the day of his death. Here was the determination to master the burden of life. Friends came and were greatly surprised at how he bore his tragedy and how he used it for the benefit of humanity. He told them: “A little illness, wisely used, can bring great joy.” He called the last year of his life one of his happiest.
Of course, the greatest factor and also the greatest gain was the kind of spiritual life he
attained during his illness. Instead of complaining about a cruel universe that destroyed his efforts at the very time when he was serving humanity at the height of his powers, he wrote: “There are realms of the human spirit where the physical world does not reach. In its longing for God, the soul grows and finds the fulfilment of its highest and innermost desires.”
Dr. Lathrop commented on this: “Perhaps I could say that the highest thing in this is to make the best of that given to you by fate. It is better to accept it than to oppose it. But there is much more to it than this. If you can rise to the understanding that you and God are relatives and that your deepest vocation here is to express what is truly divine within you, then you have truly fulfilled your purpose.” Then, whether it is joy or suffering, everything becomes invaluable material for further growth. The tragedy in the life of this young man became an opportunity for the expression of the greatest nobility within him.
Religious understanding awakens in us the ability to look beyond this earthly life and its contradictions. Faith in a further life greatly helps to overcome, transform, and reshape even the most terrifying misfortunes.
One of the best means for controlling mood is to delve deeply into oneself as often as possible. Quiet yourself within. Don’t know what to do next? Are you uncertain? Sit down, quiet yourself, stop the frantic search, attune your mind to a desired wavelength, and look towards the mountains you wish to climb! Feeling down? Turn your thoughts away from everything outside, everything beyond you, for outside are all the causes of your despondency! Have you encountered failure? Start again!
Každý den je nové začínání,
každým jitrem den se rodí zas;
přes zármutek všechen, přes zklamání,
přes záhady, které matou nás,
vzmuž se s novým dnem a začni zas!
Each day is a new beginning,
Every morning, the day is born anew;
Despite all sorrow, despite all disappointment,
Despite mysteries that confuse us,
Take courage with the new day and begin again!
In the vast realm of our soul, there is so much wealth and strength that it cannot be used in a lifetime. People imagine God to be poor and distant. People pray: “Lord God, give me this, give me that!” How can the “Lord God” (Pán Bůh) give to them when they leave unused what He has already given them? Let us abandon a beggar’s mindset and complaints, and instead test the powers with which our soul abounds!
To confess we are human and to believe in humanity it is not to go against the “Lord God” . People imagine God to be so small, weak, and distant only because they have not discovered themselves. However, the more we recognise the power and wealth of our own soul, the better we understand God’s greatness, and the more easily we can maintain a good mood.
We walk around feeling weak, miserable, and joyless, where we could, with humour and good spirits, carve out new paths to happiness. Some people are like young lions raised among sheep. When they grow up, they believe they are sheep, moving weakly and powerlessly with the flock. But one day, for the first time, they hear the mighty roar of an older lion in the forest, and their hidden nature suddenly awakens with strength. They respond with the roar of a lion. From that moment, they know they are not sheep, but lions. In this way, we come to understand the appropriate attitude towards life.
Comenius’ advice. – How humanity has been discovering and shaping itself for thousands of years. – The discovery of hidden intelligence and its activity within the human body. – The life of cells, glands, the autonomic nervous system, and their influence on mood. – How the subconscious was discovered. – Examples of mastered subconscious. – A summary of findings about the subconscious.
Comenius taught that “it is necessary for a person first and foremost to know themselves, to govern themselves, and to draw benefit from themselves.” He also said, “One finds oneself best within oneself, nowhere else, for then one also easily finds God and everything within oneself.”
If a person succeeds in looking more deeply into their own inner being and discovers at least part of the immense powers of their spirit, they become more capable of drawing benefit from themselves.
In the realm of our being, where we normally do not reach with our reason and will, we discover an intelligence that possesses perfect knowledge of all sciences (chemistry, biology, psychology, mechanics, etc.)—a knowledge to which no human being has consciously attained so far.
It gives the impression that, on a cosmic scale, something happened to humanity similar to what a certain town mayor experienced years ago. He was respected, wealthy, and highly educated. While travelling somewhere, he lost consciousness and all memory of who he was and what he was. He disappeared from his family and his hometown, and in the place where this happened, he became a stranger both to himself and to everyone around him.
He had to start everything from scratch. He only knew what he had learned from the time the change happened to him. Although he had a university education, he couldn’t read. He was a skilled technician, but now he didn’t understand technology. Instead, he worked as a menial labourer. After four years, under extraordinary circumstances, his memory returned, and he resumed his previous position within his family, his town, and among his acquaintances.
We are drawn to consider that phase when he was unaware of himself, when all his bodily functions worked normally, but the mental content of his previous life was entirely unknown to him. At birth, we are like this man who forgot his past and his identity. We naturally possess immense intelligence with extensive knowledge, yet we consciously begin “with nothing.”
To describe everything that humanity has discovered about itself so far would require many large volumes. Humanity will continue to invent ways to control natural forces and matter, even though its subconscious intelligence has been doing this long before.
Let us consider at least some of these matters. When humanity, with great acclaim, invented the photographic lens and camera, it was only a tiny fragment of the knowledge once used in developing eyesight. Long before inventing the telephone and radio receivers, everything was much more perfectly designed within the human body itself, as the entire body is interwoven with the most ingenious system of telegraphy, telephony, and radio. Through ultra-fine connections, countless messages constantly travel to and fro, from the brain to all parts of the body.
Men might have developed the ability to run as fast as an antelope, fly like a bird, or swim underwater like a fish, but that would have been impractical. Instead, they invented machines. These extend their bodies. They can use them and put them aside. Humanity created ships, aeroplanes, submarines, devices for seeing across great distances—and we do not know what else they will create.
I was informed by a Czech builder about how the human skeleton is an extraordinarily perfect, light, purposeful, and highly efficient structure and mechanism that also repairs and maintains itself. Alongside countless extraordinarily ingenious mechanisms, the human spirit has created a “central repair station”, where the necessary parts for renewing the body are delivered and dispatched. It has created a complex sewage system that removes harmful substances from the body, a combustion system akin to a type of crematorium, and, in general, everything necessary for maintaining the body.
What immense intelligence is revealed further in the circulatory system and how it all connects to moods! For example, if someone is in a bad mood and has the necessary instruments, they could measure how the volume of their limbs, particularly the shoulders, decreases, while the volume of their abdomen increases. A similar redistribution of blood to the intestines has been observed in people experiencing fear before surgery. It has been established that during moments of anxiety and fear, blood shifts not only from the surface of the body to the internal organs but also from the brain. This is why, during a sudden fright, a person faints and ceases to feel pain. In a bad mood, blood congestion in the internal organs occurs, and if this happens repeatedly, pathological conditions develop. In a good mood, blood moves from the internal organs to the surface, increasing the volume of the shoulders and causing a quicker pulse. This is why, when someone complains that they are often afraid, I ask if they regularly have cold feet. They usually respond that not only their feet, but also their hands are cold.
It is remarkable how the body’s organs succumb to habits. What they have been doing for an extended period, they wish to continue doing indefinitely. When someone’s bad moods have caused a pathological condition, the body tries to maintain it, creating a predisposition to bad moods. A bad mood causes further blood congestion in certain organs and insufficient blood flow in others, resulting in irregular blood circulation, so that one part of the body feels cold while another feels hot and sweats. This irregularity further supports bad moods, creating a vicious cycle.
The great yet hidden intelligence of the human spirit is also evident in how perfectly it can process, break down, and decompose food, transforming it into something completely different (e. g. flour into blood) while distributing everything proportionally and supplying different organs with the components they need. The spirit takes all the material it receives, subdues it, animates it, and breathes its life and intelligence into every cell of the body.
Within a single body, the human spirit animates and governs more cells than there are people in the world. Each cell is a complete organism. It takes in nourishment, has its own digestion, excretion, and reproduction, and as the famous physiologist Virchow stated, it also has its own “little soul” and an extraordinary ability to adapt to its surroundings, both in form and function.
We might say that every cell, in miniature, represents the entire body, and perhaps even the human being represents the entire universe (a microcosm within the macrocosm).
Cells perform the most diverse duties in the body, both individually and in groups. Some of them create reserves, while others produce fluids required by various parts of the body. Some have fixed stations, while others are in constant motion. Some work as messengers, others as cleaners, and still others resemble the police or the army. There are cells that, in cases of injury or when poisonous microbes invade the blood, rush to sacrifice their lives to save the body.
The nerve cells carry messages from parts of the brain and back again. Red blood cells are the body’s common messengers, floating in the arteries and veins, picking up oxygen from the lungs and carrying it to various tissues of the body to revive and strengthen them. On the return journey through the veins, they transport waste from the body, like trading ships carrying one cargo on the way out and another on the way back. Other cells force their way through the walls of arteries, veins, and tissues to take the shortest route to places where repairs are needed.
At every moment, some cells are being born, while others are dying. Every part of the body is constantly changing, and its tissue is being renewed. Skin, bones, hair, and muscles are continually being repaired or rebuilt. If the body is injured, the wound bleeds and hurts. The nerves report this to the brain’s central command and urgently call for help. The subconscious intelligence immediately summons workers, who rush to the site of the pain. Meanwhile, blood flows from the wound, washing away foreign substances that entered the body and could cause poisoning. On contact with air, the blood coagulates and forms a patch. Millions of blood cells hurry to repair the damage and reconnect the disrupted tissue. Cells on both sides of the wound begin multiplying into millions and move from all directions to meet in the centre of the wound. It may appear chaotic, but in a short time, it becomes evident that everything was directed towards a specific goal. Once the necessary internal work is complete, the blood vessels, nerves, and tissue fully repaired, the skin cells begin finishing the magnificent task, creating new skin, and soon it is impossible to tell where the wound had been.
Let us also note the activity of the endocrine glands (glands with internal secretion) and the autonomic nervous system. These glands are tiny corpuscles. As recently as the last century, scholars believed they were useless in the body. However, their influence is unbelievably great. The thyroid gland, for example, produces a tiny amount of a chemical substance called thyroxine. If the body receives too little thyroxine, hair falls out, the skin dries and hardens, the entire body weakens, and the mind dulls. However, if there is even slightly more thyroxine than normal, a person becomes irritable, nervous, fearful, has difficulty breathing, an increased appetite, yet remains undernourished.
Similarly, other glands also have a tremendous impact on the body. A variety of mental and physical states are caused by them. It is especially remarkable that these glands can be noticeably influenced by mental changes. Every deep emotion affects one of them. In other words, the chemistry of the entire body can be altered fundamentally by various mental states.
Just as these glands affect mood, so too does mood affect them. Therefore, some argue that moods arise solely from physical states, while others believe they stem entirely from mental causes. The truth is that mental states influence the body, and likewise, the body influences mental life. Additionally, both physical and mental (psychic) states can be influenced by the spirit.
As with the glands, the autonomic nervous system also has a significant impact on the body’s health and mood. It controls the body’s internal organs—heart, intestines, and so on—and regulates muscles that are not under our voluntary control. When we want to raise an arm or cross a room, this decision is made by our will. In such a case, the brain signals the nerves and muscles of the arm and legs to carry out our intention. Nothing similar occurs with the autonomic nervous system. It does not act on impulses of our will, and if we attempt to focus on it clumsily, we can disrupt its activity.
The autonomic nervous system is extremely sensitive to mental states. Fear, agitation, and sadness have an extremely adverse effect on its functioning. Intense mental states, such as great fear or sudden anger, can even stop its activity altogether. In psychological laboratories, it has been experimentally demonstrated that strong emotions can halt digestion, which is governed by the autonomic nervous system.
Let us remember that it is not only the endocrine glands and the autonomic nervous system, but the entire body, with all its parts and functions, that is influenced by mental states.
Just as we distinguish between two nervous systems, we similarly differentiate between two aspects of the soul, to the extent that it gives the impression of two distinct mental agents. In reality, these are simply two poles of the same spirit: the conscious pole and the subconscious pole.
Broadly speaking, the conscious pole encompasses rational activity, will and decision-making, control of the hands, legs, and various other bodily organs. Muscles controlled by the conscious pole differ in colour and shape from those governed by the subconscious pole. This subconscious pole influences the internal organs, such as the complex processes involved in digestion, the functioning of the heart, breathing, the activities of the liver, kidneys, intestines, and so on.
We refer to all the activities of the subconscious pole of the soul simply as the subconscious. Let us recall what led psychologists to recognise the existence of the subconscious.
First: forgetting. Where has what we have forgotten gone, and where does it come from when we remember it again?
Second: all internal bodily processes, such as breathing, heartbeat, and so on, continue while we sleep or are unconscious. Sometimes people even solve difficult problems in their sleep and realise this upon waking.
Third: during a fever, people recount things of which they are unaware in their normal state of consciousness. A well-known case involves a girl who, while unconscious in hospital, recited long passages in Hebrew and Greek. When she recovered, she could not recall a single word in either language. It was discovered that she had worked for a clergyman who read aloud from these languages every morning for half an hour. His voice reached the kitchen where the girl worked. There was no trace of conscious learning or memory of these languages. In her fever, when her ordinary consciousness was suppressed and inactive, her subconscious released content it had absorbed unknowingly.
Fourth: similar cases are known among hypnotised individuals who, in a deep trance, speak of things they have no awareness of when conscious. Often, after waking, they refuse to believe what they said.
Fifth: another fact is post-hypnotic suggestion. A hypnotised person is told that an hour after waking from hypnosis, they will place a chair on a table. After waking, they have no memory of the instruction, yet an hour later, they will go and place the chair on the table.
Sixth: further evidence can be seen in the behaviour of people who have been put to sleep with chloroform or similar methods.
Based on these experiences, psychologists concluded that alongside ordinary consciousness, whose content is known to the individual, there exists a subconscious realm, whose content is unknown. And it is precisely this unknown content that often has significant importance for a person’s health and mood.
To summarise briefly and comprehensively, the subconscious domain includes the control centre for the autonomic nervous system and everything associated with the functioning of the heart, kidneys, liver, breathing, digestion, and so on. Additionally, everything we have ever forgotten is stored in our subconscious. We can take in new information because the subconscious stores what we do not currently need. There, like in an archive, everything remains until it is recalled by some suitable method.
In our subconscious are also events we wished to forget, either because they troubled us or because they were unpleasant. We do not want to remember them, and so through gradual suppression, they pass from consciousness into the subconscious.
In our subconscious, there may also be impressions of experiences that never entered our conscious awareness, as evidenced by the following fact: People who have been in accidents, such as car collisions, remember everything that happened to them before the accident, but they have no idea what occurred during the time they were unconscious. No matter how hard they try, they cannot recall it. However, if they are placed under hypnosis, it is possible to retrieve from their subconscious all the details of what happened to them and around them while they were unconscious.
Finally, the subconscious is a repository of biological memory. We carry within us the memory of all the generations with whom we are physically connected. This memory relates to the evolutionary journey that a particular lineage has undergone. For instance, in some lineages, people are tall or short, light-skinned or dark-skinned, have broad or narrow faces, and so on. If a lineage has been shaped over time by a specific culture, the traits of that culture are evident in their physical appearance. This is biological memory. (At this point, I set aside pure psychological memory, which pertains to the mental development that occurs before birth.)
What does this description of the subconscious realm of our soul reveal? Above all, that men contain within themselves an immensely rich and complex world; that we are aware of only a tiny part of ourselves; and that the combined understanding of all scholars over thousands of years has uncovered only a small fraction of what occurs in the human mind and body.
Something magnificent and supremely intelligent is happening with us. Our reason and will generally do not contribute to it, and yet it is we who perform it—no one else. However, when we say “we,” it refers to a much broader domain than what we typically consider ourselves to be—it is vastly more than what we consciously do.
If we knew ourselves better, and the vast realm of our intelligence, which is connected with the intelligence of the universe working throughout nature, how beautiful, agile, youthful, and healthy our bodies would remain, even into old age!
We could speak of the strange division within the human spirit, which is evident in the fact that our consciousness knows so little of the many things happening within us and to us, and learns only laboriously and imperfectly about what occurs in the realm of the subconscious.
Personal consciousness is simply a function, and the most recent achievement, of the human spirit. Humanity has been so dazzled by this new gift that it saw and recognised nothing else for a long time. And when it began to make discoveries, it did not realise it was simply discovering itself.
This breadth of our spirit’s intelligence led to the assumption that it was the direct intervention of God Himself and not of our own doing. This is contradicted by the fact that this subconscious intelligence can be misled by errors in our reasoning and will, especially through the power of suggestion.
Among many examples, we will simply mention one instance of this confusion. The renowned doctor and scholar Carl [Ludwig] Schleich, a student of the famous physiologist Virchow, recounts the following: A very wealthy businessman, who personally managed his own office, came to me one day, pleading desperately for me to amputate his entire hand. He said he had pricked his finger with a pen and was certain he would die of blood poisoning. I would have laughed if the fear-stricken expression on his face had not stifled all my mirth. He explained that he had already visited several leading surgeons, all of whom had refused to amputate his hand. He begged me to take pity on him and remove his arm at the shoulder, claiming that it was already throbbing and aching. I had no choice but to send him home with the kindest and most reassuring words I could muster.
That same evening, I visited him and found no signs of fever, swelling, or inflammation at the small wound, which I had thoroughly cleaned, drained, and dressed. Yet, he was highly agitated and exclaimed, “Why won’t you amputate my hand? I could still be saved.” The next morning, he was dead. My colleague, Dr. Langerhans, performed an autopsy. There was no infection, no blood poisoning, not even the slightest visible cause of death. My diagnosis: death from hysteria.
“How are we to explain these things?” asks Dr. Schleich. He goes on to elaborate using further examples, explaining in detail how an idea can manifest itself and the tremendous capability of the human spirit. Were it not for the examples that clearly demonstrate the extensive potential of the human spirit, and also its significant errors, we might think that these occurrences were the work of a deity outside ourselves.
I mention these errors of the human spirit only to emphasise even more its great and untapped potential. This is our portion of divinity, and it depends on us how rightly and abundantly we use this gift.
The subconscious realm of our spirit sometimes resembles an unguarded castle. If its owner does not care for it, it can easily become a playground for unwanted forces, or even a storage room for discarded things. However, there are ways to prevent this, to control one’s subconscious and consciously create one’s moods. In this way, a person becomes the true master of their innermost home, even under the most challenging circumstances. There are remarkable cases of the magnificent application of this principle. A certain professor returned from the war terribly broken and who now lives with a number of prosthetics, yet as a literary historian he inspires others with his learning and poetic inspiration.
There is a well-known Czech historian who nearly lost his sight. For ten years, he did not read any books; his wife read aloud to him. In addition, he fell ill with a spinal disease and was forced to lie motionless for many months. He even had to be fed. Yet, during these ten years of physical helplessness, he became a prominent artistic figure known throughout Europe, bearing his fate with remarkable composure; he worked, read, thought, and dictated.
The American, Helen Keller, lost her sight and hearing at an early age. People communicated with her through signals tapped onto her palm. However, she found an extraordinary teacher, Miss Sullivan, who devoted herself entirely to her and transformed this woman, living in perpetual darkness, into a person who could speak, understand languages, study, and even write. Helen married and, among other beautiful books, wrote one of particular value: “ Optimism.”
These champions of life can often serve as role models for those of us who are healthy. But I ask: must a person be cruelly afflicted with some physical disability in order to access untapped realms of the spirit and apply their abilities to a greater extent than is customary?
Summarising our current knowledge of the subconscious, we find:
1) Each of us possesses powers and intelligence akin to the might and wisdom of the Highest.
2) A person can either disrupt these abilities of their soul or use them to their benefit.
3) The better we understand these powers, the more capable we become of creating joyful moods and maintaining health, vitality, and flexibility well into old age.
Levels and causes of sensitivity. – The scope of unnoticed perceptions. – What is the mental threshold? – The possibility of lowering and raising it. – What sensitivity depends on. – Morbid states in seemingly healthy individuals. – Complexes from childhood. – The effects of buried experiences. – What a change in thinking has caused. – The guarded and unguarded threshold of consciousness and emotions.
Some people are as sensitive as the hairspring in a watch; at the slightest touch, every nerve in their body trembles. Others are so emotionally hardened that they will whistle their tune even while dynamite is blasting rocks apart.
Since sensitivity manifests in various forms, it is important to distinguish between unhealthy hypersensitivity to things that others ignore and healthy emotions.
Many people, however, believe their sensitivity is innate or that it is an illness from which they cannot escape unless someone discovers an epoch-making discovery of the most peculiar illness, which, starting with Saul, used to afflict only kings.
Sensitivity should not exceed certain limits if it is to be beneficial rather than harmful. We receive an enormous number of impressions from the world around us, and in the depths of our subconscious, so many things are happening that it is difficult to form a clear picture of it all.
It seems there are no limits to the impressions our subconscious can perceive, accept, and respond to without our awareness. On the other hand, our conscious mind can only handle a certain number of impressions; if this limit is exceeded, disturbances arise in the form of various kinds of nervousness and bad moods.
Just imagine what happens every five minutes as we walk down the street. Hundreds of images are constantly reflected on the retinas of our eyes. Our eyes see every line in the faces of passers-by, every detail of their clothing, ornaments on buildings, hanging signs, items displayed in windows, the paving of the street, tram-rails and vehicles, and dozens of other things. Our ears hear every sound within the range of audibility: every ring and horn, people’s voices, their footsteps, and the rustling of their clothes. The skin senses whether it is cold or warm, and the nose senses an abundance of various smells. A part of the subconscious feels the touch of the street’s pavement beneath the heels of our shoes, the touch of clothes on the body, the movement and position of the entire body, and I can barely recall the endless stream of messages and impressions from all the organs of the body and all psychological influences.
From these perceptions, only a tiny fraction captures our attention. What interests us and imposes itself on us is what, in the ordinary sense of the word, we see, hear, and perceive. Everything else sinks into the subconscious without arousing particular attention.
Few people realise that nothing happens in their entire body without them subconsciously knowing about it. The work of the subconscious is especially evident in a sleepwalker when they can walk across rooftops without their ordinary consciousness knowing about it; but they may then fall if that consciousness is suddenly awakened.
The subconscious intelligence must know how much light is entering the eyes so that it can constrict or dilate the pupils or, if necessary, signal the eyelids to close. It must know how much blood flows to the stomach, the head, or the legs. If the skin is irritated by cold from the outside, it sends more blood from within the body to the surface. If a hand is exerting itself, it sends more blood to the muscles of the hand. It must know how much oxygenated air is entering the lungs and whether toxins are being excreted and exhaled. Everything generally happens beneath the surface so that the conscious mind is not burdened.
We now come to a closer description of the threshold of consciousness, which is particularly important in this context. Fully understanding what the threshold of consciousness is, and how it can be lowered or raised, is one of the key principles of the art of living and mastery over moods.
In his work on the foundations of normal and abnormal psychology, Boris Sidis refers to the degree to which a cell is sensitive and reacts to certain stimuli as the threshold of irritation or the threshold of stimulation. Just as the wind must reach a certain strength to drive rain over a raised threshold into the house, similarly, a sensation must have sufficient intensity to overcome the barrier at the threshold of consciousness.
This mental threshold does not always have the same height. It is raised or lowered by a kind of mental automatism, which depends on the content of our consciousness and on the importance, we assign to certain matters. While we cannot control the rapidity and intensity of the stimulus, the interest we assign to something lies within the realm of free choice.
Everyone can choose which thoughts and physical stimuli they want to allow in or which they want to drive away from the threshold of consciousness. It is possible to raise the threshold of consciousness, to build a dam of indifference to certain excitations, to close the mental gates, and draw the curtains. Or the threshold of consciousness can be lowered to the point where even the slightest itch on the skin feels like being pricked by a pin.
There are thresholds of consciousness that change frequently and easily. If someone is hungry and finds food tasty, their threshold of consciousness is significantly lowered. However, if a person has eaten their fill, the food must be very appealing to attract their attention, as the threshold of consciousness at such a time is very high. A farmer is interested in farming, so anything related to their passion easily crosses the threshold of their consciousness. A fashionable lady has a very low threshold of consciousness for anything related to fashion. A profit-seeker latches onto anything that could bring some gain. Ambitious people are inclined to hear any praise about their good qualities. In other words, our character partly determines how something affects us; whether it interests us or not.
Anyone who has become accustomed to paying excessive attention to the processes within their body will inevitably begin to exaggerate their physical sensations to the point where a minor signal from the subconscious appears as an alarming symptom. Someone who has made a habit of focusing intently to detect every suspicious creak in their physical system will often be frightened by some noise or imagined danger.
If someone allows an entire stream of specific stimuli to overflow the threshold of their consciousness, they should not be surprised if they start to drown in bad moods. If, in addition, they consult several doctors, some less conscientious than is customary, they may end up like the lady to whom each doctor said something different, until she ultimately believed that she had sciatica, a heart defect, neurasthenia, vascular hardening, and that she might go insane.
Or they might find themselves in the position of a healthy, rosy-cheeked, and mentally agile gentleman in a highly responsible role, who assured me that he suffered from spinal cord atrophy, that something was wrong with his heart, that he was in danger of losing his mind, and most troublingly, that he was incapable of getting married. He believed all of this sincerely, and I am certain that if he had continued to believe it for another year, all these feared conditions would have manifested gradually through the power of autosuggestion.
It is clear that sensitivity is largely subject to our personal choices. We therefore ask: what determines this choice? The cause of hypersensitivity is often an abnormal craving for attention. A person feels deficient in some respect, which bothers them. Perhaps they suppress this dissatisfaction. As a result, various impulses arise to do something that attracts attention, even if the individual is not consciously seeking it. Even so, it may bring a certain kind of pleasure.
Another cause of hypersensitivity can be a complex from childhood, when a person became accustomed to receiving special attention. It can also stem from a feeling of not being sufficiently loved or noticed. Or, they may have wished to love someone deeply but found no understanding or reciprocity. As a result, they gradually lose interest in everything else around them, redirecting their attention and sensitivity to cultivating some kind of weakness that, by its very nature, attracts attention and necessitates special care-giving.
In this way, many people develop hypersensitivity to external stimuli, or they begin to experience pain, burning, or pricking sensations, whose roots lie hidden beneath the threshold of consciousness.
The way a certain sensitivity or hypersensitivity manifests itself is often random. It is usually based on physical discomfort that was coincidentally associated with something unrelated to it. For example, someone might feel unwell near an open window. Influenced by old superstitions and suggestions, they associate their discomfort with a draft and become increasingly afraid of drafts, to the point where they feel a pricking sensation simply upon noticing that a neighbour has an open window.
Someone else might feel unwell while eating. Their attention is drawn to a piece of food, and immediately a suggestion arises, causing nausea whenever they see that type of food. Some people, even from childhood, develop an aversion to certain foods that were made repulsive to them through suggestive associations with something unpleasant.
A certain young woman experienced her throat tightening and felt as though she were suffocating when singing in her middle register. The strangest thing, however, was that she sang the much more difficult lower and upper registers with ease and never experienced this unpleasant sensation. Through psychoanalytic investigation, it was found that she came from a family that did not understand her aspirations; when she began learning to sing, she was accompanied by reproaches from those at home, which caused great sorrow that tightened her throat. And because the same throat muscles that tighten during sorrow are active when singing in the middle register, these muscles began to tighten whenever she tried to sing in that range.
Many painful sensations are rooted in long-buried experiences. “Hysterical” individuals mostly suffer as a result of these memories.
Whatever it is that causes hypersensitivity, it is still a very unsatisfactory expression of the inner self. It does not make us happier or more important. Through a change in mindset and re-education, a person can find much better and more beautiful ways to express themselves.
There is no need to succumb to weaknesses, bad moods, and feelings that, for whatever reason, have attached themselves to our changeable “self” and lead it in its devil’s dance. There are enough examples of people who have freed themselves from hypersensitivity and suffering. What they could do, anyone can do, provided they resolve to overcome these things.
A girl who could only eat liquid food was so incapacitated that her two sisters, who worked outside the home, had to care for her like a small child. A simple change in her thinking caused her to eat a full diet, manage the household, and feel ashamed that she had previously let herself be so dependent on the service of others.
A certain doctor, while working on the eighth edition of one of his books, was in such a pitiful state that he wore two layers of woollen underwear for fear of catching cold. He kept cotton wool in his ears. He felt pain at the touch of clothing, as his skin was so sensitive all over his body. His neck muscles were so weak that he could not hold his head upright. He suffered from constant fatigue and constipation. When his mindset was changed, he rejuvenated by 20 years and laughed at his former ailments.
There are two kinds of people in the world: those who are enslaved by their emotions, and those who rule over them. Some leave the threshold of their consciousness unguarded and become prisoners in their own homes; others elevate their consciousness above everyday troubles and annoyances, and live in the radiant sunlight of a good mood.
The significance and influence of the “I” on mood. – It differs from consciousness and personality. – The boundary between consciousness and the subconscious. – The subconscious is a function of the soul. – Its overestimation and underestimation. – How it arose and what it consists of. – Mysteries of the soul. – Automatisms and complexes. – Conscious changing of the “I” – Creating new “I”s by one’s own choice. – The path to a fuller life.
The “I” is the centre of humanity’s joys and sorrows, struggles and worries, happiness and unhappiness. Some people indulge in drunkenness only because they feel stronger while doing so, because their “I” is elevated above ordinary feelings. Most family disputes often have their deepest roots in what each person thinks about themselves. In a similar fashion, disagreements arise in offices, workshops, societies, etc.
The human “I” is different from consciousness. The life of the soul manifests itself in various levels of consciousness: unconsciousness, shared-consciousness (souvědomí), the subconscious, and the superconscious. The awareness of our “I” was preceded by general consciousness, as we can observe in every child. At first, the child speaks of themselves in the third person—and only later does the first spark of awareness of their own “I” appear.
The human “I” is also something entirely distinct from personality. Personality encompasses everything a person is and lives for, whereas the “I” is simply one of the manifestations of personality.
Our “I” has its seat on the border between consciousness and the subconscious, as has been determined through anaesthesia and other methods. During slow anaesthesia conducted for such studies, the following process becomes apparent:
First, a person loses their sense of place, then of time, causality (causes and effects), recognition, hearing, sight, touch, then imagination. In the ninth stage, coherent thinking fades. Only in the tenth stage does a person lose the awareness of their “I.” After that, they enter the subconscious. A similar process can be observed in dying individuals. The activity of the heart ceases last.
Our “I” — and I emphasise this — is simply one of the functions of our soul, albeit a very important one. It is a temporary, earthly, mutable function — and I would say, in many respects, an illusory one.
If it seems that I somewhat undervalue or diminish the human “I,” let me stress that it is often overestimated, overvalued, idolised, treated as a deity, regarded as the alpha and omega, the beginning and end of man’s existence. Given this, I feel justified in pointing out that it occupies too large a space in men’s minds where it should not, and conversely too little where it should.
We do well occasionally to remind our “I” that it was not present when we were born, that it disappears during sleep, that it shrinks to nothing in hypnosis, that it is suppressed in sleepwalkers during their nocturnal wanderings, that it can be banished by anaesthesia — in short, that it is something physical, dependent on bodily states, with only temporary and limited tasks, and possessing only as much power and rights as we assign to it. We must learn to distinguish between the notion of our “I” and our innermost being, which is much higher and broader. Our innermost being has the power and the right to overthrow any “I” and establish a new “I” whenever it chooses.
The human “I” is primarily the result of social relationships and impressions that have linked us with the surrounding world. Our “I” is constantly being shaped, remodelled, and adapted. For many, even a mere change of clothing — whether civilian or uniform — can influence the colouring of their “I.” If someone is promoted, becomes wealthy, or receives an honorary title, it usually changes their “I” somewhat, and sometimes significantly.
There are people who have forged their “I” on the anvil of strict self-denial and purposeful self-discipline. This is their true “I,” and if you were to slice them apart, their “I” would not change for anyone else; and even if you offered them all the treasures of the world, nothing about that “I” would alter.
There are others — and they are not few — whose “I” is for sale. Some are not wholly for sale, but their “I” floats on the water like debris. They don’t know who or what they belong to. Some people’s “I” resembles an Egyptian mummy or a stone statue, so conservative are they!
It is interesting to observe how the human “I” is formed. If we compared it to a rag rug made of many pieces, we would find that one part is taken from the habits, ideas, and concepts of the parental home. Another part comes from friends, another from school, another from church, others from instincts, from profession, politics, nationality, race, status, what one has read, physical constitution, health, climate, surroundings, life experiences, etc.
The core of our “I” is usually formed by our greatest passion. If a person is miserly, then money and everything related to it dominate their mind, to the point that they increasingly identify themselves with money and measure their worth by the amount of wealth they accumulate. For others, it could be something else, such as sexual desire, vanity, domineering behaviour, or even some life ideal with which the person identifies.
From a biological perspective, it is possible to verify that not only does every cell in the body exhibit a degree of independence, but so too do various groups of cells. Glandular cells, for instance, seem to form their own state, which is placed in the service of the entire physical organism. Similar states exist for nerve cells, brain cells, muscle cells, blood cells, skeletal cells, and others. All these subordinate states within our body, all the billions of individual cells arranged in various groupings, have their central governance in the subconscious.
This brings us to the mysteries of the soul. According to certain laws, automatisms and complexes are formed in the subconscious, and each of these resembles a political party within the state, striving for dominance and to overthrow what we call the “I.”
Each such complex can transform into an “I” and present itself as a distinct personality. Typically, one complex prevails, specifically the one backed by the strongest experiences and instincts.
This does not preclude uprisings, coups, and revolutions. It happens that multiple complexes suddenly strengthen, causing a disturbance so that a person hears voices within themselves as though from different people. Sometimes the “I” is dethroned, and one of the suppressed complexes ascends the throne and even gives itself a special name. All this happens when a person does not know themselves, does not control their moods, and does not consciously transform their “I.” I consider the most significant and beneficial mental activity to be the conscious and deliberate creation, alteration, or even overthrow of our “I” and the establishment of a new and better one.
I experienced something similar three times in my life. At the age of eighteen, I underwent what is often called conversion or rebirth. That experience contained all the hallmarks of a conscious creation of a new “I,” except that each of those hallmarks had a name different to those used by modern psychology. Under the influence of lectures, conversations, and reading, the idea of that new “I” was first formed, while the old “I” was constantly being challenged. What could have also proceeded developmentally and gradually happened, at least in my consciousness, all at once. I kept waiting for something extraordinary to happen, some miracle, and for that moment when I would shed the old person and put on the new. And that is precisely what happened. In my consciousness, I severed myself from the old notion of myself and identified with the new one, which had been previously formed. I felt a profound sense of excitement, joy, and everything else I had imagined I would experience—everything I had heard others describe. All the condensed and accumulated suggestions suddenly became effective—of course, more so in my consciousness, as the actual formation of character requires time and effort. Many “converted” individuals do not realise this, and therefore their results are unsuccessful. Just as, under the influence of suggestion, a person can imagine himself worse than he really is, so in his rebirth he may think himself better, and therefore the gap between the old and the new “I” appears far greater than it actually is.
The second time was when I was 35 years old. It was a psychologically highly interesting experience. At that time, I called it the “baptism by the Holy Spirit.” I spent an entire week under the influence of the strongest religious suggestions imaginable. There was fasting and nights spent in prayer among many serious men who shared the same outlook and expectations. The state I had long desired, for which I had undertaken a journey to England to the so-called Keswick Revival meetings, finally arrived, and I lived for about five weeks as if in ecstasy.
For the third time, I experienced it as a Unitarian; it was before I dared to return to my homeland and embark on the work I now carry out . What distinguished this experience from the earlier ones was that it was grounded in my knowledge and psychological experience; it was no longer a transient state about which I had to worry; and finally, the positive values [I gained] were not only multiplied but also expanded to include the ability to act as a healing influence on the mental states of others. Additionally, there arose a greater capacity for creative work. In short, through better understanding and mastering the depths of my own soul, and the laws by which God works with humanity, I am now able to accomplish more with less effort than ever before.
Similar transformations are particularly evident in all strong religious personalities. Of course, there are great differences among them and I do not wish to place them on the same level. However, it is undeniable that Buddha’s conversion has something in common with Jesus’ struggle in the wilderness before being baptized by John. Paul’s conversion is similar to Tolstoy’s, and the Apostle Peter underwent three transformations as is hinted at in the New Testament.
Nevertheless, even the humblest person can experience such a transformation. It is desirable that everyone consciously steps “out of themselves” whenever they manage to create a higher and more vital idea of their “I,” with which they then identify themselves through the force of all their moral effort, remaining on this level until they succeed in taking the next step forward.
In my life, I have seen many such transformations. Drunkards left their old ways; angry and irritable people entered a new life; people consumed by various passions turned away from their destructive habits; old pessimists became optimists; individuals burdened by their own or others’ worries freed themselves, and many things that once concerned and troubled them no longer interested them. Even more numerous are those who have been healed of various ailments and illnesses, whose roots were psychological in nature. Most of all, there are those who once lived contentedly but now are far happier, and their lives bring them greater joy because they have learned to live a fuller, more beautiful, and triumphant life.
We come into the world with the potential for a triumphant and beautiful life, but these predispositions must be stimulated in order to manifest them. It is useless for a child to be born with eyes and the ability to see if it is left forever in darkness. It requires the stimulation of sunlight. So it is with the hearing and every other faculty. The more and the more beautiful stimuli a person has, the more abilities for a fuller life are awakened within them.
Different stimuli will be evoked by a cemetery or a society resembling a cemetery, and completely different stimuli will be stirred by the babbling of a brook, the scent of a forest, birdsong, or the company of those who cultivate a creative life.
The greatest poverty is not the lack of material possessions but the lack of stimuli to awaken the forces and abilities dormant within us. A rich person is one who, through their awakened and cultivated faculties, finds many points of connection with the world around them and has a multifaceted relationship with everything that surrounds them. A rich person who has few connections to real life is poor. They perish amidst abundance. The more senses a person has awakened, the more new worlds are opened to them.
A person with a selfish “I,” striving to gain much solely for themselves, loses more and more because their “I” has fewer and fewer real, nourishing connections to life. But the more rays of love they send to others, the more their “I” expands, connecting through broader realms of sympathy, and the more they experience the unity of all existence.
The ability to choose emotions. – Inner conflicts and hidden desires. – Why we should not suppress unpleasant emotions. – Causes of some angers and sorrows. – Hidden roots of moods. – How to find oneself within oneself. – The cravings of primitive and modern people. – American quirks. – Alcoholism and hypersensitivity. – Deliberate and unintended expressions of emotions.
Is it possible for someone to like something they are convinced they hate?
“I’m terribly angry,” a certain merchant tells me. “Tell me how to rid myself of this vice!”
“You will stop being angry when you stop liking your anger,” I replied.
He stared at me in amazement and said, “I can’t imagine how I could hate this flaw any more than I already do. After every outburst, I feel remorse.”
I replied, “You even like that remorse, just as a drunkard likes spirits.”
He didn’t know whether I was joking or being serious. I meant it very seriously, and his anger disappeared as soon as I managed to convince him that he actually did like it, along with the remorse and all the excitement associated with it.
A certain woman, after every outburst of her quick temper, could cry her eyes out—and yet her temper, along with those streams of tears, was as much a presumed necessity of her emotional life, just as swearing or cigarettes might be for someone else. She recognised this and thereby cured herself.
I know well how difficult it is for someone to believe that they take pleasure in their unpleasant emotions. It is like certain foods or drinks: a person grows fond of them, even though they know they are harmful. I’m not saying they love them with their whole being, but I insist that there is always something within them that has chosen those undesirable feelings and even wishes for them.
It is a fact that we ourselves decide which mental states, and with what emotional colouring, will gain dominance within us.
A person who knows how to want, and truly wants, can choose the state of mind they like the most and that most beneficially affects their body, soul, and surroundings.
A modern psychologist might say: “Tell me what you feel, and I will tell you who you are. Tell me what you love, what you fear, what angers or irritates you, and I will describe your character, your behaviour, and the condition of your health.”
Whoever allows themselves to be swept away by their emotions also sweeps away everything else: nerves, brain, glands, willpower, and reason. Every nervous invalid, every person turned grey by worry, and every face lined by prolonged anxiety bears witness to how mental states, emotional excitement, and life perspectives affect a person as a whole.
Usually, a person finds it hard to believe that they have the ability to control their mood. Everything suggests to them that they are as innocent of their moods as they are of the fact that it sometimes rains or snows. According to their opinion, moods have no roots in anything that could fall within the reach of personal control but are rather something imposed from the outside, like a thief breaking into a house or rising prices increasing the cost of goods.
The opposite is true. Most of the contradictions occurring within us arise from the fact that a person remains an unknown continent to themselves.
The Apostle Paul aptly describes this conflict when he says: “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.” Paul’s interpretation of this inner struggle was, of course, different from that presented by modern psychology. Today, we know that the inner conflict arises from the clash between instinctive desires rooted in the subconscious and our conscious ideals.
Every mood is usually the result of our choice.
Moods that we consciously disapprove of correspond to some hidden desires within us, with which we have not been fully reconciled, which we suppress, and we avoid resolving them energetically on the open field of our daily consciousness.
Whether we admit it or not, any mood we consciously condemn persists for the simple reason that some part of us derives satisfaction from it. It acts as a release for feelings which something deep within us is unwilling to let go of.
Let us not forget that indulging in certain emotions, even harmful ones, creates a habit, a mental automatism that, with each new indulgence, becomes stronger and more insistent.
Working forcibly against undesirable moods is of no help. Instead, at the moment when we resolve not to suppress any unpleasant feeling or desire hidden in the depths of our subconscious, and instead we desire to acknowledge and confess even the most hidden ones, that moment can become a quiet moment of self-examination, our subconscious will stop concealing its depths from us, and many things may arise that surprise us. Many desires that were annoying to us and were suppressed will come to the surface, some perhaps from the time of distant childhood. The first step is thus to uncover and acknowledge to ourselves those hidden tiny roots and causes of bad moods.
To facilitate that self-examination, we will present several types of roots that tend to persist in the subconscious and cause undesirable outbursts of emotions and passions.
A frequent phenomenon is childish anger. If we observe a child well when they are angry, we find that through their agitation, they want to escape an unpleasant fact or cover up their mistakes. It is a kind of self-defence for the weak.
The one who gets the angriest is the one who feels their inadequacy the most, even if only subconsciously. The least angry is the one who is aware of their strength and superiority. They are closer to laughter than to anger. A certain feeling that we are not being seen in a favourable light, that something is infringing on our rights, that we are being defeated in some way, are weak, or not sufficiently respected, can play a role here.
Some people, however, wish to evoke a peculiar kind of pity for themselves. Of course, if someone were to come and say, “Accept my sincere condolences,” they would become even angrier. And yet, essentially, it is about nothing other than eliciting, through anger, sadness, or some other negative mood, a kind of sympathetic condolence. If we decide that we do not wish to evoke pity or sympathy in any form, we rid ourselves of the need for these distressing feelings and of “self-pity.”
This does not mean that a person should never complain under any circumstances or accept encouragement and comfort. It can be quite difficult to find the right boundary between self-pity and the dignified discussion of certain life experiences.
Another type of hypersensitivity and irritability is often the result of internal tension caused by unfulfilled desires that demand to assert themselves. If a person is internally disturbed because they cannot obtain the clothes they want, cannot present themselves in society as they wish, cannot achieve the education or position they desire; or if their longing for the opposite sex is more heightened than circumstances, various considerations, or ethical feelings allow; or if a person burns with longing for a family, a household; for travel; or for excelling in some field, inner excitement and restlessness arise, which intensify with every new thought and idea that feeds those desires.
A person can usually only tolerate such tension to a certain limit, and if that limit is ever exceeded, even a quite insignificant event can cause it to burst to the surface. The outburst can appear in the most varied forms
We can deceive ourselves, and our friends can also deceive themselves, about the most fundamental cause of our irritability, agitation, nervousness, quick temper, and grumpiness—in short, our bad mood. Anyone who observes themselves carefully will soon notice how, before every outburst, they felt some kind of internal pressure, which kept building up until a small spark was enough to trigger the explosion.
Let us also remember another common roots of bad moods. These are the various states of fear, anxiety, and unnecessary worries.
Whenever someone falls into abnormal fear, their friends try to advise them to use their reason and abandon their fear. But how can we ask someone to resist when they are fighting in the dark? How can we ask them not to be afraid when the thing they fear is only a symbol of what they actually fear?
Instead of lengthy reasoning, a few simple words are often much more helpful, such as: Straighten your back! Don’t be afraid! Stand firm! Chin up! This too shall pass!
In other situations, we make our work easier when we manage to uncover the hidden causes of unnecessary fears and when we realise what is the true foundation of those anxieties. Such understanding, in and of itself, is often the best remedy. The roots hidden in the subconscious often wither immediately once they come to the surface of awareness.
If, for example, someone’s sexual instinct has been aroused to a certain degree and then suppressed, it activates glands that are associated with fear. However, only anxiety or dread of some misfortune enters their consciousness, as if the person were to step down onto a non-existent stage in the dark. At the same time, it is possible to trace a peculiar inner conflict, which the individual may not immediately recognise, and which manifests as the repressed instinct resurfacing and provoking a dual, mutually opposing fear: on the one hand, fear of what might happen if it were satisfied, and on the other, fear of what will happen if it is not satisfied. The more the instinct pushes to the surface, the greater the opposing tension, which intensifies until it discharges as fear. This fear, however, can take on a tangible form, such as a headache, brooding, sullenness, or other manifestations. However, if the person has learned to sublimate or refine their instinct, transforming it into a higher, more elevated level, they need not suffer under its pressure, even if the instinct remains unsatisfied in its primitive form.
Abnormal fear, no matter how much it may seem to be directed at something outside us, is always, in its essence, fear of something within us. Every excessive fear is closely linked to a desire that is in conflict with our moral sense or our personality as a whole.
A certain twenty-year-old young man accused himself of being the robber who, at the age of twelve, broke into a certain shop and killed the owner. Such a murder did indeed occur, and the perpetrator was never caught, but no one in the world was less guilty of the murder than that quiet, shy, gentle twenty-year-old young man. How could such self-accusation arise and drive him to madness?
The cause was a suppressed desire to excel in something. It was a repressed instinct for some kind of heroism, for self-assertion, which ultimately chose such an inappropriate expression that the young man preferred to be thought of as a robber rather than as a completely unknown person.
Any desire and any instinct can burden us only as long as we attribute some justification to them, as long as we favour them, even when we know they are in conflict with the better side of our personality.
We are not entirely uninvolved in what happens in our subconscious. The moon always and only turns its illuminated side towards us, but the unlit side moves along with it and also influences the tides of the sea. The unlit side of the moon resembles the subconscious, and we cannot escape responsibility for its activity.
These need not be evil or impure instincts seeking to express themselves. We are not created for extravagances. But if we remain serious, rigid, and sad for too long, internal pressure will undoubtedly build over time and cause a deviation in the opposite direction. Those who do not understand themselves often bear the heavy consequences of this.
We have an example in children. If we take into account their childish nature and allow them t he freedom that permits innocent adventures, we need not greatly fear that they might surprise us with undesirable adventures. Humans do not love monotony. From time to time, they need some lively change.
Since time immemorial, humans have displayed these tendencies. Primitive peoples sometimes hold their wild night time dances. Latin nations hold their street masquerades. Americans, a nation otherwise quiet and industrious, have their special days during which we would not recognise America. Noise, shouting, and firing guns in the air in the streets, throwing roses and ribbons! Most unusual groups appear in costumes. An elegant lady dressed fashionably walks down the street with a cowbell tied to her foot. A man of dignified appearance makes a racket with a rattle so loud that one’s ears are ringing. Long artificial noses and clown hats are very common. Also, there are imaginative floats or entire parades of masqueraders.
Whoever understands the psychology of individuals and crowds, and has a higher ethical awareness, will prefer to see such occasional displays rather than our endless irritation over nothing.
And just as whole nations have their ways of breaking through the dam of everyday monotony, so do individuals. Everyone occasionally needs to do something unusual. How such an outburst will look depends on our awareness, character, conscience, and also on other influences rooted in the subconscious and on how well we can control them.
Among the least appropriate ways people sometimes break through the wall of monotony are anger and grumpiness of every kind. There are people who from time to time must argue with someone or insult someone thoroughly, leaving not a single shred of goodness in them. All of this comes from the same source.
Between alcoholism and hypersensitivity, there is more similarity than one might notice at first glance. Chronic alcoholism has the same origin as chronic anxiety or irritability. One bathes in alcohol, the other intoxicates themselves with poisoned emotions. After drunkenness, there is a headache and regret, just like after an outburst of anger or crying.
Everyone chooses their way of discharging emotions. I only admit one thing to anyone who claims they did not choose their way of discharging emotions, it is that they did not choose it consciously. Whenever a passion arises that we cannot control, it corresponds to some subconscious part of our personality, which chooses and decides the method of discharging; and this is what we wish to avoid, this is where we want to re-educate ourselves. We desire that always and in everything, and especially regarding our moods, we decide consciously with the better, higher, divine part of our personality.
We can choose our mood. So let us choose a cheerful mood, let us discharge our emotions in singing, in smiling, and in overcoming all sorts of nonsense that would provoke our old, subconscious, anger-prone depths into explosions.
If we have lived a sufficient amount of time expressing a cheerful, joyful, hopeful, kind, and smiling mood, if we have often enough done things that other people are not yet used to doing, if we have often enough trained ourselves in directing our mood positively, we can be certain that there will be no room for grumpiness and fears, nor for emotional outbursts, to manifest themselves.
Our emotions and passions, our mood-driven forces, are like the sea upon which ships sail. The sea is sometimes calm, sometimes stormy, but this does not determine the direction the ships take. In the old days, storms at sea foretold disaster. Today, even during a storm, cheerful music and songs play on a modern ship, and the helmsman steers the ship with confidence and calm. This modern ship resembles a person who has become the master of their subconscious and their moods.
The emergence of bad moods. – The story of two teachers. – The misuse of good and bad moods. – Subconscious struggles and unwanted helpers. – Foolish vanity. – How mental pains transform into physical illnesses. – Inner conflicts: of a boy, a doctor, a cashier. – Joy at the hardening of arteries. – How to control subconscious intelligence.
Mastery of mood is not a matter of a mere moment. It is a state that we continually create. Illness, too, has its longer or shorter history before it erupts to the surface. Usually, a minor cause brings about the visible outbreak of a disease that had long been invisibly brewing, and yet people believe that this minor cause was the sole reason for the illness.
Bad moods, too, have their history before they enter consciousness and show themselves on the surface of the face. It is often the last drop that causes the cup to overflow. However, to speak figuratively, we tend to believe that this last drop filled the entire vessel.
Thus, it happens that a man has been provoked and exhausted the whole day, but his energy sufficed because he always kept in mind the thought that, in front of others at work in the shop, he would harm himself if he let go. He remains pleasant and polite until the end. But then, when he comes home, a minor thing crosses his path, perhaps a single word, and all his pent-up frustration from the entire day erupts in the form of reproaches and anger.
Similarly with a woman. She had trouble with the children, worries about money, or something else. She is alone and must manage the situation. But when her husband comes home, she feels relieved and might want to talk about her troubles, but suddenly, the last drop appears, which overflows the cup. The milk boils over on the flame of her stirred-up mood, creating an unpleasant smell throughout the house.
However, if both were aware of this common pattern, they would either avoid accumulating unpleasant moods within themselves, allow them appropriate release, or through exercises in relaxation and the use of suitable suggestions, continuously find balance and prevent explosive emotions from building up inside.
I studied the lives of two teachers. Both were natural mothers and, year after year, month after month, suppressed their maternal instincts. Weakness, exhaustion, and nervousness set in, and what was suppressed manifested at even the smallest opportunity, but in each case, in a different way. One of them associated her maternal instincts with jealousy, envy, and aggression, and at every opportunity, even caused suffering to the children at school.
The other teacher connected her maternal instincts with benevolence, with an ideal world-view of fraternity and solidarity among all people. She used every opportunity to show the children special attention. Wherever she went, the children followed her, until she eventually founded a shelter for abandoned children, to whom she dedicated herself entirely. The same force, under the same circumstances, created moods that were supremely happy and beneficial.
It is well known how people can take advantage of others’ good moods for their own benefit. But our subconscious knows how to exploit bad moods, seemingly to benefit us, while actually harming us. The subconscious has its deepest roots in instincts and habits inherited from the times of primitive and pre-primitive eras, which we share with animals. This helps us explain some of the tricks it occasionally plays on us.
For example, a man wants to go to the pub, but his wife wants him to stay at home. The man does not want to “spill vinegar” [argue] with his wife and suppresses his desire to go to the pub. He would like to go, he admits this to himself, but he would prefer not to have a disagreement with his wife. Internally, pressure builds up and manifests as irritation. A small matter suffices, and a big scene develops. The man and the woman quarrel, and the man’s reason for his trip to the pub is suddenly felt to be justified.
Another example, which is quite different yet belongs to the same category, was published in a scientific journal dealing with ophthalmology. A certain man went blind. His eyes were healthy, yet he could not see. It turned out that, for some time, he had harboured a wish not to see his wife at all because her behaviour was very unpleasant to him. Once the entire subconscious complex that caused the blindness was brought to his awareness, and once he found a more effective way to deal with his wife, he regained his sight.
In this case, the subconscious helped the man achieve his goal by interrupting his vision through the disruption of certain psychophysical connections—but at what cost!
Or take a person who is consumed by vanity, though unwilling to admit it. Yet this vanity can become a decisive factor in shaping their bad moods. I listened to four men talking. They were discussing how they raised their children solely by frequent and thorough beatings. From their half-hour conversation, I sensed that these men took pride in how they beat their children. It was a kind of vanity they would never admit if someone pointed it out. But they felt satisfaction in their power over others and in the knowledge that they were known for their strictness and their ability to “give a thrashing” to a child.
Many illnesses are often triggered by subconscious causes. One can only feel sorrow for those people whom no one in the family notices, or those upon whom too many burdens are placed. They suppress sorrow, anger, or fear, and their subconscious then creates conditions in which the whole household starts paying attention to them, meals are prepared differently for them, the alarm clock is silenced for their sake, etc.. I am far from suggesting that the illness, which in such cases arises, is not real. It certainly is. And the dear patient has no idea how their subconscious takes care of them, so that everyone pays them more attention and treats them more gently.
Sometimes, however, a patient does not seek special attention. Instead they feel content with the awareness that they have something unique that others do not possess.
The realisation that fulfilment can also be achieved through opposite means can change everything. A person can just as easily draw attention to themselves through cheerfulness, love, and wisdom; they can assert their ambition by reconciling those in conflict and bringing laughter to the sorrowful. And the subconscious, with the same willingness, will lend its strength to positive moods.
Our subconscious, having so much in common with a child and a primitive human being, loves to speak in images and symbols, and this is the very reason we fail to understand it.
Observe how a child expresses great joy or sorrow; everything can be observed in their movements more clearly than in their words. Not only movements, but even a child’s play is often a symbol of what is happening in their soul. A child is able to imagine something vivid, real, even when we fail to see it.
Similarly, our subconscious behaves in the same way. We suppress some pain, some disappointment, or anger. We push these feelings into the subconscious. However, the subconscious is not capable of holding these accumulated emotions indefinitely, and so it transforms them and sends them to the surface of consciousness in a different form.
For instance, we feel some kind of emotional pain, and every time it surfaces, we immediately suppress it again. What happens then? Emotional pain takes on the form of physical pain, because we tend to be more indulgent towards bodily illnesses. We do not suppress them; instead, we seek to accommodate them, to cure them.
To someone unfamiliar with such processes, it would seem unbelievable what various forms an unresolved inner conflict or unresolved struggle, usually moral in nature, can take.
I studied a schoolboy, healthy and lively. At night, he started to become frightened, wringing his hands, crying out that he was unhappy and did not know what to do. By day, he knew nothing of it. His parents were alarmed. The doctor assured them that the boy was completely healthy.
What was the underlying cause? Through analytical methods, I discovered the following: the boy had a very sensitive conscience. His friends had encouraged him to cause trouble for a shopkeeper. They advised him on how to make the stockings she was displaying in the shop to flutter near a gas burner, or how to scatter the goods she was selling.
The shopkeeper would always get very angry, scolding and threatening the boys whenever they did something to her, and they found it very amusing. She eventually grabbed a broom and ran after them, but the boys knew she could not leave her shop, and they were delighted that she could not carry out her threats of punishment.
The boy resisted joining in with all his might, although he also felt tempted to perform some mischievous act of boyish bravado to measure up to the others and gain their admiration. This entire moral conflict then manifested itself in his dreams, which grew increasingly intense over several nights.
Discovering this was, of course, very easy, but it often seems that the subconscious chooses symbols in which it is difficult to recognise the true nature of the repressed conflict.
A dentist’s right hand became paralysed. He believed that he would never again be able to practise his profession. Before that, his only little son had died. His subconscious told itself: “My right hand is gone.” And this thought, that he had lost his right hand, caused the paralysis of the hand. The subconscious used a rather inappropriate symbol to express the painful loss. When these connections were clarified and the subconscious complex was dissolved, the paralysis subsided, and within a week, he was completely healthy.
If the subconscious can act so powerfully as to symbolise suppressed pain by paralysis of the hand, or to manifest a boy’s moral conflict through desperate hand-wringing in a dream, it is clear that there are many more minor manifestations. It often happens that a suppressed bad mood in the morning discharges itself in the afternoon over some minor occurrence that had absolutely no resemblance to the original unpleasantness!
For example, a cashier encounters some discrepancy during his calculations. He suppresses his annoyance and goes to lunch. After lunch, his stomach aches, and he recalls that the meat was a bit tough and becomes convinced that the kitchen was responsible for his stomach pain. If he had known the laws of subconscious influence, he would have immediately suggested to himself after the accounting problem: “The matter is resolved, next time I’ll be more careful, the lunch will taste good to me, and I’ll have a good mood all day, both physically and mentally,”—and that tension might not have arisen.
The subconscious, as soon as it accepts an idea, immediately works towards its realisation; if it cannot directly bring about a particular thought or event because for various reasons it lacks sufficient means, it tries to imitate it, often misleading us into seeing connections where none exist.
I knew people who suggested to themselves, or allowed themselves to be suggested, that they had stomach cancer. All the difficulties and pains characteristic of stomach cancer appeared, yet the cancer itself was absent.
I knew others who believed that their rheumatism was endowed with a sense of foresight and could infallibly predict changes in the weather. Their rheumatism would come alive with joy before such a change, but it would also cause them sharp pain. In reality, this was a belief they had implanted in themselves, associating certain pains with specific atmospheric changes, which the subconscious is already capable of detecting. If the subconscious were trained in a different direction, it would just as well sense everything and bring it to our awareness through painless means.
I had the opportunity to meet a woman from the countryside who believed she had hardened arteries and yet was cheerful about it. I met her when she was travelling to Prague to see a doctor. She truly displayed all the symptoms of a person with hardened arteries, but only to a mild degree because these were symptoms she had suggested to herself.
I was amazed at how joyfully she spoke about her illness and even took pride in it. I asked if it wasn’t a very unpleasant thing.
“What can you do?” she replied. “You see, it’s from all the good food that I enjoy. If I only ate potatoes and I don’t know what, I wouldn’t have it, but I’d rather put up with a little pain. What is life if a person can’t eat well?”
As we spoke further, I learned that this woman had accepted the suggestion from various conversations that when a person is well-off, eats well, and is older (she was about 65), they inevitably develop hardened arteries.
She diligently inquired about all the symptoms of that bourgeois illness, and in her subconscious, the idea of good food became connected with the image of the symptoms of the disease. To this was added an emotion of pride and desire for something that great gentlemen possess. The subconscious dutifully created all the symptoms of the illness.
We recognise how our ideas are processed in our subconscious. We have come to understand that the subconscious intelligence manages the functioning of our body, regulates digestion, blood circulation, breathing, secretion by glands, the formation of new cells, the excretion of dead cells, and generally everything related to nourishment, growth, health, and the strength of the body.
Our subconscious operates based on a millennia of experiences that have proven themselves effective, but also based on suggestions that are maintained through various superstitions and which are the reason why there are so many sad, despondent, and ill people in the world. Functions that the subconscious has mastered over long periods of experience are performed with great ease and without effort, yet even such functions can be disrupted by suggestions. A person with healthy lungs can develop shortness of breath; a person with a healthy heart can suggest to themselves a heart defect. If this can happen to “established” functions, it can happen even more easily to functions about which our subconscious is only just learning.
For example, if a child is learning to read or write, and it is not suggested to them how easy it is, and if at the same time no emotion of lively interest or enthusiasm for the task is evoked in them, and if, on the contrary, they have heard someone say how tiring it is, they will endure only briefly and soon become tired. On the other hand, if attention is paid to the laws of the subconscious, the same task does not tire them, and sometimes it is even necessary to pull the child away from it.
Suggestive ideas, connected with emotional excitement, act very strongly on the health of the body, mood, and happiness of the soul. They are like a magic wand by which subconscious intelligence can be controlled. But it would be disastrous for us if any and every suggestion could control it. Before the gates of the mysterious castle of the subconscious, many obstacles have accumulated. If we do not know how to overcome these obstacles, even the best suggestions become powerless.
And what are these obstacles, which, like an army, fortify and defend these walls? They are old suggestions. Many of them date back to childhood. Many of these suggestions, which arose inadvertently from overhearing conversations of adults, penetrated deeply into the subconscious of a child and today are a great master there, even a law. Some suggestions are so closely tied to the origins of a particular family line that they are passed down from generation to generation. Others are barely a day or a week old and compete with the older ones in strength and effectiveness. There are suggestions that come from friends, others from teachers and priests. Some entered the subconscious in moments of great agitation and disturbance, joy or sorrow, fear or anger, love or hatred, and these tend to be the strongest of all.
Hereditary diseases, chronic illnesses, unhappy moods, oppressive mental states, lack of concentration, forgetfulness, ageing, repulsive appearances, and many other things often have their deepest roots in such suggestions. And if we want to create a new personality, begin a new, happier life, if we want to be youthful, strong, and successful, it is necessary to plough over the fallow land of old suggestions, cleanse it, and reseed it anew.
A shipwreck. – Masaryk. – Causes of unrest. – Severe consequences of agitation in a young man and a young woman. – Calming oneself while sitting, waiting, reading, listening to speeches, etc. – How a lady became hoarse in church. – What most tires country people in the city. – Controlling the voice. – A female doctor on women. – The necessity of distinguishing the purpose of nerves and muscles.
Mental calm is a sign of great souls. It manifests most beautifully in moments when lesser souls despair. A survivor of a shipwreck told me this: When the ship began to sink, the weaker ones lost their heads and started to cry out in desperation. The stronger ones fought with fists, knives, and pistols for a place in the lifeboat. On the deck above, a few men stood calmly. Fighting or wailing was not an expression of their souls. They stood imperturbably and, as far as they could, calmed others and helped until the end. My storyteller said how he envied them their calm and how their composure ultimately calmed him as well.
Americans often believe that they have the least calm and the most heightened tension. They have countless nervous disorders. A large number of our own people live in similar tension.
Modern times have brought much unrest into life; the sources of calm that soothed our ancestors have dried up or been polluted. We do not know how to believe as they believed; we want faith that is reasoned, which is not in contradiction to scientific knowledge. Such faith is not well known and does not reach the ears of many whom it could save.
[Tomáš Garrigue] Masaryk was one of the rare exceptions in Czech life. He managed to live to an advanced age with considerable vitality despite leading a busy life. Not a few of our leaders die prematurely. The true cause of this is most often nervous overstrain and irritation, as well as ignorance of the art of calming oneself.
Unrest can be caused by physical conditions, such as overburdened nerves, heart disorders, high blood pressure, gallstones, liver diseases, and so on.
However, unrest most often arises from mental causes. It then manifests itself in the nervous system, the face, the eyes, unnecessary movements of the hands, and the entire body.
There is unrest that a person deserves, and unrest that they bring upon themselves out of ignorance or negligence.
The belief that every unrest arises from external causes, that surroundings, circumstances, and everything pressing in from outside are the reasons for unrest, is incorrect. Modern psychology emphasises the fact that the roots of unrest lie in the soul, even when it seems that it is a struggle with external circumstances.
In difficulties of any kind, there are always people who endure them calmly and others who collapse under them.
It would be difficult to determine how many illnesses arise from unrest. It is not only neurasthenia, poor digestion, and some heart diseases. Unrest caused by prolonged suffering, fear, or anger can be the cause of many illnesses, even cancer.
I knew a young man who smoked all day, went straight from his office to drink black coffee, danced, and partied into the late hours. Sleep-deprived, in nervous tension, and mentally exhausted, he went to work, where under such tension it was not easy to fulfil his duties. It went from bad to worse until, during one incident, he suffered a nervous breakdown. He went mad.
Here’s another example of where several years of tension can lead. A girl from the best Prague society, in her prime years, beautiful and wealthy, was on the verge of suicide because all the treatments she underwent according to standard methods failed to alleviate her insomnia and the constant anxiety in which she lived. I asked her how it had come to this. She said, “From the age of sixteen to twenty-six, I partied. Black coffee, cigarettes, dancing, apéritifs, cocktails, sleepless nights, and everything that went along with it.” I was not surprised that she reached such a state, but I was surprised by how quickly she recovered when she began rigorously to practice methods aimed at mastering the art of relaxation. When her sleep and peace were restored, at our farewell, I said: “If you were to return to your previous lifestyle, do not expect to recover so quickly, and be aware that something worse may come.”
A person can endure a great amount of unrest before falling ill. Some more, some less. But waiting to cultivate peace until an illness arises is very unwise.
My experiences with the nervous, overworked, weakened, irritated, and agitated—with melancholics and neurasthenics—have taught me that the importance of relaxation cannot be emphasised enough.
Nervousness, agitation, and irritability were once confined only to a few people, but today, it is rare to find anyone who does not succumb to these undesirable states, at least occasionally.
It is generally considered that sleep is the most effective natural remedy for complete calm and refreshment. But not always. Are there not enough people who, instead of waking up rested and refreshed, rise in the morning fatigued and with agitated minds?
It is like with food. Someone eats a lot and remains undernourished, while another eats relatively little and is well-nourished. Similarly, some people sleep a lot but remain unrested, while others, with shorter sleep, fully restore their strength.
Human culture has not developed harmoniously. Certain human abilities have been overstretched, while others have atrophied. For those untouched by cultural conditioning, such as a healthy child, sleep always brings relaxation to the muscles and nerves. However, a cultivated person can eat and drink a lot without strengthening themselves, and can sleep without refreshing themselves.
Let us pay attention when we lie down, whether we surrender our “dead weight” to the bed, or whether we keep our muscles tense and fall asleep under strain.
For some, the spine does not rest; for others, the muscles of the arms or legs do not “relax”; and for others, the facial muscles remain tense. The head often lies as though it must hold up the pillow, the tongue is often pressed against the upper gums, and the throat muscles are tight. Some people sleep with their teeth clenched, others with their lips tightly pressed together, and others with their eyebrows furrowed.
Many are so accustomed to tension during sleep that they do not even notice it. Therefore, it is recommended to observe a healthy child, how it falls asleep and sleeps, and to practise relaxation, so that we can more easily calm ourselves throughout the entire body and in all our limbs.
Let us notice how many people sit as if they are holding the chair instead of the chair holding them. Many people feel tired after travelling by train. First, they become agitated before departure, then during the journey, and finally, they collapse into a poor posture on the train! Instead of fully yielding to the law of gravity and rhythm, and enjoying the pleasant feeling that arises from proper relaxation, they become nervous, impatient, and tired.
It is ridiculous, but true, that many people exhaust and tire themselves the most while waiting, even though waiting is the most suitable opportunity for calming down. There is nothing to do but wait. Even if we stood on our heads, we would still have to wait. But how do many people wait? They “harness” all their muscles and their entire nervous system into the act of waiting.
Whether we are waiting for a friend or a waiter, a delayed train, or our number in a queue, or for a phone call—let us wait only with the muscles and nerves necessary for the task, and save a lot of life energy.
I am not a friend of unnecessary waiting, and I know there is more of it than needed. Many people have not yet realised that “time is money”, nor do they realise that wasting someone else’s time unnecessarily and against their will, makes them a kind of thief. However, there are tasks that can only be performed by the brain, and any other physical effort only drains energy and efficiency from the brain. Perhaps we are thinking and do not want to do anything other than think. Let us recall how we tend to behave! Almost everyone has their favourite but unnecessary physical effort that accompanies their thinking.
The same happens during quiet reading. Anyone who knows even a little about the anatomy and physiology of the body will confirm that reading and thinking do not require the effort of facial muscles, hands, feet, or other muscles that young schoolchildren and many adults use to assist themselves; thus, they deprive themselves of the pleasure they could have by relaxing the inactive parts of the body.
Observe people when they are listening to someone! How their shoulders, spine, and facial muscles work, even when they’re not expressing agreement or disagreement in the usual ways!
A certain woman couldn’t understand why she became breathless every Sunday morning. The matter was simple. She was listening to a preacher whose thoughts got ahead of his words, causing him to stammer. The woman listened to him with great tension, and whenever he stammered, she tensed her muscles and nerves as if she could help him, to the point that she became hoarse and short of breath. When she learned the art of listening in a relaxed way, she experienced greater enjoyment with less effort. She realised that no matter how much she strained herself, it would not benefit the preacher in the slightest.
A similar strain on listeners can be observed at every concert and performance. Music is meant to refresh a person so that they leave feeling calm. However, many leave feeling nervously weakened instead. The tone and rhythm of music create vibrations in our soul and have a very beneficial effect when the strings of our mind are at rest.
Every effort not only drains strength but also makes it impossible to achieve full, beautiful, calm attention, through which one can deeply drink in mental enjoyment.
People tire themselves even more when watching than with listening. The eyes suffer more than the ears when their nerves are unsettled.
Every act of watching is composed of many sensations, which, the more quickly they change, the more they exhaust us—especially if we don’t know when and where to stop and rest.
Country people come to the city, walk around all day, absorb millions of small impressions, and think it is only their feet that are tired; yet, it is primarily their nerves that are fatigued.
Everything can be viewed in two ways: a) in a straining and exhausting way, where we unnecessarily engage too many nerves and muscles; b) in a refreshing way, where we surrender to the pleasure and only allow those organs of the body necessary for the activity to do the work.
People expend unnecessary effort most when speaking. I do not mean deliberate and purposeful gesturing that a speaker uses to emphasise spoken words. Nothing we do consciously, with consideration of the cost we pay and the value we gain, is unnecessary.
An animal communicates only through its body and a few sounds. The more culture and self-discipline a person acquires, the less they use their body for communication, relying instead on language and eye contact.
Some people, when they speak, jerk their entire body, wave their arms, lift their shoulders, twist their faces, grimace, and sweat as if they were chopping tree stumps.
When we are calm and use only the organs needed for speaking, our voice flows as smoothly as oil or as wine from ripe grapes.
Notice how laboriously people communicate when they disagree. I once listened to two rural women arguing, straining all their nerves and muscles. Each worked like a runaway locomotive, wheezing, gasping, and creating the impression that they might explode and scatter in all directions.
This may seem exaggerated, yet it occurs frequently. We all have moments, however, when it is good to remind ourselves of the power of a controlled voice, accompanied by calm nerves and muscles. Especially in irritating controversies, I recommend lowering the voice and relaxing the muscles! The louder and more agitated someone else speaks, the more likely it is that we will achieve greater success against them by using a softer and calmer tone.
The voice is also a part of our character. An unsympathetic, shrill, and unpleasant voice can be eliminated when we change our disposition. Conversely, someone who becomes accustomed to speaking in a soft, melodious, calm, and controlled voice, works on refining their character. I know very well that by pretending, one can change their voice and speak sweetly even if their heart is full of venom; however, that does not prove that the consistent and sincere use of a calm, gentle tone has no effect on one’s character. Everything can be misused; one can make tinsel appear to be gold everywhere, but gold remains gold nonetheless.
According to the testimony of a female doctor, women suffer much more from irritation and unnecessary tension. Few women go without sewing or mending something, and this simple task provides a good opportunity to practise relaxation. She checks all her muscles and nerves to see if they are unnecessarily strained. In this way, she finds the most advantageous position, in which only the muscles necessary for sewing are used, while all others remain relaxed.
Another opportunity for practising relaxation is writing. Many people write in a way that strains their tongue, lower jaw, throat, and even the muscles of their legs and arms — all of which is entirely unnecessary.
People also waste a great deal of nervous energy when lifting heavy objects or moving sick people. This energy flows through the spinal cord and the spine. However, if, when lifting anything, we get into the habit of mentally and physically placing the main load on our legs, and consciously relaxing the pressure on the spine, we can lift much more weight and we tire far less. We distinguish between the strength of the nerves, which controls lifting, and the strength of the muscles, which perform the lifting.
These two forces can be recognised in every movement. Nerve strength is only needed to control the muscles. We should leave the muscular effort entirely to the muscles, allowing the nerves to guide them calmly and relaxedly—specifically, only the nerves and brain areas required for coordination. We should not try to direct the entire nervous system, the whole brain, the entire body, all muscles, and perhaps even the stomach, heart, lungs, and legs.
It sounds absurd. But this thing, which would be ridiculous in any other context, we perform constantly. How unreasonable would it be if, at some building site, everyone wanted to give instructions, from the brick carrier to the roofer! Or if even the person who makes the plans and oversees everything wanted simultaneously to mix mortar, carry bricks, and cut beams!
And we do this with every task until we have learned relaxation and understood which forces are necessary for what. We generally unnecessarily accompany our thinking with muscular efforts, and muscular efforts with nervous efforts; thus, we expend twice the energy and feel twice the fatigue.
Sleep is a great pleasure if we know how to sleep; sitting can be a delight if we sit in relaxation; food is a blessing if we truly only eat during a meal and do not simultaneously continue counting and planning, but let only the teeth, mucous membranes, and stomach work, and add at most a pinch of humour, which is the best seasoning at any table.
As for walking, it seems that even here women are greater sufferers. Some give the impression that even a simple walk were an exertion of nerves and muscles, merely undertaken for the purpose of displaying their clothing respectably through the street. I do not exclude those men who place no value on themselves and see their worth and dignity only in what they are wearing.
If someone strains their nerves and muscles to emphasise a gesture, then the enjoyment of walking cannot be found in walking itself, but rather only in fantasy.
Let us choose a middle path between lazy, tiring walking, and tense, exhausting walking. Let us seek the proper rhythm of walking, where only the muscles necessary for walking are working, where the nerves calmly and automatically direct, and the person moves in relaxed motion.
Even more than during ordinary walking, it is necessary to focus on relaxation when in great haste. There is no need to strain nerves—muscles alone are sufficient. We hurry most economically and effectively when we remain calm.
Whoever understands this will gain great spiritual wealth, find the key to untouched treasures of life energy, and will not lament their weakness when they discover how much unused or unnecessarily wasted strength exists within their own being.
From calming the nerves leads the path to calming the mind. Both aim to create a favourable disposition for gaining strength and a good mood.
We can make ourselves a conduit for greater or lesser power, for there is enough energy just as there is enough air. It is a matter of the apparatus through which this energy flows and of its correct use. As long as our lungs are healthy, we do not need to worry whether nature provides enough air for us. The main thing is to keep the lungs healthy and capable, to breathe deeply and enjoy the air, and to oxygenate the blood with it.
There is no sun in my eye, but my eye is capable of experiencing the rays of the sun. There is no music in my ear, but I believe in the infinite world of beautiful tones and meaningful words, and I train myself to hear correctly, to hear for a long time, and to use richly what I have heard.
Expand the chest! The Cosmic Force (Vesmírná Síla) flows through us. Let us learn to absorb strength with enjoyment and walk through life with victory on our face!
The influence of bile, glands, intestines, and teeth on mood. – The influence of sleep and how to induce it. – The great significance of relaxation. – Research by Prof. Jacobson. – Four types of relaxation. – Instructions from the book of an Eastern Master. – A second detailed guide on how to practise relaxation for various purposes.
Relaxation, meaning the conscious and practised loosening of muscles, is one of the most effective means of cultivating and maintaining a good mood. By doing this, we influence the muscles, through them the nerves, and through both, the mood. Our mood then impacts the entire body, as Dr. Winchell Craig wrote: “Those who worry a lot generally frown. And they frown not only with their forehead but with their entire body.” Of an angry person, we say they are “full of bile.” Undeniably, glands also have a significant influence on mood. A yoga master once said that true yoga begins in the intestines. And yoga, in the best sense of the word, is a path to mastering the mental and physical forces of a person, and thereby their mood. Teeth, especially if unhealthy, can also influence mood.
Sleep has an enormous impact on mood. Prof. Dr. Nelson, in the article “The Art of Sleeping,” wrote: “A hesitant and timid person generally falls asleep late. They know in advance that they won’t fall asleep immediately and that they must review all their worries and troubles before bed. Long after lying down, they experience restless sleep and only fall into deeper sleep towards morning. Upon waking, they feel unrested, lethargic, irritable, and work lethargically throughout the day.”
Prof. Nelson, meanwhile, mentions several methods to induce sleep. He writes: “Everyone knows ancient home remedies that provide a restless mind with harmless material for contemplation: reciting verses from hymnals, counting from 1 to 1000 and back again, evoking monotonous images in the mind, such as a rippling field, horses in a row jumping endlessly, etc..”
He also speaks about relaxation, which he considers the most effective means for falling asleep and cultivating a good mood. He states: “Reduced breathing in itself has a beneficial effect on the heart and nerves. It supports the relaxation of all the muscles in the body, from the toes to the fingers. With a little practice, we can relax the large thigh and torso muscles as well as the smaller muscle groups in the neck and face, including the lips and tongue. They must feel soft, heavy, and warm. Soon, we notice how the body relaxes and the spirit follows, as our consciousness is enveloped by bluish waves of sleep. This relaxation is possible only by touching mentally, so to speak, each limb with our thoughts. We let our attention slowly, like a spotlight, move across the entire body, leaving no room for other thoughts or images. The brain gradually tires and falls asleep.”
It is known that I was the first to lecture and conduct courses on relaxation in Prague. Today, I am aware of three universities where medical faculties scientifically and practically address this issue.
Professor Edmund Jacobson from the University of Chicago published an extensive scientific study on relaxation, in which he describes in detail the enormous impact relaxation has on human health, how significantly it supports healing, and finally presents several clinical cases where relaxation, even without the use of other therapeutic means, led to recovery.
Professor Jacobson distinguishes four types of relaxation. Ordinary relaxation, i.e., when the muscles relax naturally under any circumstances, without intentional release. Secondly, he distinguishes cultivated relaxation. Thirdly, partial relaxation, that is, of only one part of the body, such as the left or right hand, leg, eyes, lips, etc., and fourthly, he mentions differentiated relaxation, whose primary purpose is energy conservation. For example, if I need to climb stairs, I consciously use only the muscles necessary for ascending. The rest of the muscles and nerves I leave relaxed. Similarly, with any other work. This conserves energy and combats premature aging. In relaxation exercises, it is essential to develop a sense of perceiving partial tension, which persists among beginners even when they believe they are already fully relaxed.
Every doctor who engages in relaxation exercises, and every teacher of relaxation, usually has their own method; always based on what purpose they pursue, what personal experience they have, and what type of person is in front of them.
The following two instructions serve as examples of this. The first is taken from the book of an Eastern Master.
“Complete relaxation of the body and mind, even if it lasts only ten minutes, can refresh a person more than hours of restless sleep. If circumstances allow, lie down fully stretched out on the floor or on a sofa, or perhaps sit in a comfortable armchair. Loosen all clothing, if it fits tightly, then slowly and consciously relax one part of the body at a time. Then close your eyes and imagine complete darkness. Imagine yourself floating in a silent void. Deliberately clear away all thoughts and feelings. If you can, imagine yourself as if you were outside this world.”
Here is the second method for relaxation: Lie down on a sofa, bed, or floor with a low pillow under your head, just enough to avoid the pressure of the floor. Keep your legs straight, never one over the other. Place your arms straight alongside your body with the palms facing downward. Close your eyes. For about two minutes, turn your thoughts gently towardss a mental image of what you wish to achieve through this exercise.
Now, direct your thoughts to the muscles of your right leg, starting with the ankle. Then slowly lift your leg to about twenty centimetres in height without bending the knee. Keep it there for as long as it would take to count to ten. Your attention should remain focused on the ankle. (For beginners with weak muscles who can sustain this only with difficulty, it is sufficient to start with a few seconds and gradually extend the time until they achieve a better performance without any special effort.) Then, very slowly lower the leg, which may take as long as it would take to count to fifteen, until the leg returns to its original position. Meanwhile, as you do this, move your thoughts slowly from the ankle upward to the hip and imagine the leg weighted down by a burden. Aim to make the time it takes to return the leg to its original position equal to the time it takes your thoughts to move from the ankle to the hip. This accomplishes two things: while the tired leg is voluntarily moving downward, attention is directed upward from the ankle to the hip.
When the leg is down, and your attention has reached the hip, gently press the entire leg downward and exhale as if sighing in relief. Without pause, immediately shift your focus to the ankle of your left leg and begin to lift it slowly, repeating the same process as with the right leg.
As soon as we have finished the exercise with the left leg, we transfer our attention to the wrist of the right hand. Everything is repeated as with the legs. While the hand is slowly lowered, attention likewise slowly moves from the wrist to the shoulder. From the right shoulder, with a relaxing exhalation, we turn our attention to the left wrist, and everything is repeated. The hands must not be bent but should remain freely upright with the palms facing downward.
Once we have finished the exercise with the left hand while exhaling, we shift our attention from the left shoulder to the eyes, which we now open and effortlessly focus on some not overly defined point on the ceiling. This can be a pattern of a few lines, part of a painting, or, if the ceiling is white, a lighter or darker spot. If we perform the exercise in the dark or with our eyes closed, we imagine some pattern—a square, triangle, circle, or simply anything to engage the eyes without effort.
This should not be a fixed stare, nor should it be a form of autohypnosis. It is simply about achieving complete relaxation of the eyes as with the rest of the body. This can last up to half a minute.
When we have gently directed our eyes towards a simple, well-defined object, a sense of pleasant eye fatigue arises, while the whole body becomes gently still.
If we aim for nothing more than quick rest and the renewal of physical strength and mental freshness, we can indulge in a nap or deep sleep after this exercise. However, if our intention is to work towards specific goals by directly influencing the subconscious, relaxation serves as the ideal preparation for further progress.
Incidentally, let it be noted that nothing is spoiled if, to remove some unpleasant itching, the hand moves momentarily, as it can be immediately returned to its previous position, and it is better to remove the itching than for it to occupy our attention.
Another difficulty arises if we are not alone or if we are being disturbed. However, it is possible gradually to overcome even such obstacles and achieve, though more slowly, significant results.
If we wish to practice this type of relaxation for a special kind of enjoyment, we completely divert the mind away from the body and immerse ourselves in savouring some pleasant experience from our life. When we have fully savoured it and turn our attention back to our body, it is pleasant to observe how it is motionless and still—and we feel ourselves as though in two versions of ourself: one is the body, separated from the mental life, and the other is our mental essence, which observes the body, thinks about it, realises its superiority over it—and only when it decides, with a mere thought, does it awaken the body back to its normal activity, refreshed and revitalised.
If we want to use relaxation for treating some character flaw, we imagine vividly, as clearly and in as much detail as possible, the ideal we have chosen. We place ourselves actively, through imagination, into various life situations, behaving in them as new people, transformed, reborn, with a reorganised inner life. The old grumbler’s eyes and face brighten, a smile plays on his cheeks, and he elicits deserved admiration or surprise from all who had only known him as a grumbler.
A previously irritable person, who used to strain their nerves to the point of breaking, becomes a model of calm and strength. A calm gaze, slower speech, humour, and composure characterise their behaviour.
Practising these mental states and adapting to a new way of life begins immediately, as soon as we reach the stage of focusing and then relaxing our vision during the relaxation exercise. If the goal is greater self-control, we start with the suggestion: “Every day, in every way, I will gain more self-mastery.” Immediately afterward, we imagine ourselves in vivid detail in various typical situations, mentally experiencing every aspect of such self-control, including its effects and impressions on our surroundings and our life success.
If the goal is to improve health, we start with the suggestion: “Every day, in every way, I will gain more health.” We can stop at this suggestion and repeat it twenty times (counting twice for each finger of both hands) and then guide our thoughts back into a normal state.
Once we have practised disciplined methods of relaxation, we are amazed at how much we had unnecessarily exhausted ourselves, how often fatigue could have been delayed, reduced, or even completely eliminated.
All of this serves as preparation for greater self-discipline and control, leading to greater success and greater joy in life.
The influence of breathing on bodily functions. – The connection between breathing and mental states. – Variations in breathing during various illnesses. – Principles of correct breathing. – Breathing exercises. – Yogic findings. – What to avoid.
Breathing is the most essential function of the body. We can endure some time without food, a shorter time without drink, but only a few minutes without air.
Only a small percentage of the civilised population breathes correctly. Sunken chests, slumped shoulders, and an increase in respiratory diseases are evidence of this. Significant reduction in these issues could be achieved through proper breathing within a single generation.
It is known that healthy blood, proper digestion, lively nerves, and glands strongly support good mood. Therefore, everything beneficial to blood, nerves, and glands simultaneously serves good mood. Healthy blood depends on proper oxygenation in the lungs. And because the entire body is nourished by blood, impure blood has an adverse effect on the whole body.
Good digestion also depends on correct breathing. Similarly, the brain, spinal cord, and nerve centres, if not nourished by healthy blood, negatively affect both the physical and mental state of a person. This also applies to the activity of glands and other organs of the body.
Proper breathing supports vitality, resistance to illnesses, and protection against premature ageing while simultaneously fostering good mood. Negligent breathing weakens a person and exposes them to illnesses and bad moods.
Let us observe a person who relaxes in a good mood and while reminiscing about pleasant memories, noticing how calmly, slowly, and lightly they breathe. If they are angry, however, their breath becomes jerky, short, and fast.
The rhythm of our breathing aligns with the rhythm of our mental states. Agitation causes irregular breathing, while a calm mind positively encourages regular breathing. Controlled breathing can thus be used to control mood. It is impossible to breathe correctly whilst greatly excited and in a bad mood, and conversely, it is difficult to become angry while breathing correctly, calmly, slowly, and rhythmically. —The rhythm of our breathing is closely connected to our courage and fear, joy and sadness, love and anger.
We can more easily maintain inner balance if we combine mental techniques with controlled breathing.
Every physical ailment and every mental aberration corresponds to a specific type of incorrect breathing.
If we were carefully to observe successful people and compare them to those who “have bad luck,” we would find that these individuals also differ in their breathing patterns.
Proper breathing involves: breathing through the nose, not the mouth; breathing through both nostrils; breathing slowly, rhythmically, and deeply.
If improper breathing is caused by illness in the nose, throat, or lungs, it is necessary to see a doctor. However, if we have developed the habit of breathing through the mouth instead of the nose, using only one nostril instead of both, shallowly instead of deeply, or quickly instead of slowly, we must re-educate ourselves in these things. The removal of undesirable mental states is addressed in the chapter on emotions.
It is generally recognised that it is necessary to breathe through the nose and not through the mouth. Less well known is that many people breathe using only one nostril. To correct this disorder (if ordinary methods such as holding one nostril closed so that the other opens, clearing the blocked nostril with petroleum jelly or rinsing it with water do not help), a consultation with a specialist doctor is recommended.
Why should we breathe slowly and fully? Breathing that is too fast and shallow prevents the lungs from getting rid of toxins and used air. People easily develop the habit of fast and shallow breathing, but it is difficult to get rid of this bad habit. This makes practising proper breathing all the more necessary.
Rhythmic breathing supports regular blood circulation and mental balance, whereas irregular and jerky breathing has the opposite effect.
It is necessary to be vigilant to avoid extremes: neither paying too much attention to Breathing, nor neglecting it entirely.
During the day, it is enough occasionally to check your breathing to see if it follows the previously mentioned rules: breathing through the nose, through both nostrils, slowly, rhythmically, and fully. In the morning, or even in the evening if possible, take time for breathing exercises as outlined in the instructions provided later.
Each breathing exercise should begin with relaxation of the entire body, especially the face, neck, and shoulders. Also, pay attention to your facial expression. Let the facial muscles relax, keep the nostrils slightly open, and maintain a smile around the mouth. At first, it may seem impossible to combine breathing with relaxation, but with patient practice, it will gradually become easy and pleasant.
I emphasise that everything must be done without difficulty or unpleasant sensations, and if discomfort does arise, one must proceed more slowly and practice for shorter periods of time.
Breathing exercises are not recommended for anyone suffering from an organic defect of the heart or lungs.
Ensure that during the exercises, you are not disturbed, as the mind should be focused effortlessly only on the air as it enters and exits, as if we were simply detached observers and not participants.
If we hear the heart during this, it should be a calm, steady, and beating gently; otherwise, we pause the exercise.
The number of inhalations and exhalations per minute is not the same for everyone. To check how well we have managed to slow down our breathing, first count with a watch how many inhalations and exhalations we perform regularly in one minute. If, for example, there are sixteen inhalations and exhalations per minute, it is sufficient to reduce their number to twelve within a month, and later perhaps to nine inhalations and exhalations per minute.
For those who do not intend to engage in such special exercises, we first offer a short, simple, yet very effective exercise.
Outdoors, near an open window, or in a well-ventilated room, stand upright and with a single prolonged inhalation, first fill the lower part of the chest, then expand the chest up to the raised shoulders. — Then, a little more slowly, we reverse the process made during the exhalation, so that with one prolonged exhalation, we release the air first from the upper pair of the lungs as the shoulders lower, then from the chest as we slightly lean forward, and finally from the lower part as we draw the abdomen inward. — Repeat this three to four times in a row. This exercise can be repeated beneficially whenever we want to refresh ourselves.
Somewhat more complicated, but very effective, is the following exercise: Lie on your back, palms down, or sit with a straight spine. Relax the muscles completely and exhale first. Then begin the actual exercise. Inhale slowly and observe how the air enters the lungs. Hold your breath for two seconds and then exhale even more slowly. Do everything effortlessly, gently, and quietly. The mind remains focused solely on breathing. For a beginner, it is sufficient to practice for five minutes in the morning, or optionally in the evening. Those who have practised for several weeks without difficulty for five minutes can extend the duration to ten minutes, but no more than fifteen minutes per day.
To develop a habit of rhythmic and concentrated breathing, it helps to count during the exercise. If you inhaled without difficulty for a count of eight, then exhale for a count of twelve; if the inhalation was for six, then exhale for nine. However, it is not harmful if the exhalation lasts the same duration as the inhalation.
Breathing exercises are of primary importance for calming the mind, achieving mental balance, and more easily controlling thoughts and emotions. Their effect also manifests outwardly in the face, eyes, and movements. They refine and revitalise the complexion, brighten the eyes, and sharpen the mind.
A person becomes a battery of mental energy, which recharges itself in time, thereby preventing total mental exhaustion.
I advise students to remember breathing during exams, and similarly to all those who are prone to stage fright.
If a bad mood of any kind overtakes a person, it is beneficial to remember your breathing. Slowly, deeply, with relaxation and attention focused on inhalation and exhalation, and the mind refreshes, the heart calms, and new perspectives emerge.
In Europe, breathing is considered so obvious that it would seem absurd to establish courses or schools where students are taught how to breathe properly. However, in the East, there are teachers whose instructions on breathing could fill several volumes.
Eastern Masters assume that the importance of the breath lies not only in the oxygenation of the blood but also in the absorption of life force called prāna; the Sanskrit word for breath, “life force”, or “vital principle”, which permeates space. Western scholars have also begun to seriously engage with this issue. In 1923, Russian scientist Gourvich drew attention to “vital radiation” in a series of very extensive and fascinating studies. Similar studies on “vital energy” were conducted by Dr. Borde from Bordeaux. The findings of these European scholars’ research and experiments closely align with the yogic concept of prāna. For our purposes, it suffices to understand that correct breathing is extremely important and is associated with the revitalisation of the entire organism.
The core of all “higher” breathing exercises is the combination of a specific body position, relaxation, breathing, and thinking into a single act. Everything else is merely a variation of this fundamental principle.
For those interested and wishing to experience another type of breathing exercise, we provide a particularly characteristic instruction from one of the famous teachers of yogic breathing:
“Lie flat on your back. Once your body is in a state of complete relaxation, which manifests itself as a feeling of heaviness, imagine yourself surrounded by a sea of White Light: that this light is an ocean of vibrating, omnipotent energy and the foundation of all power in the universe. When the image of the light becomes clearer and more defined, begin to breathe more deeply, visualising that this light is entering your body and filling it from head to toe. Without interrupting your calm breathing, gradually feel as though you were becoming weightless and are being carried by the light, like a child in its mother’s arms. Ensure that you remain in a state of complete relaxation during this process, as tension would negate the beneficial effects of this exercise. Practice this White Light meditation consciously and intentionally whenever your mind is temporarily freed from everyday concerns. You will then not need to practice rejecting unwanted thoughts, and you will experience heightened alertness in all your actions. Try this practice for one month, and then decide whether it was worth it!”
I do not recommend anyone to engage in Eastern (Indian) breathing exercises. Even in the case where someone obtained the correct instructions (which is very difficult), it would be necessary to practice only under the vigilant supervision of an experienced teacher. However, even students from Eastern races, who are more naturally gifted and have more time for this, only rarely achieve the set goal (the attainment of extraordinary powers and abilities), while many others have irreparably damaged their health for life.
Yogic findings and experiences must first be translated into our own concepts and ideas, with proper regard for our mindset and way of life. Only in this way could they be beneficial instead of harmful.
The cultivation of good mood also includes everything related to proper life management, such as balanced nutrition, maintaining intestinal hygiene, physical exercise, etc.. However, in this respect, Czech literature is already quite rich, and therefore we will not deal with these matters here.
Blacks and Suicide. – The significance of controlled thinking. – A lady and her doggy. – Is thought a product of the brain? – Instructions for mastering thoughts. – How to start. – The influence on health. – Luther on thoughts. – The example of a shepherd. – How to deal with tormenting thoughts. – Advice from the Masters. – A Chinese sage. – On clear thinking. – The Old Czech Brethren.
Once I asked an American black man why there is no suicide among black people. He said: “I explain it like this: a white man, when he gets into some trouble, thinks and thinks and thinks about it until his suffering becomes so great that he shoots himself. But a black man, when he gets into trouble, sits down and thinks and thinks and thinks—until he falls asleep. And when he wakes up, everything is different again.”
These are two types of thinking that no one can recommend, even though the black man’s way is a hundred times better than the method of fixating on one’s troubles to the point of killing oneself.
Most bad moods can be eliminated with proper thinking. Controlled and proper thinking means peace, balance, mental strength, mastery over troubles, and the prevention of illness. To command one’s own thoughts is the most beautiful art. To command thoughts is to rise to a higher level. The higher the level, the easier it is for a person to control their thoughts.
But is it even possible for a person to think what they want and not think what they don’t want? After all, people often not only fail to control their own thoughts, but they also cannot resist external thoughts that impose themselves upon them.
If only people would at least accept only thoughts that are valuable, truthful, and noble! But what do we see? They take, for example, a newspaper, read indiscriminately, and fill their minds with rubbish. Someone sits down to breakfast and with every bite of bread swallows a murder. Before finishing their coffee, fifty corpses have passed through their mind. They go out on the street, and someone is shouting: “A big murder, a train collision, eighty injured.” They come to the office or the factory, and someone greets them with the words: “Have you heard about that outrage?”
What would we say if someone threw rubbish into our room through an open window? And yet, isn’t the same thing happening in the realm of thoughts, when someone throws their mental rubbish into our consciousness and subconsciousness, from which bad moods then inevitably arise?
The way some people, instead of engaging in directed thinking, allow themselves to be ruled by undesirable thoughts reminds me of a lady we saw walking with her little doggy. It tugged her here and there, and the lady followed it everywhere. At times, the doggy stood on its hind legs, and the lady pulled and scolded it until it deigned to run to the nearest post. This is unworthy of a person.
If thoughts, as some believe, were products of the brain, it would be nonsensical to speak of commanding thoughts. Just as I cannot command my nails not to grow, I could not command my brain to stop thinking if the brain were its own thinker rather than a tool of the thinker. And since the brain is simply a tool, with patient practice, it is possible to train and control it, like any other physical organ.
It is like this with any tool. Mastering the violin requires persistent practice. Someone may learn without a teacher, but we reach the goal faster if we are guided by someone who is a master themselves.
The fundamental rule in any practice is to approach it patiently and persistently. It is best to begin by observing your own thoughts as if they were the thoughts of someone else. We observe where they come from, what stimuli produced them, why they persist in the mind, whether they are fleeting or persistent; we sort them and evaluate them as something external to ourselves.
Thoughts are usually linked to some emotion, desire, or passion, or to personal interest—in short, to something that also controls a person until they have learned to be the master of their own house. A thought that is unconnected to such attachments can be more easily controlled. For example, someone is ruled by their stomach. If they are hungry and see food nearby that they like, it will be most difficult for them to control thoughts of food. In this case, they would also need to learn to command their stomach. Another person is a passionate smoker. They do not have a cigarette and see someone smoking. Their thoughts revolve around smoking, and they will not be rid of them unless they overcome their passion for smoking.
Someone else is ruled by sexual desire and, under certain circumstances, cannot think of anything other than what revolves around that idol. Someone else’s interest is absorbed in business. Whatever they look at, they evaluate everything from a business perspective. To be able to master one’s thoughts in these and other cases also means mastering one’s strongest interests.
Thoughts usually follow the path of least resistance. Whoever does not want to face any resistance in their life should give up the art of commanding their thoughts, for this is not a clever trick that one can learn in a few hours. It is training in life discipline requiring self-denial, and concerns not only thoughts, but the whole person.
We begin practising first with indifferent thoughts, with something that does not strongly bind us to anything. Whilst doing this, we do not forget that we want to command thoughts and do not want to coddle them.
As a matter of course, I assume that it is necessary to have one's nerves in order. Exhausted, irritated, overstrained, and inadequately nourished nerves can so depress a person that they lack the desire to practice mastering their thoughts. This also relates to good sleep, proper nutrition, the art of calming oneself, and relaxing the muscles. These simple yet profound things make life more pleasant, beautify, and bring joy.
We should not imagine the mastery of thoughts as being something overly difficult. Once a person overcomes the initial difficulties and sincerely desires higher levels of life, commanding thoughts will gradually become a pleasure and will happen with ease.
[Martin] Luther said of thoughts that they are like birds that fly over our heads. We cannot prevent that, but we can prevent them from making a nest on our heads. However, this applies only to the average person. If we command our thoughts, then they should not even fly over our heads. We create, so to speak, a magical circle around us from which undesirable and intrusive thoughts will rebound.
From indifferent thoughts, which can easily be driven away, we move to thoughts that are harder to control. At first, we cannot command them because they impose themselves upon us again and again. But we can interrupt them. We can consciously turn to other thoughts, and in doing so, we have advanced towards mastery over thoughts.
It is well known that no one can be hypnotised if they are being interrupted by a third party. Similarly, no thought can remain permanent if the mind is constantly diverted away from it, thereby interrupting it.
We act like a shepherd who does not want the sheep to continue grazing in a certain place. He moves them elsewhere. In the same way, we relocate our thoughts. This becomes easier the more we practise the art of considering thoughts as something external to our own essence. “I am the creator and master of my thoughts; I will teach them to obey.”
We observe our thoughts like a painter observes colours, a musician tones, or an architect his plans.
If it is undesirable to concern ourselves with any particular thought, then we will all the more strive to rid ourselves of tormenting thoughts. It is not possible for the flame of suffering to remain alight if we do not fuel it with our thoughts. We do not accept a tormenting thought as food to be chewed like chewing gum, but as a grain of sand that has got into a shoe. We stop, remove the shoe, shake out the sand, and move on. Some distressing thoughts stick like pitch to a coat, making them difficult to remove, but we will not care for them or highlight them with our attention. Our motto will be to rid ourselves of them as quickly as possible.
There is an important teaching from one of the Masters:
If we are to deal with thoughts, it is essential to remain strictly objective, to refuse to succumb even to the slightest emotional influence of the intrusive thought; neither to like it nor dislike it, neither to fear it nor desire it. Remain strictly impersonal as an observer; examine the thoughts, use them up, and let them pass. Resisting the intruder is a waste of precious energy, whereas observing it calmly and impersonally as it passes through the mind means ridding oneself of it with the least loss of energy and time. Here the words of the Chinese sage apply:
“Let thoughts arise in your mind without suppressing them and without being carried away by them. A thought that passes, let it go, but also do not allow it to pass through again.” — “Stand strictly separate from this procession of thoughts and remain only an impersonal and calm observer. Do not allow your mind to identify with undesirable intruders, for they are merely creations of your mind and as such are transient and fundamentally unreal.” (It should be noted that the preceding and following instructions pertain exclusively to undesirable thoughts.)
“A little patience in this regard will weaken the power that disrupts concentration, and it will be easier to rid yourself of unwanted thoughts.”
As another Master instructs, it is good to give a certain thought minor attention, as if to say: “Do not interrupt me now; come back at 5 o’clock in the afternoon, and I will attend to you then!”—However, this arrangement must be honoured. If the undesirable thought persists, consider whether it is within your power to act on what the thought concerns. If it is within your power, do it, and thereby resolve it. And when you have done all that is in your power, or when it is not in your power, finally decide that it is none of your concern and that you will no longer think about it.
If, however, the thought pertains to something you have just remembered and intend to address later, make a note of it and return to your chosen subject. To a beginner, this may seem laughable or impossible, but with patience and persistence, a person achieves abilities that surprise him. Prague was not built in a day, and the ability to concentrate and control thoughts is likewise not a matter of a single day.
Simple, joyful, and supremely useful for mastering thoughts is the constant effort to achieve clear thinking and clear ideas.
Let us declare war on hazy thoughts and ideas. Clear thinking is important for forming strong personality and firm character. Only someone who knows what they want can master their thoughts. Whoever does not clearly, precisely, and in detail know what they want will never truly get started, because they walk on crutches. Before someone begins to run, they must know where they want to run; before shooting, they must see the target; before cutting, they must have measured.
Such is the great importance of a clear idea that some psychologists describe willpower simply as focusing attention on a specific idea. Whoever forms a clear idea of what they want, and focuses their attention on it, has already won half the battle for every clear idea contains an active drive, a desire to manifest itself. Every thought is the seed of an action that seeks to be born and waits for the most suitable moment.
Let clear thinking become an unyielding habit. What is unclear to me and what cannot be clarified, I let go. Unclear ideas and thoughts are a burden we drag along without ever being able to use anything from them. A false but clear idea, like a white road through the middle of a forest, is better than eternally crawling through the underbrush of suppositions and half-formed thoughts. It is natural that a person of character will not knowingly harbour evena single false idea. They will always distinguish between what they know and what they do not know. And when they learn something better, they will let the old fall away, being, like the old Czech Brethren, always desirous of better things.
The immense importance of emotions for controlling mood. – Three approaches to emotions: arousal, suppression, regulation. – Causes of failures. – Pioneers and scholars. – On poisons created by anger and fear. – Successful merchants. – The importance of trust. – A child raised in anger and fear. – Love as an enchantress. – Maeterlinck.
Experience proves that the driving force behind human actions is not will-power or intelligence, but emotionality. Furthermore, it has been proven that human happiness does not depend solely on what a person has, but even more on what emotions their possessions evoke in them. Although what a person thinks is important, even more important for human well-being are the emotions that their thoughts evoke.
Regarding illnesses, it is absolutely certain that the most effective remedy is not medicine, but the emotions attached to it: emotions of trust or distrust. And when it comes to the causes of illnesses, we come to realise that almost all internal illnesses are somehow related to disturbed or unbalanced emotionality.
The effectiveness of religious systems depends on their influence on human emotions. Wars are usually initiated and maintained by attacks on emotions, and likewise, all political struggles are games played on the keyboard of human emotions.
One can take one of three stances towards emotions:
1. To inflame and vent one’s emotions and desires at every opportunity that arises. This is what some call “enjoying life.” It is a pursuit of pleasure, starting with crude, sensual pleasures for coarse and base personalities, and progressing to the most refined pleasures sought by the upper ten thousand.
Among those who harm themselves by inflaming their emotions, from a psychological perspective, we must also include anyone who unreservedly surrenders to negative emotions, such as sorrow, grief, or fears of all kinds, thus consuming themselves and kindling their own hell here on earth.
This does not exclude the fact that sorrow and grief sometimes have their justification and can provide a certain release; however, they must not become chronic states. They should remain a kind of spice, occasionally seasoning life to make joys taste better.
2. The second stance one can take towards emotions is suppression. From childhood, we were taught to suppress our emotions. In most cases, this has had very harmful consequences.
There are various ways in which emotions are suppressed. Pretence is also nothing but the suppression of emotions. Someone might think about another person, “I can’t stand the sight of you, you pest,” but with the sweetest smile, they say: “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” With their smile, they suppress the feeling of aversion. Some weep at a graveside, almost dissolving in tears, but inwardly suppress the thought: “If only this charade would end.” At the other extreme, we meet those who force themselves to smile and wave indifferently as if nothing mattered to them, but in their hearts they suppress bile and despair.
There are many unpleasant emotions that a person believes they have dealt with. Meanwhile, they resurface in different, less recognisable forms or intensify other, related emotions. It is quite easy to suppress emotions if a person is emotionally impoverished. For such a person, reason and will can have such dominance that emotion becomes insignificant in comparison. No one should take pride in this state, just as they would not boast about having a missing leg or a poor memory.
In contrast to the emotionally impoverished, there are many who have rich emotional lives and suppress them, which often leads to outbursts or catastrophes, either physical or mental. A catastrophic example of emotional suppression is Nietzsche, who was insane for the last ten years of his life. I reject both unrestrained venting of emotions and their suppression. I consciously differ from both Eastern and Western mindsets; from impractical idealism as well as hedonistic materialism; from Buddhist negation of life as well as false Christian asceticism, which sees the pinnacle of life’s art in renunciation.
It is nothing less than the construction of a life philosophy and world-view that does not suppress emotions but instead cultivates them, strengthens them, and seeks to enrich them. A full, strong, and sunny life is good for us. Against the cultivation of pity, sorrow, fears, and a morality of worms, I set positive emotions—emotions that I consider to be the only healthy expression of the divine principle within us.
Emotions must be guided, controlled, and directed to become the driving forces of a joyful and successful life.
Even the most emotionally impoverished person has enough emotional life within them to live in happiness, to double it if they have any, and, if they have none, to build it gradually. A poor person is doubly poor if they do not know how to live, and the wealth of a rich person adds nothing to them if their soul is torn and their emotional life is miserable.
Failure in emotional life most commonly arises from rushing, being carried away by emotions, or not deciding quickly enough.
If someone is predominantly a rational type, and their critical nature and caution dominate over emotions and will-power, they often find it difficult to make timely and decisive decisions. Their reasoning always carries some doubt or objections. Such a person remains a philosopher in the corner. Their light stays hidden under a pot-lid. Only after others have done what they had had in their mind, they just brush it off with a weak wave of their hand, to show they already knew it too. Such a person needs to cultivate a certain courage to take risks, courage to make mistakes or end in failure. He who does not take a gamble does not win. A person must necessarily find a balance between reason and emotion.
I knew a young man who had great knowledge, but he always said that he still didn’t know enough, that in one thing or another there was some doubt. The older and more knowledgeable he became, the more doubts he found—until he turned into a mental weakling, incapable of decisive action. I knew another man who realised that there are people who know a little less than he does, and that he could benefit them. And he benefited many through his courage and decisiveness. He who knows much is a wretch if he has not cultivated energy and courage proportionate to his knowledge and experience.
If we look at social groups, we find the weakest pioneers of ideas among scholars and professors, because they know so much and can easily find objections to everything. Exceptions, of course, can be found everywhere.
For someone who controls their emotionality well, their emotions are like a strong team of horses to a coachman. They never let go of the reins for a moment, and when it’s time to go, they give the command, pull the reins, and move forward. Looking back at my own life, I am certain that I would have been in a miserable state if, before making any decision, I had always waited until I had no doubts at all about the outcome. But equally, I would have achieved far more if I had often decided more quickly and not worried so much about difficulties and struggles.
There are primarily two instinctive emotions that we cultivate to our own detriment. If their strength were directed towards useful goals, they would significantly enhance our productivity. These are fear and anger.
Someone unfamiliar with recent biological discoveries about the connection between certain glands and the mental states of humans would be surprised how complex the activity of many organs caused by fear can be. To increase the activity of blood circulation, internal organs, and muscles, so that a person or animal can flee faster and escape imminent danger, a poison called adrenaline is produced in the glands. The amount of this poison typically corresponds to the intensity of feelings of fear. In primitive humans, fear was linked to great physical exertion, such as running away from danger. However, if there is no running involved—when the excess dose of adrenaline is burned off and sweated out—this slight excess causes disorders, seeds of illnesses, or even death.
From this, we conclude that fear was relevant only in primitive times when salvation lay in flight, as it does today for mice or hares. Fear has no place where there is no fleeing involved, where calm judgment, vigilance, composure, or decisive action would suffice.
Reflecting on these facts, let us recall the place fear occupies in our lives: fear before conception, fear before birth, fear of death; fear of school, fear of exams, fear of a teacher in training, fear of unemployment, a man’s fear of not marrying or a woman’s fear of not being married, fear that someone will lure her away; fear taking a wife, fear of having a large family, fear up to death and even beyond the grave!
There is a fight against alcoholism, and rightly so, and against other “isms,” and rightly so; but it is time to start a fight against infections and poisons such as fear. Let us eliminate fear from families, schools, and public life, and instead of fear, let us teach the cultivation of courage, vigilance, and quick judgment—and in an instant, we will have rid humanity of one of its greatest evils.
Anger also produces poisons in our body that increase the capacity for physical struggle. However, if these toxins are not expelled during the struggle, they remain in the body, poisoning it and causing various pathological conditions. The old world was built on anger and fear. We teach children not only to fear but also to be angry; if not through words, then by example. A child who was beaten in anger becomes infected with anger, which it may suppress but also anticipates the day when it will grow up and compensate by pouring out its anger on someone weaker.
I do not judge those who cannot yet live without fear and anger. Few people have reached this level of maturity, even though Christ already said: “Whoever is angry with his brother will face judgment.” (Mt 5:22)
Against the most destructive forces, fear and anger, let us set the two most beneficial forces that have never disappointed anyone who has understood them and chosen them as life’s guides instead of fear and anger. These are trust and love.
I have studied the ways of successful travellers, merchants, and in general, people who have been successful in dealing with others. I have never found among them a sour nitpicker who, before speaking to someone, would cast mistrustful glances filled with vinegar and bitter wormwood at everyone. Nor have I found among them anyone who approached others in a hunched and shuffling way as if begging for mercy, questioning their right still to be called a human being. A person who has trust in us meets us naturally and speaks with such ease, as though everything had already been settled and agreed upon before even being discussed.
If I trust a person, if I approach them with the awareness that we both have the same red blood and that each has a heart beating in their chest, not in their head or shoe, it does not mean, of course, that I immediately open wide my house and wallet to them and surrender myself entirely to their mercy. And if we happened to trust someone more than was wise, and suffered harm from it, is it conceivable that excessive trust caused more harm than all angers and fears combined?
Let us take the example of a child who was not raised in fear and anger: how boldly and trustingly it speaks with neighbours, with animals, with its parents, with everyone—you feel its trust and cannot help but return it honestly. As the saying goes: “What you call into the forest, the forest echoes back to you.”
No one can fully express how immense and indomitable is the power of love, the greatest enchantress of humanity, the most inaccessible magical force for winning people and achieving success!
How many frozen hearts there are, longing to be warmed at least by a word or a sincere look of love! But because they themselves have never felt the beneficial effect of its warming ray, they spread their cold, frosty atmosphere and cause a contagion of lovelessness.
What a sad sight is a young, strong person who walks about like a dormant volcano, trusting no one and loving no one sincerely. It is no wonder that they project the emptiness of their soul onto the entire world and see in it nothing worth sacrifice or effort. Maeterlinck said it well:
“Whoever speaks of happiness, does he not encourage it? Whoever utters the name of happiness daily, does he not call it forth? Is it not the beautiful duty of the happy to make others happy? It is certain that one can learn to live a happy life, and quite easily at that? If we are in the company of people who praise their lives, will we not soon also begin to bless ours? Smiles are just as contagious as tears. Has not even the mere memory of meeting someone who had the courage to consider themselves happy lifted our spirits?”
At the gates of our hearts, over time, various predators have been stationed, preventing the queen of love from stepping out of her enchanted castle within our soul. These predators are envy, criticism, slander, jealousy, greed, social pride, and other such beasts that have barricaded our hearts, preventing its noblest forces from being released and set free.
Why the primitive man was afraid. – Discovery of the effects of fear. – When a person is most afraid. – How a tree stump cured stammering. – Why pioneers are fearless. – The influence of love on courage. – The effects of ideals. – Two worlds and two interests. – What constituted the invincibility of the Stoics. – The universe is not hostile. – Why we should not fear.
Today, many people are fearful, but primitive people were worse off. They lived in caves, and every shadow frightened them. They roamed deep forests, and at any moment, a wild animal could pounce on a weaker human.
The primitive man was afraid out of ignorance. He feared the dark because he did not know what might be lurking in it. Storms and lightning, air, water, and earth—all, in his imagination, were hostile forces dwelled.
Science has taught man to discover the laws of forces governing nature. It taught man how to master them and adapt to them so that they would become his servants. We capture lightning with a lightning conductor, illuminate the darkness with a lightbulb, traverse the seas with steamships, and the skies with airplanes.
The harmful effects of fear have also been discovered. We know with certainty that fear creates poisons in the human body, and conversely, certain poisons provoke fear.
It will still take a long time to cure diseases rooted in fear, and we must harness all our strength and use all our knowledge to render fear harmless.
In the fight against fear, physical health plays the foremost role. A healthy person resists fear more easily than someone who is sickly and anaemic. It has been determined that courage is at its lowest point when physical strength is also at its weakest. People are most afraid between three and four o’clock in the morning. This fear is not usually caused by darkness, but by reduced vitality of the body, slower heartbeat, more sluggish blood circulation, and slower thinking.
Next, mental resilience matters. Some people live in constant fear of losing their dignity, of being diminished in the eyes of others by a glance or a remark, whether made directly or behind their back.
I worked with a highly intelligent man who suffered from pathological stage fright. This caused facial twitches and stammering in his speech. I asked him, whether he twitches and stammers when addressing a dog? He smiled and replied: “Certainly not!” I advised him to try speaking to a tree stump in the forest, to see if he experienced facial twitching and stammering while doing so. He tried it and was astonished at how naturally he could speak to the stump. I explained the cause: “When you face someone above you, you fear whether you will behave properly. And if someone below you, you fear whether you will compromise yourself before them.”
There is no need to underestimate oneself. It is enough if we can say to ourselves: I am a human being; who is greater than that? Or: I’m a lord, you’re a lord! Among the beautiful arts of life is the ability to laugh at oneself.
And if someone is aware that they have a particular mission—to break down walls of falsehood and pave the way for new truths, to stand as a rock in the middle of a stream where the waters must part to the right or to the left; if no one can remain indifferent when encountering them—they must either agree or oppose, love or hate, help or hinder, praise or condemn. To such a person, we need not say: Don’t be afraid; don’t let it bother you! Such a person would be a poor pioneer of the spirit if they constantly looked left and right to see what others said or who approved of what. To such a person applies this:
někdo láskou, někdo zlobou,
počastuje duši tvou,
ale nikdo nehne tebou,
hromem ani lichotkou.
some with love, some with anger,
will treat your soul,
but no one will move you,
with thunder or flattery.
If a person wants to overcome fear, they will find a rare help in great love. To love someone is to forget oneself and become indifferent to one’s own danger. We see this in the case of a frail mother who, in fighting for her child, knows no fear, throws herself into danger, and sacrifices her life. This is true of all great love, in families, among friends, and especially among those united by shared efforts and ideals.
I admit that someone, precisely because of their love for another, may fear even more. But true love inspires courage. And where there is courage, there is no fear. The apostle John already said that “there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. And he who fears is not perfected in love.” (1 John 4:18)
Devotion to some ideal also helps in overcoming fear. To find meaning in life, what is needed, is some work in which a person expresses the best of what they are. We must identify with something that is higher and more enduring than our physical being. And in this realm of broader existence, fear disappears. How else could we explain the heroism of explorers of new worlds, conquerors of new scientific fields, fighters for human rights and freedom, and such rare heretics as [Jan] Hus?
Another rule for overcoming fear is to live with the awareness that we are spiritual beings. We live in a world of physical and material interests and pleasures. But in this world, we are most easily and deeply wounded. We derive pleasures from the body, but the body can be hurt, it can suffer, perish, and ultimately must die. We depend on money, but it can be stolen, lose value, or scatter away. Some people live solely for wealth, which in the end becomes devalued or destroyed before their eyes. Ultimately, everyone must relinquish everything physical and material, no matter how diligently they guard it. It is no wonder, then, that people in such a world are unhappy and fearful. But this world is not the only world. Another world is open to us: the world of the spirit. Not spiritualism, but spirit. It is the world of higher emotions and ideals, the world of creative abilities, intellectual endeavours, moral goals, grand visions, and ideals, the world of devotion and noble efforts.
The best sons and daughters of our land have found strength and peace in this world. In this world, they became immune to the sufferings to which the body is exposed.
It was precisely the recognition of the spirit of man, in contrast to his body, his inner will in relation to the external world, that once made the Stoics invincible masters of their fate.
“How must a person be prepared to endure hardships?” asks Epictetus. “Certainly in this way: he must ask himself: what is mine, and what is not mine? ... I am to be imprisoned: but must I also lament? I am to be exiled: can anyone prevent me from going with a smile, good cheer, and tranquillity?”
“But we will chain you.”
“What do you mean, my friends, that you will chain me? You can chain my legs; but my will—not even God (Zeus) can chain!”
“We will imprison you!”
“Do you mean my piece of flesh?”—“Here you see,” continues Epictetus, “the outcome of training, of what training ought to be: a will that can choose to act or not act, so disciplined that nothing in the world can overcome it... Cleanse your own heart, cast out from your mind pain, desire, envy, ill will, greed, cowardice, uncontrolled passion ... Then, who can hinder you, who can compel you? You will be as free as God himself!”
The universe is not hostile to us and does not aim for our destruction. We only need to understand it better. It is our broader existence, the source from which the stream of our life flows, the mystery of our will to live, the goal of our distant desires, and our inheritance. Knowing this, we shall not know fear, and our hearts cannot be controlled by dread. We stand on foundations that cannot be shaken. We are permeated by forces that are cosmic and seek to be used by us.
Air can be relied upon if we know how to control it. Water becomes our pleasure when we feel at home in it. Electricity accompanies us, lights us, and serves us when we befriend it. And good cheer will enter our being when we come to understand our inner selves.
In place of fear, we need patience and perseverance, bold courage, and a joyful disposition, for the universe is on our side, the stars shine for us, and the earth belongs to our God.
Even if the entire world were full of devils and bloodthirsty beasts, even if hardship like a flood rose to the highest peaks around us, even if our body were broken, we would not fear, knowing that we are more than the body. For us, the biblical word applies: “Do not fear! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; when through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire, you will not be burned, and the flames will not consume you—for I am with you!” Let us recall one more rule for overcoming fear. It is the awareness of our eternal nature, the cultivation of which frees us from fear. We are part of the Eternal (Věčné), and where we are, there is the universe; and from where we came, there the universe remains.
How to deal with pain effectively. – Why willpower and tension are not the solution. – Two harmful types of emotions. – On unhealthy compassion. – An example from a hospital. – What happens when a person suppresses emotions inside. – How to tune oneself in the morning.
Generally, the prevailing opinion is that we can defend against or weaken pain by exerting all our strength. Sometimes, this method brings a certain relief, but then comes a reaction, which is more harmful to the nerves than the original pain.
According to doctors’ experience, a patient who best controls the external manifestations of pain often ends up being the greatest sufferer due to the reaction that follows after forcibly restraining themselves.
And since there is so much pain in the world, and there is no one who could guarantee that they won’t encounter more than one pain in life, let us try to find the best way to endure it with the least harm, if not with benefit.
The more we strain our nerves to endure a certain pain, the more sensitive and irritated they become, and the more intensely we feel the pain we wanted to suppress by force.
According to the law of relaxation, it is recommended in the case of pain to do the exact opposite of what is usually done: not the tensing of nerves, but their relaxation. The more we reduce the tension in our nerves, the shorter the duration of our pain. Whatever consequences we bear will be only the consequences of the pain itself, and not, as is usually the case, the consequences of the tension with which we tried to overcome the pain.
Someone might object and ask whether the effort to relax the nerves isn’t also exhausting to the nerves. Yes, to a certain extent, it is. But much less so than the persistent tension required to overcome pain. And most importantly: it leaves no unpleasant after-effects; on the contrary, it strengthens us and sheds new light on the path ahead.
The best example of how one should not behave is seen at the dentist. Most people cling to the chair rigidly, clench their shoulders, press their legs against the chair, and strain in various ways, as if this would somehow make the procedure easier and less painful. Meanwhile, the patient increases their pain with this unnecessary tension.
We typically increase nervous tension in two ways: by straining our will to overcome pain, and by fear of pain. Fear greatly increases the tension in the nerves and muscles. However, if we relax the muscles, we simultaneously reduce nervous tension, and thus fear as well.
It is possible to calm oneself in two ways: internally and externally. Through the internal way, the mind relaxes; through the external way, the muscles relax. With continued practise, we find a certain equilibrium that reduces and soothes every pain.
Mental and physical relaxation works somewhat like a narcotic, except without the slightest harmful after-effects.
Instead of the usual fear and the tension associated with it, we should completely relax, as if we were undergoing an electric treatment making our body tingle – now gently, now more intensely. Pain is a vibration of a certain kind, and it could well be compared to a stream of tremors running through our nerves. If we contract our muscles to block the flow of pain out of fear and through tense will-power, this stream intensifies and bursts through with greater force, leaving behind injury and distress.
If, instead of tensing our muscles and nerves, and resisting pain, we relax our nerves and muscles and meet the pain by allowing it to pass freely, the stream of painful vibrations will indeed pass more quickly, with less harm, and cause less injury than if we tried to resist it.
The most suffering is endured by people influenced by emotions that are suggested to them and are then exaggerated by their imagination.
If someone were to try to snatch away another person’s exaggerating emotional lens, they would greatly upset them and would receive little gratitude. Everyone must examine and inspect themselves, and the longer they have worn such lenses, the more patiently they must examine themselves.
There are two kinds of emotions that most often afflict people: false religious emotion and false devotion. Both these emotions must be distinguished from true emotions.
A genuine emotion, whether painful or pleasant, leaves behind a new reserve of strength. A false emotion leaves its victims weakened, both physically and mentally, and often intensifies their internal imbalance. Thus, it happens that the greatest forces of spiritual life—religion and love—when misunderstood, can lead to unhealthy and highly harmful conditions.
I have had many opportunities in life to observe people who provoked themselves with false religious emotions in much the same way that an alcoholic excites themselves with alcohol. That these emotions were unhealthy could be recognised by the gossiping, vindictiveness, quarrelsomeness, anger, sometimes stinginess, arrogance, and other vices of these individuals.
Meanwhile, they intensified the feelings of their presumed sanctity and superiority to the skies. Few of their religious concepts were in harmony with reason or real life; we wonder how this is possible. However, we cease to wonder when we realise that everything they read and hear is calculated to evoke feelings of emotion. As a result, especially in people with strong emotional tendencies or weak characters, great emotional sensitivity sometimes arises, even to the point of sentimentality, that predisposes them to undesirable states.
People of this type, when they become nervous, melancholic, or mentally ill, are particularly difficult to treat.
Let us declare war on all unhealthy emotionalism. Let us not succumb to feelings merely for the sake of enjoyment. Every feeling should have a practical core that makes us more resilient to the shocks of life’s rough journey.
Equally harmful is the hysteria of emotional devotion, which raves and goes mad over a beloved object today—and tomorrow turns against it to hate it or to pursue it with hysterical attachment.
We would offend such a person if we said that their devotion is not true devotion, that they are only in love with their own feelings.
It is an immense gain if someone realises in time their false emotionalism, calms their nerves through spending time in nature, serious work, or repeated relaxation of all muscles and nerves.
It is a sad sight to see a nervous wreck who, for months and years, has been tormented by false feelings and cannot understand their state, or recover.
No less harm is caused by emotional irritation arising from unhealthy sympathies. Some people think, figuratively speaking, that when their friend lies in the mud, they must lie there with them. And if their friend is in it waist-deep, they want to demonstrate their sympathy by plunging in up to their neck. If my friend is suffering great distress, it is not necessary for me to endure the distress with them, lament alongside them, and wring my hands before I help them.
There are many people who, when they are drowning, and we offer them a rope that we are holding tightly at one end, want us to let go of the rope and go down with them into their depths of pain; only then will they let themselves be pulled out.
Sympathy that exhausts us instead of giving us greater strength is false, even if it makes the most beautiful impression.
The following case illustrates this well. A young man was brought to the hospital. His injuries presented a heart-wrenching sight. The nurses were just having lunch, and out of sympathy for the injured man, they lost their appetite and put down their spoons. This was observed by the head nurse, a gentle and intelligent woman. With all her love and eloquence, she spoke to them: “So, out of pure sympathy for him, you will remain hungry, weakened, and incapable of providing him with substantial help and proper care? What benefits him more, your uncontrolled emotions or your strength?” And then they ate, strengthened themselves, and went to perform their work of mercy.
Of course, they could also have eaten their lunch without any compassion, out of simple callousness, which arises when someone has been doing such work for a long time in a mechanical way. Thus, there is a difference between healthy sympathies, in which we feel more authentically than anyone else but do not exhaust ourselves unnecessarily, and sympathies
in which a person loses their head and exhausts themselves needlessly, just to show how much they empathise with everything.
True sympathy is best cultivated by calming oneself, relaxing muscles and nerves, especially in times and circumstances when others are agitated and wasting essential energy.
I saw a woman who, with the best intentions, gave all her energy and time to a beloved person, so much so that everyone had to admire her. But she did it with such tension in her nerves, and under such terrible mental pressure, as if her task was not to help and relieve but to feel all the pains and fears alongside that person.
In my life, I have often had the opportunity to comfort someone who was overwhelmed with pain and sorrow over the death of a loved one. From some, I sensed that they considered their grief to be a kind of moral and social obligation—partly so that people wouldn’t gossip about them, and partly so that the deceased wouldn’t think they hadn’t been loved. I say: short-term grief is natural and appropriate, but prolonged grief is a sickness. Prolonged and excessive sorrow damages health, poisons, harms, but benefits no one. Whoever truly wishes for us to suffer is not worthy of our suffering. And as for people who can only be pleased by seeing us wear a sad face, we can safely remain indifferent to them.
Nač ty smutky v duši skrýváš, nač ten žal a bol?
Sluníčko si za průvodce žitím zvol.
Uvolni své nitro celé, celý duše chrám:
zasvěcuj je denně slunným myšlenkám.
Why do you hide sorrows in your soul, why the grief and pain?
Choose the sun as your guide through life.
Free your whole being, the whole temple of your soul:
Dedicate it daily to sunny thoughts.
Not only are false feelings a poorly directed force, but so are emotions that a person suppresses within themselves. Some people are far from being able to help others, and that is precisely the cause of all their illnesses. They are like a boiler full of steam, which has nothing to drive, and therefore shakes the entire boiler and could cause it to burst. At the moment they found work where they could dedicate themselves to someone, their health would return. It is also peculiar that patients often give the impression of being full of health, whilst in fact, they are gravely ill.
I remember an older girl who was a nervous invalid. She did nothing but let herself be waited on. As soon as she chose a task that gave her life higher meaning and purpose, she recovered.
For some, the imbalance is caused by a lack of work in which they can express themselves. For others, it is caused by too many small worries and irritations. In this regard, perhaps our housewives suffer the most.
We do best when we adopt the right attitude to everything that may come, starting in the morning immediately upon waking. Let us choose the motto: I will face everything with calm, humour, and a good mood. Our nerves are not meant to be burdened with worries, anger, and sorrows. Let us learn to tune them like the strings of a violin—neither overstretching them nor leaving them slack. Let us find their proper tone—and then, with our thoughts like a bow, lightly move over them and play the most beautiful song of our lives!
For physical labour, muscles are meant; for controlling the muscles, nerves are meant; and thoughts are for figuring out what to do, not for tormenting ourselves.
Nalaď své starosti
na vlnu věčnosti,
okoušej mír!
Tune your worries
to the waves of eternity,
taste peace!
While tuning ourselves, let us not forget, we are not alone in life. If we calm ourselves and pay attention, we will hear a gentle voice, like a breeze from other worlds: it will be the voice of our own soul, if it is in harmony with the Infinite (Nekonečné).
Various kinds of joys and sorrows. – How a pessimistic philosophy arises. – The role of religion. – The influence of joy on glands, digestion, blood circulation, and muscles. – The healing effect of joy. – A hymn to laughter by Horace Traubel. – Education. – How to deal correctly with suffering. – On sorrow in particular. – On further sources of joy.
There is joy that is quiet, like a forest stream, and joy that is wild, like a Himalayan waterfall. There is sober joy, like an ordinary day when, only for brief moments, sunlight flashes through the clouds. And there is intoxicating joy when a person feels like only shouting, singing, and embracing the entire world. There is noble, generous, good-hearted, and shared joy; and in contrast, there is harmful joy, filled with the germs of selfishness. There is fleeting joy, like the gossamer threads of an Indian summer, scarcely glimpsed before it vanishes again; and there is joy that resonates in the soul for a long time, leaving behind a beautiful memory. There are a thousand kinds of joy, and each one is coloured differently.
Meanwhile, ancient sorrows move through the world. Some are rooted so deeply in the subconscious that a person doesn’t even know where they come from. It is as though they flow through the entire body and every drop of blood, meet us on every path, scowl at us from the clouds, and weep at us in the dew.
There are sorrows that a person endures but wishes to get rid of. And there are sorrows that people cherish; sorrows that would have long since died of starvation had they not been fed with new memories.
Sorrow and worry are siblings. One person worries because they didn’t earn enough, another because they don’t earn anything at all. Some worry because someone died, others because someone hasn’t died yet or might die. Someone worries that they weren’t praised enough, another because they are being gossiped about.
What is the use of such worries? Only as much as one scoops from this dismal well and what kind of drink they brew from it—bitter or sweet, or one that they let cool and then pour away.
Joy usually comes to us in small fragments, in fleeting moments—joy over things that change every day. Joy from success or friendship, whether of a sportsman or entrepreneur, an artist or scientist, a street vendor or a capitalist magnate.
There is nothing I like to write about more than joy—how to multiply it, how to banish sorrows, and how to cheer someone up. That’s why I love children so much—they are always ready to laugh, provided, of course, if they are healthy.
A sad, pessimistic philosophy, just like a gloomy, morose religion, never comes from healthy people. It has always been individuals afflicted by some mental or physical illness who invented systems of thought steeped in world-weariness. Because of their hardened livers, withered kidneys, weak stomachs, or unbalanced minds, ordinary people have to coexist with ideas proclaimed as infallible. A love-disillusioned and embittered old bachelor takes on the pose of a prophet with an unhealthy view of life, teaching vigorous, life-filled youth how to live so as to be happy!
The touchstone of higher religion is its ability to remove fear, lead one out of sorrows, and heal one from illnesses. The more joy, healing atmosphere, mutual empathy, and awakening of all good forces within a person, the more there is of true religion, regardless of how much is spoken about God.
Religion, if true, must shine, warm, and awaken us to life. The ancient wisdom in the biblical book of Proverbs says: “A merry heart does good like medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones.” (Proverbs 17:22) No matter how many new medicines people invent, the best remedy remains cheerfulness, and the greatest killer of people is sadness and fear.
Cheerfulness pays off; it has the most beneficial effect on the health of both body and soul. I have in mind, of course, qualified cheerfulness, which at its core is moral and uplifting.
The enemies of cheerfulness, and thus of mental and physical health, are sadness, worries, anxiety, distrust, and dissatisfaction. Every complex that forms in our subconscious is tinged with one of these moods.
A cheerful, joyful, pleasant mood is the most effective elixir of life, which awakens to vigorous activity those organs and functions of our body that work most to restore strength and maintain health and youthfulness.
The more I study the functions and composition of the human organism in connection with all of life, the more I become convinced that a person is made for joy, love, and hope. In any other atmosphere, they wither, perish, and die.
It would, therefore, be desirable to establish centres for cultivating good cheer. These would initially be intended for those mentally burdened and for those who could not recover through any other medicine. The primary effort there would be directed at fostering good cheer, at creating an atmosphere filled with love, where breathing is free, where laughter rings, where rays of light shine from sunlit faces, where a person trusts in the God present within themselves. Miracles would happen there. The only time a sad face would be seen is when someone had to leave, now deemed strong and capable enough to spread health and cheer out into the world.
A cheerful mood influences glandular activity. To maintain vitality and health, glands must secrete in a certain quantity and quality. All of this is supported by good cheer.
Cheerfulness has an even greater influence on digestion. Tastefully prepared and delicious meals do not influence the activity of gastric juices any more than a cheerful spirit does. No spice is as effective as that mixed with cheerfulness. Of the early Christians, it is written in the Bible that they took their bread with joy, with a cheerful spirit. (Acts 2:46) On the other hand, worry constricts the throat, tightens the stomach, and dries up all juices.
Furthermore, cheerfulness positively affects blood circulation. There is a saying that a person is as old as their arteries. The health of the arteries depends on blood pressure. Excessive exuberance is, of course, not the ideal cheerfulness being discussed here. The face is the best indicator of the proper level of cheerfulness; as long as the features remain noble, it has not gone too far.
The impact of a cheerful mood on muscle function was something I observed in a certain woman. Although large and strong, her legs hurt whenever she walked. She could not lift anything, complained of heart weakness, and underwent countless medical treatments, wore various belts, and required specially crafted shoes—all to no avail. She often said, “If only I didn’t have to be so angry with the children, if only my husband were worth something, if only I could at least find a decent servant,” and so on.
I discovered that this woman remained in a state of agitation from morning till night, carrying the burden of her own worries—most of them unnecessary—and on top of that, the troubles of the entire neighbourhood. It wasn’t easy to bring her to self-awareness, but in the end we were successful. A few strong, often-repeated suggestions served as the beginning. Once she became convinced that her salvation lay in a cheerful mood, she awakened all her sources of humour, abandoned her old, complaining, and irritable way of life, began each day with a song, and went to bed with smiles on her face. She could run again, lift burdens, eat with gusto, walk in ordinary shoes, and the ill-tempered features disappeared from her face, so that in a short time, she was unrecognisable.
I know of a man who wanted to despair over countless injustices and misunderstandings, but he overcame himself and said:
“I have decided to laugh. Whatever tears have achieved, laughter can achieve too—and far more. Not because cheerfulness is a harmless weapon. Certainly not. Cheerfulness is the most formidable weapon. My enemy may withstand my seriousness. But my laughter will conquer him. — I had the choice of weapons. I chose cheerfulness. Cheerfulness reaches much further than despair. — Cheerfulness has never stumbled. It knows no old age; it never looks back. It is always tied to today and tomorrow. — Cheerfulness is philosophy. It renounces small gains in favour of greater ones. I see thieves mocking your tearful pursuit. But if you watch closely, you’ll see them surrender to my laughing invitation. Laughter penetrates the muscles of your arms. It flows through your veins. It strengthens your mind. It lends your love effectiveness. Just laughter. Just a song. When I came to the crossroads, I chose cheerfulness. From that moment, I have had sunlight on my path. And ahead of me, I can see the clear blue sky.”
Laughter does not need to be frivolous, nor does it have to be mocking, nor does it exclude depth of thought and feeling. On the contrary, history confirms that there has never been a genius without a sense of humour. In this sense, let us also understand the following hymns to laughter by Horace Traubel in his Awakening from Sleep:
“I want to laugh. Do not misunderstand me. Laugh. Why should I let this struggle ruin my good mood? Do you think a good mood is a weakness? Pay attention! Watch and see if I ever falter in my good mood! Don’t you know that the most ruthless weapons are hidden in laughter? A whole sea stands behind my laughter. And my laughter will crush all pirates. I want to be cheerful. With a song on my lips, I want to go into battle. That won’t harm the fight—it will help me. And for the sake of this campaign, I do everything that can help me. With my laughter, I can destroy ten thousand mockers. A well-aimed laugh will bring down the city walls. No injustice can withstand honest laughter. I hate to see fearful revolutionaries. To such people, I say: ‘You belong in another camp.’ I like to see a revolutionary marching forward with a light step. Yes, also with a light heart. Just as if everything might be fulfilled tomorrow. As if it had all been fulfilled today. For a person of pure spirit, the ideal becomes truth the moment it arises. A true person never keeps an ideal waiting. He seizes it. He holds on to it tightly. It is no effort for him to cling to his ideal. Instead, his ideal must exert great effort to keep up with him. He sings. He is happy. Life approaches him with open arms.”
Some educators emphasise that children need to experience suffering so they don’t become overly sensitive. I disagree with this. I am convinced that we should lead children towards a joyful life rather than a complaining and self-pitying one. With laughter, a person gets along better than with tears; with a relaxed mind and cheerful mood, one manages life better than with expectations of failure and disappointment.
Suffering can be measured in two ways. Pessimists can weigh it, analyse it, and compare it to other forms of suffering—dwelling on how heavy it feels, what it resembles, and then building a monument to it with countless sighs, lamentations, tears, and expressions of bitterness at fate. Or we can measure our suffering by the shadow it casts behind us when we stand in the sun. Our humour cleanses our past sufferings, like the graves of the forgotten are allowed to be left with the wish: rest in peace! Let’s not erect any monuments to our suffering, bring it no wreaths of sympathy, nor play it any funeral dirges; let it perish unnoticed, deprived of nourishment from our unnecessary memories and attentions!
To overcome troubles and sorrows, it is very helpful to realise that nothing in the world is permanent—neither sorrow nor trouble. When we tell our sorrow this with sufficient conviction, it will begin to retreat.
Sorrow and troubles can be dealt with in three ways. Either we give them free rein to torment us, let them settle in our emotions and linger pleasantly. Or we can realise that every sorrow is the shadow of some joy—either the joy we’ve already had, for which we should be grateful, or the joy that could come later, for which we can prepare the way so that it grows out of the sorrow. Or – and this is the wisest choice – we remain indifferent to sorrows and troubles.
One acquaintance of mine broke his leg. He had three choices. Either he could fret and complain about his broken leg and how long the healing would take; or he could rejoice that he hadn’t broken both legs; or he could calmly do whatever was needed to help the fracture heal quickly. He chose the last option.
Sorrow is like a plant. It is just as real and has roots, a stem, leaves, and sometimes even an intoxicating fragrance. And just as a flower can be transplanted, so can sorrow. It is also possible to make it an object of observation outside oneself. The more we distance ourselves from it, the more it loses its strength and cannot make us unhappy.
Life, as it unfolds daily, is like miniature painting. It consists of many small joys and worries, sorrows and angers, smiles and little tears. And depending on the meaning a person finds in their life and what their inclinations are, so too will be the meaning of their joys and sorrows, their angers and friendships.
Some masters of spiritual life have a small room dedicated solely to meditation, to turning inward, and to becoming aware of the presence of the spiritual world. For them, it is a spiritual bath, where they wash away the dust of everyday life from their soul, sweep away from their threshold all the sorrows, angers, and troubles of the day, and let a spring of pure joy from life flow forth—a life that is eternal, that cannot dry up, and that always strengthens and uplifts them anew.
We, who do not have such small rooms, must find a way to substitute for them, steal a moment, insist on peace, and build around ourselves a spiritual wall to shield us in advance from the onslaughts of troubling influences and thoughts.
An abundant source of joy is hope. It is made for everyday life. In the morning, when the sky is overcast, we say: it will clear up again. When the sun sets and it seems that eternal night has come, hope says: who can prevent the sun from rising again? Hope reaches beyond the grave and beyond all the miseries that may still come, reaching to the day of the great redemption of creation, when love and fellowship, joy and peace, goodness and only goodness will celebrate perfect and lasting victory in the presence of all who worked for them.
Among the most abundant sources of joy are the noble and beautiful life-ideals that we have fallen in love with and strive to realise. However, let us not serve our ideals merely for pleasure. Let us pursue them for their intrinsic value, beauty, and nobility.
Nothing brings greater disappointment than when a person values everything solely based on how it serves the attainment of pleasure. If we seek anything in the world purely for enjoyment, we are already depriving ourselves in advance of the joy that could come from it.
A certain miser heard a story about how much joy his acquaintance experienced by buying a bag full of nuts and apples and distributing them to children in a poor neighbourhood. The miser envied him and also wanted to experience something special. He searched for the cheapest nuts and apples, bought the worst ones, grumbled a bit while haggling, and then went to a poor neighbourhood. On the way, he met a debtor who refused to pay him, which made him angry again. Then he saw two boys and went towards them, but they ran away from him. He showed them the apples and nuts, but they thought he was trying to lure them somewhere. Finally, he managed to gather a group of children and started distributing the apples and nuts — and when no joy came to him and everything seemed rather unpleasant, he finally said to himself: I don’t understand how anyone can find joy in giving; I find no pleasure in it at all.
I was called to a factory where I received a very generous fee for selecting apprentices, workers, and clerks. I cannot say that I did not enjoy the work, however, I experienced ten times more joy in the same week when I spent an entire day for free comforting the sorrowful, reviving the desperate, and providing suggestions to the sick. Why did it please me more? Because it was closer to my life-ideals. Happiness is found not in seeking happiness but in a life-ideal to which we devote ourselves and which, in itself, brings happiness.
The natural order is such that a person must continually go beyond themselves to fulfil something or dedicate themselves to something greater.
If joy, pleasure, and happiness are our life-ideals, we should be prepared for disappointment. But if some noble ideal is our joy, we should be prepared for pleasure, for whether we work for that ideal or suffer for it, whether we endure hardships or gain something from it, it is always connected with joy and pleasure.
Another observation about joy is the fact that goodness and nobility never exclude joy. True goodness is recognisable precisely in that it brings joy, that it delights.
True goodness must be the expression of a life-ideal that becomes second nature to us. And every work and effort aimed at expressing or achieving a life-ideal is connected with joy because something divine is released in the process, making us happy. It is as if we were helping God in his constant self-expression.
Joy that stems from incidental, instinctual or sensory pleasure is like a soap bubble; it lasts only a moment. But joy rooted in a life-ideal is like a fruit tree with deep roots, which always bears fruit and continually renews its strength from its roots.
In the case of ideal joy, we are never so content with anything that we wouldn’t want it to be better. We do not lull ourselves into indifference regarding the world’s order around us, as if it were just, and we do not say: As long as I am well off, I don’t care what happens next. In this sense, we are eternal malcontents, revolutionaries of the spirit.
However, if we are wise, we do not let discontent penetrate our minds and nerves in such a fashion, that we are not able to repair them. In the depths of our soul, we remain calm.
So: we do not grieve that the world is not better, nor do we cry because people still steal, deceive one another, and make life bitter. We gain nothing by this. We do not expect a stone to float like a duck while it remains a stone. We do not curse that a thorn pricks and is not a rose. We take the world, people, and circumstances as they are.
Someone once prayed for God to change the world somehow: to give the poor more bread and less misery, for every loaf of bread to last until spring, and for no bucket of coal to run out until money for more coal was available. It did no good, because God does not correct the world in any way other than through the gradual development of people towards human compassion.
I am content with the entire order of the world. I know that I can fulfil my mission on Earth under all circumstances and that no circumstances can change me, but I can continuously change circumstances.
I am not troubled that there is more or less mud—so be it! I will not trouble myself over anything I cannot change. Nothing can trouble me unless I help it trouble me. Joy is waiting for us; it often knocks at the door of the heart, and it is simply about tuning our feelings properly and aligning our mind with a life-ideal.
The importance of will. – Speeches and actions. – Types of pathological will. – Characteristics of healthy will. – Divided and weak will. – A disease from childhood. – The drunkard. – The murderer. – The weak-strong woman. – Halifax and Gandhi. – Tempo and calm. – Is suicide a disease of will? – Is it worth living? – How to strengthen the will of children. – Love and will.
The will is an organ of the soul, not of the body. No bodily organ or group of organs, neither muscles nor brain cells, are the originators of will. Even if we illuminate the body with X-rays, or examine it psychologically, nowhere in the body will we find will.
Will is the most profound and powerful force in human life. Will—that is a human. It has been said that a person is as many times a man as the number of languages he masters. But it can be stated even more emphatically: a person is as much a man as his will is strong, assertive, and persistent. Set the entire world against him, and he cannot be compelled to do anything he himself does not want.
It is indisputable that anyone who consciously wishes to cultivate a good mood, and for that purpose, control their thoughts and feelings, needs to support their will with appropriate means.
The fatal flaw of human society is often too much talk where action is needed. Someone plans a beautiful castle, yet their will cannot even manage to build a doghouse. And conversely, sometimes people act rashly, and for lack of consideration, commit mistakes that cannot be undone.
A person without directed will, when passionate, is like a runaway horse. For a moment, it shows great strength, causes great harm, but gets us nowhere. To heal the will is to heal the entire person, to re-educate their thinking, emotions, and attitude towards life.
Just as healthy blood is the source of health for the entire body, so a healthy will is present in every action, step, intention, and behaviour.
There are many types of pathological will. It seems that a pedantic person has strong willpower, but that is pathological will. They expend much energy on little.
Some believe that a person who clings stubbornly to something has strong willpower. But that, too, is pathological will. Healthy will is calm, purposeful, and persistent effort directed towards achieving a given goal.
Intelligent will is not obstinate. Often, there is more strength in proper flexibility than in stubborn insistence.
Healthy will does not indulge in dreams of eternity but instead brings practicality into every second. It is mainly shown in its perseverance and overcoming of small obstacles on the path to achieving great goals.
People who complain of weakness will often have divided willpower. Such a person wants something but simultaneously feels pressure, resistance, or fear of what might happen if they achieve it.
This is often an affliction from childhood. A child wants something, and the parents forbid it without explaining why or giving the child the opportunity to exercise its will in some other way. Then the child simultaneously doesn’t want and wants. It doesn’t want in order to avoid punishment, but it does want because its desire and passion were neither satisfied nor redirected elsewhere. The less the child is allowed to want, the more divided its will becomes. This carries over into later life. However, parents who allow their child everything are also not raising their will properly, for if every whim of the child is satisfied, the will has no means by which to grow stronger.
If a person wants to understand the causes of the fluctuations and weaknesses in their will, it is of utmost importance that they strive to know themselves, examine themselves, analyse themselves, and uncover themselves right down to the wishes and desires they suppressed long ago.
The path to a strong will is the path to oneself. A person examines what influences them and what it is they do without their own conviction or decision-making, for every such activity weakens and diminishes a person.
A person usually desires what they wish for. Thus, an alcoholic, when you reason with them, laments their weak will. Indeed, they have a weak will when it comes to not drinking. But they have a very strong will when it comes to obtaining a drink.
When we examine a murderer in this way, we usually find that it was not their will to kill. The will was in the service of some passion. When they later say during questioning, “I didn’t want to kill,” they can be believed, at least as far as their will is concerned.
This applies both to good and evil. I knew a widow with four children. While her husband was alive and earning money, she had practically no will and did only what her husband wished. But left to rely on her own strength, she developed the will of a great hero. And what made her will so strong? It was a life-ideal and the powerful motivations driving her to achieve it. It was her whole being that developed a strong will to tackle great tasks.
A strong will is often connected with calmness. Whoever cultivates calmness is already cultivating a strong will. When Gandhi’s activities were unsettling the British Empire, Halifax, then the Viceroy of India, was asked to negotiate with Gandhi. London was urging him for a quick report. They called several times by telephone, but Halifax shut himself in his office with Gandhi and announced that no one was to disturb him. Officials waited for one hour, then two, on tenterhooks. Finally, a request came for someone to check what was happening in the Viceroy’s office. Concerns arose that Gandhi might have attacked Halifax. This image should have been preserved in history: in a magnificent office sat, opposite each other, the representative of the global empire and the half-naked, thin leader of the Indian resistance. Viceroy Halifax was explaining to Gandhi the meaning of one Aramaic letter in Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” Only after that did the actual negotiations begin. And the calm Gandhi, with his strong will, was surpassed by the calm Englishman with an even stronger will.
Let us accustom ourselves, in everything, to a certain tempo, to the rhythm of life. Through this, we will acquire great certainty, concentrate our forces, and keep our will flexible and ready to push when and where it is needed. Every movement and word spoken in agitation is a waste. If you don’t immediately know what to do or where to leap, sit down, calm yourself, review the entire situation, and then start working with redoubled strength!
The same applies when dealing with an agitated person. Any effort to negotiate with them is wasted when their mental balance is disturbed. Either let them speak their mind, allowing their impulse of anger or fear to dissipate somewhat, or, if possible, seat them in a comfortable armchair—better still, offer them some refreshments. In doing so, we calm both ourselves and them, with the understanding that on a calm surface, we will sail more quickly and safely to the desired shore, and that the foundation of a strong act of will is calmness, a focus of the mind on one thing; calm vision, calm speech, calm action. Such calmness is not apathy or complacency but rather the concentration of forces at the right time, in the right place, for a deliberate act.
Suicidal tendencies are, in reality, an illness of the will. Just as anger, which appears with an undisciplined will, can cause a stroke, despair can paralyse the will to live. The question is, who is the weaker person: the one who cries or the one who kills themselves? The one who cries still has the strength to cry. In their tears, there sparkles trust in tomorrow. The person who commits suicide strikes hopelessly around themselves and shatters the mirror of life because it shows them an ugly face.
It is true that great agitation causes the paralysis of the heart, but it is also true that it represents enormous strength. Despair, too, is an accumulation of mental energy, of which its owner is often unaware, and if they were aware, they would not dare to control or use it.
The greatest secret I ever heard was the confession of a man on the verge of suicide. Certain wartime experiences brought him to the brink of despair. His life hung by a thread. Then, like lightning, a thought flashed through his mind: “Fine, think of yourself as if you had died, and that human praise and blame matter to you as little as they do to a gravestone.” Only then did his eyes open, and he saw what he had never before suspected so much: that human actions and enterprises are, to a large degree, dictated by human judgment, and that even the measure of success and failure is often determined by the evaluations of others.
“I’ve lost one life; I’ll start a new one on a new foundation,” he said to himself, and so he began. The fundamental wealth of his new life’s venture was the enormous energy that had initially been intended to bring about the end his life but, instead, it did not end it; it transformed it. How foolish the question might sound: is life worth living! It always depends on how one lives, on who one is. For some people, life is always worth living under all circumstances; for others, life is not worth living simply because they feel themselves to be worthless.
When I die, let it be known that I lived for something worthwhile, that I fought and conquered! And if I must fall in that battle, then at least I fought! Whatever symbol may fly on the banner with which I breathe my last breath, let it not be the symbol of a coward, noose, or any other suicide!
Death is especially beautiful when someone, so to speak, dies in the furrow they were ploughing, in the work they held dear! It is sweet to live when one has an ideal, when one has stood on God’s vineyard and found their greatest happiness in helping others live beautifully and strongly!
People usually do not do what is best for them unless their will is constantly reignited by some interest, some love, or some ideal. Take as a small example those who quickly tire at work or while walking, compared to others who perform that same work with interest and enthusiasm.
How often do parents force children to study and say, “You must want to.” But that does not encourage their will. If instead they sparked an interest in the subject of study, there would be no lack of good will. Why is there less eagerness to work today than there used to be? Because there is less interest and love. Once, a craftsman put their whole soul into their work. With interest and love, they watched how their creation grew in their hands and how successful it became. If someone has an appreciation for antiques, let them observe with what love certain things must have been crafted to turn out so well.
The driving force of the will can be great love and great interest. If we consider that it is possible to fall in love with any honest work, and that the will is the greatest factor in success, then nothing is impossible for a person, as long as it is humanly possible.
Some kind of love, some kind of ideal must ignite a person. A person must live for something broader and higher than themselves, otherwise, they wither like a flower under a candle, which cannot replace the sun. One best trains their will on something great, something worth living, suffering and sacrificing for.
Such a higher goal is social work in its various forms, a noble struggle for a new humanity and more perfect social systems, for progress in its most sacred sense, for the idea of pure religion.
In such a heroic struggle for the higher aspirations of humanity, how small and ridiculous is vanity with its race for fame! How miserable is envy; under its dark shadow, every little flower of joy freezes. How petty is the vengefulness of a hoarder; on their horizon, the quiet peaks of magnanimity never rise.
When a person finds the meaning of their existence and considers themselves a part of greater wholes, it becomes easier to adjust the small details of daily life, because they now have a certain detachment that prevents them from becoming too mundane.
Nothing is insignificant if it allows us to measure our strength and imprint the mark of our personality upon it. Even the most ordinary task is not ordinary if, through it, I train my will and simultaneously express myself.
Someone once said that a person is what they eat. With how much greater truth can we say that a person is what they will and how they will it!
A guide to winning people over and maintaining a good mood. – A surprised factory owner. – Lloyd George as a fisherman. – Emerson’s trouble with a calf. – Praise for silence. – He didn’t want his parents to know he was a god. – Sensitive spots. – “Milostpaní” (Ma’am). – How Socrates did it. – Instructions for married people. – Faults and love.
Most often, people spoil each other’s moods. A good mood is helped when we develop the most suitable attitude towards others. I don’t agree with everything Dale Carnegie wrote in his famous book “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” I am not in favour of trying to please people at any cost, but many of his observations cannot be appreciated enough.
Anyone who wants to maintain a good mood in dealing with others must try to harmonise with them. A good mood creates pleasant company, and pleasant company creates a good mood.
As far as it depends on us, we should have goodwill towards all people. In personal interactions, don’t aim only to hear yourself; let the other person speak as well. Keep in mind that everyone loves themselves, and it feels good when they sense that we like something they also like.
Kindness is one of the creators of a good mood. With one drop of honey, we can catch more flies than with a whole bowl of bile.
Carnegie tells the story of a factory owner who employed three hundred and fourteen people. He hated them all, and they hated him. He couldn’t find anything good in anyone. Kindness, recognition, encouragement—these were foreign words to him, and they never crossed his lips. Wherever he turned, everything reeked of a bad mood. But after studying a course on dealing with people, everything changed in an instant. His three hundred and fourteen employees and enemies became three hundred and fourteen friends. A new devotion, new enthusiasm, and a new spirit permeated the entire factory. He admits: “When I used to walk through the factory, no one greeted me; everyone acted as if they didn’t see me. Now, from the janitor to the lowest clerk, everyone greets me with, ‘Hello, John!’” (An American custom of greeting superiors casually, provided they are on good terms.)
It is good for a good mood when we try to put ourselves in someone else’s position. “A person who thinks only of themselves is hopelessly uneducated, no matter how well-schooled they may be,” said the president of one of the world’s largest universities.
Let us always ask ourselves: “How does this look from the other person’s perspective?” “Perhaps, if I were an Indian, I would consider cows and snakes sacred animals, and if my mother were a Muslim, I would pray ‘La ilaha illa Allah!’”
The well-known statesman, Lloyd George, is a passionate fisherman. He once said: “I like strawberries with cream, but fish like worms. If I gave them strawberries with cream, they wouldn’t bite.” This does not mean we should look down on or despise anyone. It simply means we should approach people from the angle closest to their interests.
Once it happened that the famous Emerson and his son wanted to get a calf into the barn. They made the usual mistake of only thinking about what they wanted and not what the calf wanted. Emerson stood at the back, pushing, while his son stood at the front, pulling. The calf did everything possible to thwart their efforts. It stiffened its legs and resisted stubbornly. Along came their maid, an Irishwoman. She wasn’t as educated as Emerson, couldn’t write a book like he could, but she knew what the calf liked. She stuck her finger in its mouth, as it was still suckling, and the calf suckled her finger and followed her easily without any struggle.
Do these everyday comparisons not contain a profound life philosophy? People often want something from someone: “I want this or that,” but they don’t ask what the other person might like. Service and generosity create a good mood.
If one does not want to create a bad mood at the beginning of a conversation, one should never start with reproaches, criticism, or accusations. As the saying goes: If you want to gather honey, don’t kick the beehive. Even the worst person is rarely convinced of their wrongdoing. I’m not saying they cannot be brought to better understanding, but whoever begins persuading them with reproaches might as well save themselves the unnecessary effort.
The former American President Coolidge was renowned for his reticence. The greatest compliment he ever gave was to his stenographer when she once entered the office. Coolidge said to her, “You’re wearing such a lovely dress today; you’re a truly beautiful girl.” The reason for this introduction was clarified in the continuation of his speech: “Don’t be alarmed. I wanted you to feel good, and from today on, please be more mindful when typing, making sure to place commas in the correct places!”
One of the best, though often rusted, keys to human hearts is—recognition.
I knew people who went insane due to a lack of any recognition. I remember a rural boy who worked on his father’s farm like a horse but never heard a single word of acknowledgment. I don’t know what led him to come to Prague to see me and ask for advice about how he could leave home and what profession I would recommend for him. I analysed him as best I could. When I realised how much pain he had accumulated from relentless pushing without any recognition, he became very open and whispered to me: “You know, I’m God, but at home, they mustn’t know.” I saw that he was either delusional, or at least that it was the beginning of such a state. The constant suppression of his human dignity had evoked the belief that he was not the least significant in the world, as his family treated him, but rather the greatest.
I am not saying we should flatter people; we just need to recognise that in every person, there is a divine spark, something noble. As Emerson said: “Every man I meet is my superior in some way, and in that, I learn from him.”
Whether it’s acknowledgment or attention, every person has a spot within them where they are particularly sensitive. If we want to win them over, we must find this sensitive spot. When I returned from America, I found the address “milostpaní” (ma’am) very distasteful. I always had greater respect for women than I commonly found here, but saying “milostpaní” seemed to me unworthy of the woman I would address in that way, especially because I never heard anything like it in England or America. This caused me quite a few unpleasant situations. Today, after many years, I also sometimes say “milostpaní.” And I find joy in seeing how it pleases certain women — and how it prevents a bad mood.
Some people place immense importance on titles. Of Masaryk, we know he was simply T. G. Masaryk. I don’t know how many doctoral diplomas he held, but he never used them. There were thousands of doctors around, but there was only one Masaryk.
Wherever we can assume that a person identifies themselves primarily with their title, we mustn’t forget to address them by it correctly. These are the keys to their heart and often also to their reason.
Another rule for winning people over and maintaining their good mood teaches us first to seek agreement with the person on something, and never begin in a way that would make them initially have to say no. As soon as someone says no, everything within them—their nerves, glands, and blood—aligns with that no, and their pride won’t allow them to say yes after having already said no. So, let’s begin with something they might agree with. This is the so-called Socratic method.
Socrates was peculiar in some ways; he walked barefoot, for instance, or he was criticised that at forty, he married an eighteen year old girl. But he was the first to teach people how to gain agreement, even on things they initially disagreed about. He always asked questions that the other person had to answer: yes, that’s how it is. Then, through further questioning, he started from what the other person agreed with him about, and gradually led him to agree on something about which they originally had a different opinion.
Carnegie also gives specific advice to married people on how to maintain mutual good relationships and good moods with each other. He says:
Don’t tease each other!
Don’t try to stop them from being themselves!
Don’t criticise!
Don’t skimp on generous acknowledgment!
Remember small gestures of kindness!
Always be polite!
Study a good book on sexual relationships!
We often hear: “How can we find a man or woman, universally perfect, who would be worthy of our love? How can I find a friend without faults, who deserves my trust? What are the perfect laws that would permanently guarantee the happiness of my country?”—No wise person can answer those who pose life’s problems this way. What is wrong with these questions?
Perhaps it would be more appropriate to ask the following questions: “Where can I find a person as imperfect as I am, with whom we can mutually build a refuge against lovelessness and selfishness? What are the essential virtues that, despite the imperfections of state systems, allow nations to live? To what task can I dedicate my energy, my time, and my love? Finally, what kind of happiness am I capable of, and what kind of love can I create to bring it about?”
Here lies the cause of many breakdowns, both in marriage and in social life. Two young people marry, and before the wedding, they see an angel in each other, something supreme and festive, all virtue and no flaws. But daily life, with its struggles for existence, and the environment of unkind and slanderous people, causes them to start seeing each other’s faults. And if neither of them has resolved to love the other and stand by them despite all their flaws and weaknesses, and if they don’t strive daily to discover new beautiful qualities, noble motives, and sincerity in feelings, monotony, estrangement, and disaster follow.
Even couples who married out of great love, and are fully committed to serving and forgiving each other, must awaken, nurture, and cultivate their love every day. Then, their love will grow ever greater, despite all shortcomings and flaws. — But woe betide those who did not marry for love and also neglected to awaken and cultivate it. In such cases, things can go so far that they begin to loathe each other, letting a root of bitterness grow in their hearts.
Whether they are spouses or anyone else, everyone comes alive through love, and love is the best foundation for a good mood.
Anger literally poisons the blood and the entire body, whereas love is revitalising ozone, and whoever does not breathe it perishes from spiritual consumption. Love is a specific attitude towards people in the sense of understanding, appreciation, compassion, helping, and overlooking the shortcomings and faults of others.
People in small-town or primitive environments are often overly exposed to the influence of suggestion and imagination, so they rarely see or appreciate a person for who they are, but instead view everyone through the lenses of neighbourhood gossip, political passions, or fashionable suggestions. A person rises in their esteem by the number of miles they are removed from their town. The more foreign they are, the greater their weight, especially if they excel in something. It is well known that many of our people only gained recognition at home through their achievements abroad, and they were only appreciated if they left again soon enough.
If we want our love for someone to endure, it is good to acknowledge from the very beginning that they have flaws and to be willing to love them even with their imperfections. In André Maurois’s book On Love and Happiness, we read this passage:
“Do you want to know the secret of happiness? A strange announcement in The Times posed this question several months ago. Those who responded received an envelope containing verses from St. Matthew’s Gospel: ‘Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, it will be opened.’ This is the true secret of happiness. This thought can also be expressed in another way: at the bottom of Pandora’s box, after all the evils have escaped, Hope remains. Whoever seeks love will find it; whoever gives themselves unconditionally to friendship will have friends; and whoever strives with all their might to find happiness will receive it.
There are so many things that even the poorest person can love, and each of them can be a source of joy. And the younger one begins to expand the horizons of their love, the richer their life will be with each passing year. How grateful nature is when we love it! Every flower will greet you kindly, every brook will whisper something beautiful to you, every sunbeam will kiss you on the forehead!
How grateful children are for love! If we love children and smile at a child, they will respond with a smile, and their eyes will leave a blessing in ours. How comforted is a person who is despondent if you manage to revive them a little with a word of love and bring a little new hope into their soul! Behind a person who loves, who sees goodness and beauty, and who feels a beating heart even where the surface is repellent, behind a person who is a broadcasting station of love, it is as if a bright trail stretches, in which everyone passing through can breathe more easily and feel closer to God himself.
Untapped reserves of energy. – William James and Boris Sidis on unused strengths. – Real and false fatigue. – How fatigue arises. – Chemical causes. – On tapping into new reserves of energy. – Fatigue as a safety valve. – Examples from the war. – The influence of mental causes on the feeling of fatigue. – Practical examples. – God is not in fatigue, but in strength.
Conscious cultivation of a good mood greatly benefits from an awareness of the resources of strength we have at our disposal. Fatigue is difficult to reconcile with a good mood; therefore, it will be useful to analyse feelings of fatigue and to recognise the reserves of energy we can count on.
The human body is not as frail as one might conclude from people’s complaints. Each of the millions of cells in the human body is a reservoir of energy and rarely expends all its reserves. Its motto is: Keep large reserves ready for emergencies and danger.
It can be said without exaggeration that most people go through life leaving half of their energy untouched and die with it. Our weaknesses usually stem from ignorance about strength and its hidden reserves. The eminent psychologist Prof. William James significantly contributed to uncovering these hidden strengths through his book on life reserves. He speaks of “layers of energy” and explains how, after one layer is depleted, fatigue sets in. But when this fatigue intensifies and passes a certain point, it completely disappears, and a new layer of energy is tapped. In this way, several successive layers, separated by fatigue, can be discovered before true exhaustion occurs.
Typically, we do not push through the barrier of fatigue, but if, in exceptional cases, we do, we discover an abundance of strength and sources of energy we had never imagined or counted on.
Of course, there are certain limits; trees do not grow all the way to the sky. Nevertheless, it remains true that people worldwide have immense reserves of energy that certain individuals fully utilize only in rare cases. And such an individual can, in most cases, do this day after day without harmful consequences, for their body adapts to greater exertion, so that the more energy they expend, the more they receive.
Another psychologist, Boris Sidis, wrote: “We use only a small fraction of the energy available in our organism, and even that depends on the extent of stimulation by our surroundings.”
These psychologists mentioned here are not inexperienced dreamers but men of science and practical life. Many who believed they had reached the end of their strength were revived to life and successful work by their own efforts. Every successful healer of the soul and everyone who has worked harder than the average person cannot but help confirm this experience.
Of course, an objection arises: how could millennia have passed without this being heard of? Perhaps it is a fantasy that some dreamers stumbled upon at their study desks, while others will continue to say that fatigue is the best indicator of when work should stop.
This question cannot be answered unless we understand that there are two types of fatigue: true and false, and that these two kinds of fatigue are very similar, though fundamentally different in both origin and nature.
First of all, fatigue and exhaustion are two very different things; fatigue often occurs in situations where exhaustion cannot be spoken of.
The average person rarely, if ever, experiences true exhaustion in their lifetime. True exhaustion might only occur if someone were running for their life and, under no circumstances, could take another step. Even then, it is possible that some hidden factor, beyond fatigue, might explain their inability to continue.
True fatigue is a chemical process in our body. It arises from recent physical or mental exertion. The feeling of fatigue is caused by waste substances that accumulate in the muscles and blood during exertion.
It is similar to a factory, where waste products are produced during manufacturing and need to be removed so as not to obstruct the process. The body is designed continuously to eliminate waste through various means; however, it sometimes happens that some waste substances remain behind during the day. This creates a feeling of fatigue, which disappears as soon as the body, during rest or sleep, removes these residual waste products.
If our body is not ill, it never carries over waste products from one day to the next. In terms of fatigue, there are no old debts to pay. Physical strength is renewed in 24-hour cycles.
Holidays are more about mental refreshment, a change of location or work, rather than the replenishment of physical energy.
If, for one reason or another, the body ceases regularly to eliminate its waste, these waste products become a poison that halts its functioning and leads to death.
If everything stated about the body’s continuous recovery and elimination of residual waste is true, it follows that fatigue can always only be the result of recent exertion. If a person is alive, the consequences of past exertion must have long been repaired. Fatigue cannot last long because it either kills us or heals us.
To a certain extent, the more a person performs above the ordinary level of activity, the more they are capable of accomplishing. Professor James emphasised that the greater the consumption, the faster the repair.
With extraordinary exertion, all organs of the body increase their performance until they reach a certain point where they cease functioning and refuse to do more until they have rested.
Everything points to the magnificent arrangements of nature. Although every individual constantly produces enough carbon dioxide to kill themselves within minutes, they are not in danger because they cannot hold their breath longer than a few minutes, thus always managing to expel their own poison through exhalation. This gas automatically regulates breathing, and the more there is of it, the deeper we are forced to exhale. Similarly, this applies to the rest of our elimination and recovery processes.
Let us recall times when we left the city and, without any prior muscular preparation, undertook a walk of five or more hours uphill. At first, we doubted whether fatigue would overcome us. Soon, however, when gazing at the beautiful landscape, we overcame or forgot the feeling of fatigue. Then, as if we had tapped into a new reserve of energy, we felt refreshed again. In the evening, we were naturally tired and perhaps even on the second or third day. However, if we continue with long walks, our strength recovers more quickly until we can accomplish three times as much as before without fatigue.
Another example can be observed with any healthy child during a walk. If the child walks at the same pace as us, it will soon tire; but if we can distract its attention from fatigue, it will run much further without becoming tired.
The conclusion is that, up to a certain point and far beyond the usual limit of fatigue, the more we do, the more we are able to accomplish. That’s why people say about a good worker: “Just give it to them, they’ll get it done as well,” even if they’re doing much more than someone about whom it’s said: “They’ll never finish even their own work.”
We come to an important question: What is the key that opens the reserves of energy and dispels fatigue? What helped the city-dweller-turned-hiker increase their energy? What helps the worker who is paid per piece to produce more with less fatigue? What keeps a child on its feet even though it previously complained that it couldn’t go on?
The answer is found in encouraging feelings, movements of the mind and emotions—it is awakened joy, enthusiasm, or a new interest.
All great commanders knew the immense importance of morale. What a difference it makes if soldiers have an idea to fight for, if they have hope of victory, if they long for honours—compared to when they are hopeless, indifferent either in victory or defeat!
Similarly, in any endeavour, we find that the difference between weakness and strength can mostly be measured by the difference in enthusiasm and mood that accompany the work.
Fatigue is nature’s safety valve, but we must add reason and experience so that it doesn’t make us overly sensitive. Generally, our nature signals fatigue long before the limit of performance is reached. If we pay too much attention to these signals, they will demand it habitually, eventually commanding all of our attention.
Attention amplifies every feeling, especially when it is connected with fear. Fear adds traces of adrenaline to the waste substances of fatigue, which must be removed before balance can be restored. This creates a vicious cycle: when we are tired, we lose courage and become sluggish. This mental sluggishness makes us even more tired.
When I emphasise that there is no need to fear fatigue as it usually presents itself, this does not mean that we should be careless and burn the candle at both ends. If fat reserves are depleted, and reserve energy is exhausted, some sleep must be added, and sensible habits should be observed in diet and all other matters.
The best example of what humans can endure, and what reserves of energy they possess, was seen in those who experienced war. To verify my claims, I had my son recount his experiences from the French front, and if I did not know his absolute truthfulness and tendency to understate his achievements, I would not have believed the similar accounts of others.
When he and others were ordered to the front line, a meal was being served, the only food for the entire day. Without touching the food, they had to run forward to fill a gap left by a French regiment that had surrendered. They ran through the night and the following day, and thus, without sleep or food, on the third day, they threw themselves into battle, engaging in hand-to-hand fighting.
In total, during this time, he went eleven days without sleeping, ate almost nothing, waded through a river up to his knees, and wore wet clothes and underwear for the entire time without changing. There were frosts at night, yet he did not catch a cold. Although he often succumbed to exhaustion, as soon as a new alarm arose, he sprang into action and felt no fatigue.
Would he or anyone else have imagined beforehand that they could endure this? And even after hearing my explanations about suggestion, he said to himself that he might have handled everything even better if he had used suggestion and hadn’t kept telling himself, “This is the limit, now I must collapse; this exceeds all my strength.”
A single case like this would suffice to illustrate everything I’ve claimed about fatigue and the immense sources of energy within a person.
Prof. James is right that people generally use only a small portion of their energy, and that many can push the barrier of fatigue further than usual and live in good health, at a much higher level of power.
Our goal is to figure out how to release sources of strength and cast off the unwanted burden of fatigue that often prevents us from using our best abilities.
The first step we’ve taken is understanding what fatigue is and recognising that there’s no need to fear it if we are otherwise healthy.
Secondly, we’ve realised how closely fatigue is connected to mood. Great releases of energy come from our instincts. For example, the maternal instinct or a love for freedom can unlock hidden strength.
How significant an impact mental causes can have on the feeling of physical fatigue is shown by the following examples:
A certain professor suffered from fatigue neurosis for four years. It turned out that it arose from a sense of helplessness during a particular event in his life. This subconscious feeling of helplessness, with no other outlet, burst into his entire body as dreadful fatigue. His only salvation lay in re-educating his thoughts about fatigue.
A certain woman suffered from such great fatigue that she was unable to eat or sleep. She could only cry. The cause? She had spent her entire life caring for a disabled person, and that person died. She stood there with empty hands. She had no reason to live.
Just like many mothers, when their children grow up and leave home, they no longer have an outlet for their fostered maternal feelings, and their helplessness manifests in their own body as fatigue or another symptom of inner imbalance, so it was with this woman. But through re-education and redirecting her thoughts to another person who needed care, her former strength returned.
Sometimes it happens that a person feels fatigue lingering from an illness. At that time, there was indeed a reason for the fatigue, but that reason has long since passed.
There are documented cases where someone didn’t dare to get out of bed or stand on their feet, and if they did get up, they could only take a few steps around the room. Yet when the mental cause of the fatigue was identified, and the patient was re-educated in their thinking and encouraged to walk, they began walking—and kept walking.
Fatigue, especially from mental overwork, appears in the most varied forms, even though it doesn’t have the slightest physical basis. The feeling of such fatigue disappears immediately when a person better understands themselves and the strength they possess.
It is almost unbelievable how much fatigue can be caused by the feeling that we are overworked or that our work is too difficult. And it is equally unbelievable to the uninitiated how much tremendous strength can be released by the suggestive idea that we are capable of our task.
I knew a very conscientious clerk who felt utterly exhausted by his daily work and wanted to request retirement because he believed he was completely ruined and incapable of working. Upon closer examination, it turned out that about seventy percent of his exhaustion was caused by the mental state in which he had become accustomed to performing every task. I told him bluntly that if he remained in that state and continued exhausting himself with worries, even without lifting a finger, his fatigue would only worsen. He constantly worried too much. Even when he merely watched his wife making plum dumplings, all the muscles in his face were tense, and he displayed so many unnecessary concerns about the dumplings, the kitchen, and the entire household that he could even tire and exhaust his wife to the point of making her ill.
He was saved through re-education. He learned to separate work from harmful thoughts about work, developed a habit of using positive feelings during work, and eventually triumphed, becoming a completely changed person.
It is difficult to explain to a layperson how the mere idea that something is tiring can induce fatigue, regardless of whether the task is truly exhausting. Similarly, it is just as hard to explain how another idea can genuinely and permanently remove fatigue, just as false suggestions had caused it.
It is undeniable that mental states, ideas, and suggestions can tire a person more than the most intensive physical or intellectual work.
Sometimes a change in mindset is more necessary than rest, and a good, enthusiastic mood is capable of unlocking more sources of strength than any other method of recovery.
The new insights into fatigue are not only valid for the sick and weakened but even more so for the healthy. Who wouldn’t want to live a fuller life? Who doesn’t wish to have more strength? Who wouldn’t want to improve their moods by eliminating unnecessary fatigue?
Some people tire themselves out with long sleep. They should use shorter sleep and take more frequent breaks during the day for rest. It is like eating. Some need to eat more frequently in smaller portions, while others can last a long time after a hearty meal without eating. The same applies to rest. Some can endure long effort after thorough recovery, while others need more frequent breaks. The same can be observed in students. One can study for a long time, while another learns best when taking more frequent breaks. For some, one or two minutes are enough to study effectively for another ten minutes. However, if they study for an entire hour without a break, they won’t learn as much as they would have with breaks every half an hour. Everyone should strive to find their unique rhythm of effort and fatigue. Thus, we should aim to master our fatigue and our reserves of strength. Furthermore, let us learn to awaken interest in the work we must do, so that we tire less from it and can release greater reserves of energy.
We must wish for more light, joy, and strength to enter the lives of our people. For God is not in fatigue but in strength, not in sorrows but in joy, not in irritability but in love.
The influence of colours on mood, health, and nerves. – How different colours affect people. – Colours in the bedroom. – Red, yellowy-violet, blue, yellow. – Vibrations of colours. – How to harmonise a colourless environment. – Gratitude to the Moravian Slovaks. – The Saxe-Altenburg costume. – A child’s room. – Prague and the Vltava river in colours. – A hymn to colours.
Colours influence mood, calming or irritating us depending on how they harmonise with our nature and occupation.
Everything we do and surround ourselves with should serve to express or enhance the fullest creative life we are currently capable of, while also paving the way for an even more perfect manifestation of physical and mental health, a greater enjoyment of divine energies, and the successful spreading of good moods and goodwill among people. Thus, it is our duty to consider seriously every phenomenon and theme that might help achieve this lofty goal. Hence our interest in colours and their influence on health and character.
A person is not sealed off from the world by their skin. The skin, nerves, lungs, and senses are constantly connected to the most subtle influences and vibrations of the surrounding world—and among these influences, colours and light play an important role.
It has been observed that a child as young as three months old can show a preference for a certain colour, and restlessness at another.
Furthermore, certain combinations of colours may be associated with unpleasant life memories, and whenever a person sees those colours, they feel aversion.
In colours themselves, there are such differences that even two seemingly identical colours may not be the same. For example, glass coloured by adding cobalt salt is nicely blue, yet such coloured glass does not calm the nerves as effectively as glass coloured with blue vitriol. The reason is that cobalt blue contains an invisible admixture of red and other colours, diminishing the soothing effect of pure blue.
I am certain that medical science in the future will take much greater account of the influence of colours than it does today. For us, however, it concerns only the general influence of colours on health and mood, and here it can be confidently stated that every colour that positively affects mood also benefits health.
First place in this regard belongs to the colours most abundant in nature when it awakens to new life in spring. It is fresh green, the symbol of hope, which revives optimism and, so to speak, freshens the mind, driving away the bacilli of irritability. Then there is the colour of the rising sun, which inspires every cell to release its life energy. And when a person, distressed by daily struggles, looks up at the blue expanse of the sky, they may find calm. The sea has a similar effect. Many individuals plagued by nerve-related ailments have found peace and health there.
Doctors who experiment in this field have demonstrated the beneficial effects of cheerful spring colours on people suffering from mental distress, and on a wide range of nervous and psychological disorders. Soldiers who suffered nervous shocks in the war recovered more quickly in hospitals filled with warm, welcoming colours than their comrades treated in grey, sombre-coloured hospitals.
Grumpy and irritable individuals are transformed into cheerful and good-natured ones in rooms suffused with the rays of cheerful, joyous colours.
It was observed that even workers, especially in occupations where mood plays a significant role, achieved more and better work with less effort in rooms decorated with stimulating colours than in workshops with unfriendly, sleepy, or outright despairing colours. Yes, despairing. There are colours that are akin to despair.
I recall an older woman who had a northerly facing bedroom, painted in grey tones. Every morning, she would wake up grumpy and in a bad mood. But lo and behold, her grouchiness disappeared like old, dirty snow under the cheerful spring sun as soon as she moved her bed to an easterly facing room, decorated in spring-like colour tones. The curtains were made of yellowish, translucent silk, letting in rays that were friendly to the nerves. It has been demonstrated that overly agitated individuals would fall asleep peacefully in a room with walls painted in yellow-green shades, a blue bedspread, and a blue lampshade.
Each colour has its unique effect on health and mood, which can be enhanced by combining it with other colours. There is hardly an illness for which one colour would not be more favourable than another for treatment, and there is no mood that could not be improved or worsened under the influence of certain colours.
An unsuitable combination of otherwise favourable colours can create a sense of oppression, such as when a heavy, dark colour is above and a light, brighter colour is below it—do you not feel the oppressive, suppressive impression of that heavy colour?
On some illnesses, the influence of colours is particularly noticeable. I have observed the effect of colour on epilepsy.
In an uncoordinated room where white, grey and black, or even completely red colours dominate, where there are many sharp and discordant lines, where the eye has nothing on which to rest or regain strength, and where light reflects sharply off glass without casting any favourable colour, seizures tend to be much more frequent and intense than in rooms harmonised with cheerful colours. Yellowy-violet hues seem to be particularly beneficial for epileptics.
Among the most beneficial, and especially soothing, is the colour blue. I have read numerous clinical reports describing how the proper use of blue has been used to treat various types of insomnia, heart palpitations, cramps, acute rheumatism (for chronic rheumatism, yellow proved effective), blood pressure to the head, neuralgia, and more. Generally speaking, blue tones are beneficial for nervous and agitated individuals, whereas red is harmful. One can have a blue ceiling in the bedroom, blue curtains, a blue vase, or a blue carpet. It is not necessary for everything to be blue; it suffices to have enough distinctly blue points on which the eye can rest, while removing anything that might irritate.
A different question arises, of course, when one person’s condition requires more blue and another’s condition demands more red. It is like when one person wants to sleep with the window open, and the other with it closed, or when one enjoys dumplings while the other prefers vegetables.
Another distinctly beneficial colour is yellow, particularly orange-yellow. Its effect is opposite to that of blue. While blue soothes, orange tones stimulate the nerves to greater activity and alertness.
The fabric of our body, like any material, is ultimately composed of rhythmic vibrations very similar to sunlight; altered vibrations are often caused by changes in colours, as each colour represents a specific number of oscillations per second.
Colours that our eyes can perceive have between 398 and 764 trillion oscillations per second. The fewest oscillations belong to red, the most to violet. The difference between individual colours thus amounts to billions more or fewer oscillations. It would indeed be strange if this fact did not have an effect on the reorganisation and alteration of the rhythm of the energies that make up our bodies.
It is desirable that each of us, in some corner of our home, has at least one pleasantly coloured object to focus our thoughts upon. This can be an artistic postcard, a picture, a flower, a sprig of greenery, or a few green leaves. When it becomes too familiar, it can be moved or replaced.
In English families, even in poorer ones, it is customary to have some flower or greenery on the table, even if it’s just something brought from a field or forest. It affects the mood, which is highly important for good digestion, and it costs very little.
Some people have windows facing a courtyard with only an ugly, dirty wall in view. A small picture of a landscape in bright colours, with fresh greenery and a lively brook, is enough to change the entire appearance and mood.
A window with no view can be covered with translucent coloured paper in warm tones and patterns. It is inexpensive and greatly enhances the mood.
We should always remember the great benefit of the effects of colours on mood and health, and make life more pleasant by frequently decorating and rearranging items in our homes with attention to the colour effects of such arrangements.
Just as a piano needs to be tuned from time to time, so too do the tones of all colours in our surroundings—whether in the living room, bedroom, kitchen, or even the smallest corner of our home—need to be tuned and retuned.
To some, this may seem petty, trivial, insignificant. Do not believe it! Our moods are constantly shaped by small, barely noticed or even unnoticed impressions. Experience is the best teacher here.
Such “recolouring” of our homes does not have to be expensive. Often, much has already been accomplished simply by removing something that was lying around or hanging somewhere purely out of habit. Let us consider daily what each thing around us is telling us, how and in what way it affects us, what mood it evokes, what tone it adds to the symphony of colours resonating through our home quietly from morning to evening.
If we cannot completely remove something unappealing, at least we can relocate it and observe the effect! We are made in such a way that something we hear too often, we eventually stop listening. An object that stays too long in one place becomes invisible to us. Every such, I would say, “dead object,” must occasionally be removed and replaced with something else to use the space better for creating mood.
The smaller our homes, the more such changes are needed.
Many people would not age so quickly, and the weariness of life would not grip them so tightly, if they were not surrounded by countless little things that embody monotony, old age, and stagnation, simply because they are always the same—equally dull and equally uninteresting.
It is like food. Even the best meal becomes ordinary and unappetising if it is repeated too often. The more civilised people are, the more they long for change; life’s monotony compels them to extend the field of their creative imagination to colours as well.
We cannot be grateful enough to our Moravian Slovaks for preserving their beautiful, colourful folk costumes, radiant with cheerful, vibrant colours of life. If these costumes were accompanied by a conscious creative mind, and if the influence of spiritual and physical toxins, such as alcohol and superstition, were eliminated, our Slovaks would stand at the forefront of everything healthy, strong, and vital.
I compared the influence of Saxe-Altenburg folk costumes with that of Moravian-Slovak ones. While our Slovak costumes are admired for their variety and the beauty of their lively, spring colours, the Saxe-Altenburg ones are infamous for their repugnant, monotonous black and an even more unflattering forms. Women’s chests are pressed into their bodies, and behind them, a short, starched skirt bounces like some tin kettle as they walk.
The beauty and variety of the Altenburg landscape does not outweigh the flattening influence of colourless, mournful, shapeless costumes. The people are impoverished by their grey monotony and lifelessness, which settles like a moth on all aspects of their lives, beginning with their miserable cuisine.
Let us once again elevate the cult of beautiful spring colours and not allow ourselves to be swept away by the fashion of monotony and uniformity! Especially we, in large cities, are in dire need of this. We already have enough grey dust, black soot, and muddy colours, along with sharp arc lights and the aggravating commotion of all kinds of scandals—why should we add colourlessness where we can create something of our own with our money, where we live, what we wear, and what we often look at? Shouldn’t our eyes and souls find rest and healing there?!
The eyes and soul of a child need vivid colours the most. Just as a child needs sunshine, air, water, and fruit, so too does it need vibrant, bright, and beautiful colours for its mental nourishment. Children should have their own little rooms, furnished, painted, and decorated for their imaginative world. There are families who have enough rooms and could easily provide the child with what naturally belongs to it, but they lack an understanding of the child’s world. Schools, of course, should take the lead and offer children an abundance of the most beautiful colours and stimulate their mood with colours, for so much of their success depends on their mood, especially given the particular moodiness of children.
And what can we say about hospitals—about homes for the sick—about orphanages—about poorhouses—?
Our homeland is so rich in colours, our golden Prague is a city of colours, and our Vltava river [in Prague] is like a living prism that refracts all the sun’s rays and sends their healing vibrations back into the eyes and souls hungry for colour.
Let us cultivate the suggestions of words and smiles, of songs and music, and also the suggestions of colours! Let us transform them into fields of healing moods!
Away with every dull, expressionless surface!
Let us look around and see what we might take away or add to make our home rejoice with new tones and the music of colours. Let us awaken a sense for beautiful colours and not fear the criticism of those who are blasé, with colourless souls and flat minds. And even if the whole world were to roar that colours had died and must no longer shine and celebrate with their joyous mood, let us strive nonetheless to revive, love, and cherish them. Through them, we deepen our devotion, which is an effort to express and feel everything through which God lives and manifests in humanity!
A visit to Naples. – Children at shop windows. – Food for the soul. – Botanist, astronomer, anatomist. – Skylark. – Pitcher of water. – Bunch of keys. – A baby’s shoe. – Beauty in disorder. – Tears of great souls. – The art of seeing people. – Ugly and beautiful faces. – Seventeen and seventy-year-olds. – Women more beautiful than men. – Madame Curie. – Other qualities of beauty.
In 1911, I visited Italy for the first time. I carried away many beautiful impressions, but the strongest was from Naples. They say, “See Naples and die.” One must come to Naples at night so as not to ruin the first impression. Arrange to be taken to a nicely situated hotel with a view of the city, the illuminated harbour, and Vesuvius. My beautiful impression was then enhanced by favourable circumstances. From the balcony of my room, there was a stunning view of the city and harbour panorama, with smoking Vesuvius in the background. The mood of the southern night was heightened by singing accompanied by the chords of a guitar. Equally enchanting was my entry into the Naples Museum. I was simply intoxicated by the wealth and beauty of the sculpture and painting displayed. It seemed to me as if there was nothing in the world but beauty, and it completely consumed and absorbed me, so much so that I lost awareness of myself in its embrace.
When I was in Naples for the second time, it was a stopover of a few hours on the way to America. My wife and young son were with me. Both have a great sense of beauty, and yet their impression was very different from the one I had on my first trip to Italy. We arrived during the day and travelled in a rickety car through the dirtiest streets of Naples to Herculaneum and Pompeii. We had never seen anything filthier, and to this day, my son’s strongest memory of Naples is its dirt.
Naples is a fitting image of life. Such is life. It has its dark and long shadows, its very ugly corners; if we view it only from this side, it is not worth living, it is a great madhouse, a denial of beauty, truth, and goodness. But it also has its indescribable beauties, moments for which a person would give their entire life.
What is the art of living? It is this: to see, experience, and savour life from the side where it is most beautiful, most truthful, and most gracious.
I do not know whether it would be possible for any person to live without beauty. I have often observed children standing before the most beautiful shop windows, whilst knowing that they were living in the ugliest of surroundings. They absorbed that beauty as if they wanted to take in as much as possible in the shortest time. Perhaps they did this unconsciously; they also could not fully appreciate all the details of this, but it was evident that this beauty gave them something, that it belonged to their life like seasoning belongs to food. And I have seen them doing this in Prague on Na Příkopě street, just as in Paris, Rome, London, and on Fifth Avenue in New York.
More than once, I have heard someone from the countryside, especially a younger person, who upon entering a beautiful apartment, spontaneously exclaim: “Wow, it’s beautiful here!” Only when a person has aged into dullness does beauty cease to be beautiful for them, no longer speaks to them, and ceases to nourish them.
The body lives on food and drink, air and light, as well as on the forces and influences exerted upon it by the soul. However, it would be a mistake to think that the soul lives from nothing, that it has all the sources of its being within itself. Whoever wants to live spiritually must also nourish and feed themselves spiritually. Whatever other forces and influences keep the soul healthy and in good spirits, one of them is the perception of beauty.
A person can surround themselves with beauty, seek beauty, or place beauty where it does not exist.
The world of beauty is highly diverse and rich. It exists in shapes and colours, in nature and in people. There is natural and artificial beauty, external and internal. There is beauty on the surface of things and in their essence, in their composition or in their manifestation and purposefulness.
There is beauty that flickers through ugliness and is difficult to find, and there is beauty that resembles an advertising billboard; upon closer examination, it is nothing more than decorated ugliness.
Beauty can be criticised, dissected, written about, and discussed, and yet remain unknown. Just as one cannot scoop up the flavour of food with a fork, one cannot recognise beauty through cold reasoning.
Beauty has its own organ, like sight or hearing, like friendship or conscientiousness. Everyone possesses, in an embryonic form, a sense for beauty just as they have a sense for friendship. But if that sense is not awakened and cultivated, and if one is satisfied merely with reasoning about beauty, then beauty will remain foreign to them.
A botanist, who can expertly describe, dissect, classify, and name a flower using multiple terms, may not perceive even a hundredth of the beauty that captivates a two-year-old child stepping into a field for the first time and seeing a flower. Who has not heard a child’s delighted “Oh!” at the sight of a new flower? Who has not imagined their little hand reaching for it, wanting to stroke it, sitting beside it, admiring it?
An astronomer can count the stars, describe their constellations, measure their distances, and determine their compositions—yet I can gaze at them on an evening and be intoxicated and captivated by their splendour, without knowing the slightest detail of astronomical science.
The anatomist knows every bone in the human body, can describe all its organs, yet there is much more in a human being than can be counted, weighed, measured, or drawn: I can be captivated by someone’s soul without knowing their name or what they can do.
To see beauty is a great thing, to perceive beauty is much greater, but the greatest thing of all is to experience the subtle relationships that this beauty has with me—that is, with the living fragment of the cosmic, eternal, divine life that each of us is.
Look at the skylark. Where does its beauty lie? It is not in its size or weight, nor in the number of its feathers, nor even in the individual tones of its song: it is the entire skylark, with everything that makes it beautiful. It is a certain relationship that we have with it and with all of nature.
There is much beauty everywhere around, which others perceive and delight in, yet it does not become mundane simply because many have seen it. And there is even more beauty that no human eye has yet glimpsed. In every moment, new relationships between things, people, and nature are formed, and through them, new beauty arises.
Somewhere on a table stands a pitcher of water, and beside it waits a glass, ready to be filled and raised to someone’s lips to refresh them. Is this not beauty? Are not the glass and pitcher bathed in the magic of service, in the glow of life and love?
Look closely at a simple bunch of keys! One, a bit rougher and more solid, opens the gate to a house; another, smaller and shinier, belongs to a desk; and a third, perhaps a patented key, is for a special cabinet. How many human connections are represented here, how much beauty in their mutual relationship and use!
Or sometimes lovingly contemplate the worn, scuffed shoe of a toddler. That is material for an entire book of poetry. That is the essence of life. That is childhood and motherhood, the struggle to stay on one’s feet, the passage of time, testing the strength of materials, and a thousand joyful and startled cries! In short, that beauty with all its living connections must be seen and felt.
One of our writers bought a microscope and everything that goes with it to observe the tiniest forms of organic life—organisms that cannot be seen with the naked eye. And he tells of how he comes, for example, to a dirty puddle and there finds order, law, and life in its purest and simplest form.
And suddenly, he finds himself witnessing astonishing beauty in colour and form; he sees how that microscopic world down there—so small, so invisible to the unaided eye—is meticulously organised. It’s as if nature, precisely here, where it remains hidden from ordinary sight, creates its most beautiful miracles.
And so the man returns to those puddles, to all that disorder, sits by a drain, poking around with tweezers, drawing bits of slime into a pipette, putting them into test tubes, not noticing that an old woman in a woollen shawl has been standing behind him for a while, shaking her head at such genuinely nonsensical behaviour. “For heaven's sake, what on earth are you looking for in all that mess?” The man raises his head from the drain, carefully rests the test tubes on a stone, and looks into the curious old woman’s eyes. They are a little narrowed and wrinkled, eyes that have seen much and understood much. He says, “Beauty... and order… grandma!”
The old woman shakes her head (thinking, this man is crazy) and repeats, “In this mess?” And the man repeats, “Yes, grandma... in this! But you know... you have to see it, you have to know how to see it, through a little lens...!” “Oh... oh, know how to see, know how to…” she repeats to herself, nodding her head as if she’s starting to understand. “You’re right, you have to know how to look. When a person looks at the world properly, even without lenses, just like that, you know, just with my old eyes, then I have to admit, even without lenses, there’s actually a lot of beauty in it, something you always enjoy looking at... even without lenses!”
Beauty and order can be seen, as that writer describes, even in the greatest disorder. Beauty, again beauty, creative power, and strength. And what about when we lift our eyes to the starry sky and see thousands of shining worlds!
Is beauty and peace and hope only in the stars? Does not every little flower in the field, every blossom in the garden, every branch on a tree in the forest speak of it as well? Do not the birds sing of that beauty, and can you not hear it in the murmur of the brook?
The world is beautiful, but you must know how to see it. Then, like that writer with his microscope, you will find beauty even in disorder. See it with old eyes, see it with eyes rubbed clear, and see it with new eyes, and learn to see it further.
Someone somewhere sees only suffering, but if they were to look deeper, they would see in the tear that fell from an eye such beauty and such brilliance that no diamond in a royal crown could compare. In that tear, a great soul might speak to you.
The Apostle Paul said: “All things are yours” (1 Cor 3:21-23). Everything is yours—wherever you may look, regardless of who claims possession—and it is up to you what you see. Everything is yours—whatever you can understand—and it is up to you how you understand. Everything is yours—whatever you can feel and love—and it is up to you how you love.
The greatest beauty we see and experience comes when we learn to see a human being. There is nothing greater among the things we know, not even the starry heavens. That sky is too distant for us to hear its heartbeat or the breath of its love.
I have been learning to see people for seventy years, and the better I have learned, the more eager I am to see even more.
Emerson said: “Every spirit builds its house, and by the house it is possible to know who inhabits it.”
A person is not always beautiful in equal parts. There are moments when they are at their most beautiful. And there are moments when even the best person does not appear beautiful.
A good portraitist or sculptor seeks the moments to capture a person in the most favourable light. Let us not judge anyone by their bad moments, when they appear the least beautiful.
The poorest kind of beauty is the one that is merely dressing. Beauty that can be bought and decorates only the surface of the skin is the lowest kind, even if it costs millions. Even the brilliance of the most expensive diamond cannot replace the sparkle of a soulful eye.
The prettiest little faces are often the least attractive! Some faces might be well-suited for display in a shop window as an accessory to a fashionable outfit or as a model for a beginning painter, but if we placed such a face among intellectually vibrant, thoughtful, and capable people, it would stand out like a puppet among living beings.
Newton said of a certain Hooke: “He promises the least, but gives the most.” By this, he referred to his unremarkable appearance despite his great genius.
Someone may be pretty and charming, but not truly beautiful. A seventeen-year-old girl may have a pretty face, be well-dressed, and speak sweetly—and yet a seventy-year-old woman, without makeup and in simple clothes, may be more beautiful because she is more soulful. From the younger one, there might emanate only vanity: “Look how pretty I am!” But from the older one might shine true beauty and spiritual nobility.
No one is so attractive that spiritual emptiness cannot make them appear ugly. And no one is so unattractive that their entire being cannot radiate with the great beauty of spirit and character.
On the whole, it cannot be denied that women have won the game when it comes to beauty. You never seriously hear people searching for the most handsome man. Even Muhammad said that God gave two-thirds of all beauty to women.
Madame Skłodowska-Curie, the greatest Slavic scientist, possessed a beautiful soul. That is why she could say: “A scientist in the laboratory is not just a technician; they are a child who looks at science as if it were a fairy tale. They see beauty in science.” And the beauty in the science of life, which has no beginning or end and is invincible, is even greater. Not fear—but life triumphs.
Beauty is a companion of love. It is said that love is blind. And why? Because it does not see what it does not want to see. But it is very sharp-eyed and perceptive when it wishes to see what it loves. Therefore, the greatest beauty can be seen only in what we love, even if others see no beauty in it.
Beauty is a companion of life. I do not know of any sculptor or painter who would choose a corpse as a model. Whether they sculpt in clay or paint on lifeless canvas, their work stands out in beauty only to the extent that they manage to breathe life into the canvas or marble.
No one denies the beauty of nature. And nature knows no unnecessary embellishments or purposeless adornments that are not grounded in the structure and purpose of things. Who would not feel offended by a pillar or column that supports nothing? How beautiful is a ship when it majestically sails the sea, in the element for which it was built! And what a difference from a ship that is merely imitated on stage!
Beauty must be organic. It seems that even women’s fashion is steadily approaching this understanding. In the past, beauty was found in the mutilation of the body, so we turn away in disgust from the era that ruled even just a quarter-century ago and marvel at how much of a decline the Middle Ages represented compared to pagan Rome when it comes to the sense of beauty and its appreciation.
Our time is returning in part to the old Greco-Roman culture of the beautiful body, and I hope it will be accompanied by a culture of the beautiful spirit, so that to the motto: a healthy spirit in a healthy body we may add: a beautiful spirit in a beautiful body.
True beauty is moral. Beauty is a universal value. It penetrates everything and everyone. It is divine. By perceiving beauty, we draw closer to the throne of the Highest. Whoever has experienced beauty has felt something sacred within themselves.
The primitive man does not perceive beauty consciously; he does not see, hear, or sense God in the breath of all nature, in the life of plants, insects, and birds, in the rustling of forests and the beauty of sunbeams. Instead, he takes a piece of wood or stone, fashions the likeness of a man or an animal, kneels before it, and prays.
But for one whose eyes have been opened, they look out the window at the garden or the sky, or notice a ray of sunlight gilding their window—they see beauty, they see life, they see God, they experience the feeling of something great and mysterious—and in seeing this, they pray.
I saw a cottage built with a fine sense of beauty. The hills formed its backdrop, a stream wound below its foot like a loyal servant, and the sunlight, harnessed to serve that cottage, moved throughout the day to bring light and beauty to every window. Whoever passed by and had a sense for beauty, stopped and prayed in enjoyment and admiration.
I know a brother whose beauty is his smile, which settled on his face years ago. Since then, anyone who meets him feels freer in their soul, gains the sense that truth, goodness, and beauty exist in the world— and therefore, they are glad to be alive.
I once walked behind a boy carrying a bouquet of roses. I walked through air saturated with their fragrance. Such is the life of certain people. Wherever they go, the air is saturated with the fragrance of their beautiful soul. You would follow them to your death. But you have a greater task: to make your own life a monument to beauty, so that whoever passes by feels that here lived and walked a person who had a beautiful soul.
The economy of nature. – The Victoria Regia and reeds. – A fellow countryman in America. – In a Slovak hut. – The poet of poverty. – Rutherford and Oliver Lodge. – Atoms. – Weeds. – A successful merchant. – A seed. – Radio waves. – The citizen and a house. – The spirit of the unfortunate. – Before Edison. – Days of new opportunities.
A good mood is strongly supported by the spirit of abundance. Let us strive to acquaint ourselves with it!
The world in which we live is not a poor world. It is a world of immense possibilities, governed by the law of abundance. Every deficiency is a deficiency of knowledge or action, or both.
Whoever has looked into the economy of nature must have realised that it is ruled by the law of lavish abundance—of flowers, fruits, seeds, beginnings of life, possibilities for new forms; that there is an inexhaustible wealth of everything that serves to maintain fullness, beauty, and health.
What a pity! – There are so many good people who studied only to spend their whole lives preaching to others how miserable they are and how the whole world lies in wickedness. I, too, was in danger of becoming a preacher of poverty and that philosophy of worms. Today, I do the opposite: I would like to proclaim in every square, in every cinema, school, and church the joyful news of abundance, joy, health, youth, strength, and success!
Every person desires health, love, and abundance! However, bad life philosophies prevent many from achieving their desires because they see darkness everywhere—abysses, deserts, the seeds of disease, a world full of evil and traps.
One of the cultivators of the famous Victoria Regia [giant water lily] at the university botanical garden in Prague invited me to come and see it. Visitors were most attracted by its regal flower and the fact that it blooms in the evening and closes by morning. I was particularly fascinated by its leaves, one and a half metres in diameter, shaped like small boats. It seemed as if they were waiting for a boy to sit on them and float away. From a small seed, this remarkable plant grows quickly, finding in its surroundings all the materials necessary for the magnificent construction of its leaves, fruits, and above all, its splendid flower.
If ordinary reeds could speak, they would probably say: “I’m unlucky, this is my fate, the soil and water are against me, there is nothing here that can improve my lot; I live in poverty and scarcity.” But all complaints are in vain; the reed does not possess the soul of a Victoria Regia, like a thistle does not have the nature of a rose.
I knew an educated and strong fellow countryman. He came to America and had better opportunities than many others because he spoke English and had some capital. However, he achieved no more than any pauper in the poorest of lands: he became a drunkard. He had education and money, but his spirit was that of a beggar.
Before the invention of large telescopes, people feared that the heavens were small and that there wouldn’t be room for everyone. Later, when they began travelling around the entire Earth, which once seemed infinite, they reasoned that it was too small to sustain even more people. How many remain completely unaware of the enormous resources of the Earth that have yet to be tapped!
I am convinced that we cannot see the forest for the trees, that we are drowning in abundance while still remaining poor and destitute.
There is a spirit of poverty and a spirit of abundance. To those who have the spirit of abundance, more will be given, while those who lack it will lose even what they have.
However, a person with the spirit of poverty can reorient themselves and cultivate the spirit and mindset of abundance.
In Slovakia, I entered a hut. A sick man was lying there, struggling to breathe. To keep him warm, they cooked where he lay. To keep the heat in, they didn’t ventilate the room. To pass the time, he smoked. So he wouldn’t feel lonely, he invited neighbours, who all smoked as well. In his view, these were all comforts, but what poverty and poison were in it all!
The person with the spirit of abundance is entirely different! At home, he has plenty of air, and still he goes into the forest to breathe even more of it. His body is clean, and yet he bathes again. His stomach is healthy, and still he takes care to eat properly. He works hard during the day, and yet in the evening, he checks which muscles remained contracted or unused, so he can stretch them! That is the spirit of abundance.
Who does not know a woman with troubles up to her neck and worries over her head? And what does she do? She looks for someone else who also has troubles and worries so they can talk about their miseries and pile misery upon misery! Misery loves company.
For example, as one of our poets wrote: “I love the flower because it withers, the animal because it will die; the human because they will perish and be no more, because they will be gone forever. I love—more than love—I worship God, because he is not.”
May healthy reason keep us away from such a spirit! I love the flower because it lives, blooms, and smells sweet; the animal because it leaps and defends itself; the bird because it sings; the human because their heart beats, because love shines from their eyes; I love God and am thrilled by his presence, for I see and sense him everywhere.
I would rather be the sand where children jump and play, I would rather be a stream where a weary person can cool their feet, I would rather be a flower that blooms anew every spring than a poet who writes about misery and death, and brings dark shadows of pessimism and spiritual desolation to places where there is any little light.
The mood of abundance is not the offspring of empty visions; it is the true heir of boundless treasures, placing itself under the influence of the eternal law of abundance that governs the universe.
The renowned physicist Rutherford assures us that even in such a tiny particle of radium, small enough to fit on the edge of a blade, there is energy sufficient to lift the British naval fleet onto Mont Blanc.
Another great physicist, Oliver Lodge, asserts that if it were possible to split the atom, of which there are millions in a grain of sand, enough energy would be released to power the machines of the entire world, eliminating the need for other energy sources.
To someone unfamiliar with the structure of the atom, this is as incomprehensible as my claim that even the weakest and most wretched among us contain forces that cannot be exhausted over an entire lifetime.
It often seems to me as if the law of abundance is most effectively utilised by weeds: how quickly they grow, how tenaciously they cling, how they resist all efforts to uproot them!
Abundance exists: it surrounds and permeates us, imposes itself upon us. It is like coal: it was always there, yet people froze before they learned to mine it. It is like steam and electricity and everything else that lay dormant for thousands of years before humanity harnessed it.
I ask people who have achieved something in life how they did it, and I always hear the same thing: they had the spirit of abundance. When I inquire how those who were once wealthy fell into poverty, I realise they had the spirit of a beggar even when they were rich.
I still recall a conversation with a certain businessman. When I listened to how his great business grew from such humble beginnings, how he undertook tasks that many would have deemed impossible, how every obstacle spurred him to greater effort, and how a single refrain echoed in his speech—that he must succeed—I thought to myself: this is the spirit of abundance and prosperity, the mindset that leads to the realisation of everything one vividly envisions and wisely strives for.
One of nature’s greatest marvels is the seed. Who can fully explain the abundance, fullness, wisdom, beauty, and perfection hidden within it? How do we unlock everything that is contained within a seed? Simply prepare the soil for it, meet its needs a little, water it, loosen the ground a bit, and give it an opportunity to develop! We are far more than a seed: we can prepare the soil for ourselves, we have the ability to direct ourselves, and we can adapt our surroundings to suit us!
A fine example is radio waves. One boy knows nothing about them and learns nothing. Another boy stops everyone he can to ask how to “catch the waves,” until he too can boast about tuning into concerts at will!
A certain man assured me that one day he would have his own little house, though he didn’t yet know how it would happen. Later, I saw him struggling with a stone. He said, “This is a rotten stone, but I’ll still find some use for it. There’s plenty of good stone here, though, and that will be for the foundations.” I met him again, and he happily told me that the stream had carried him piles of excellent sand—while others were complaining about the floods. And later, I saw him making and drying bricks in the sun. He said it was slow-going, and he was having trouble getting a building permit. It’s inconceivable that this “poor” man won’t eventually have his own house because he already has the spirit of that house, the vision of it, firmly believes in it, and strives for it day and night.
Another man went fishing but never caught anything. He complained that he had no luck, that the fish always avoided the spot where he cast his line. I said, “Why not try somewhere else?” “It won’t help,” he replied.
Others caught fish; he never did. The fish were there, but he caught none.
“Then ask the others how they are doing it!”
“It’s pointless; I’m always unlucky. Fish practically swim into others’ hands, but every single one avoids me.”
He believed in failure, and it was futile to tell him anything about a better rod, proper bait, holding still, waiting patiently, and so on.
A certain handsome young man with a decent income lamented that he wanted to get married so badly but couldn’t court a girl successfully. One might think there aren’t such cases, but they exist.
Around the time Edison was born, there lived in Washington a man who had an education and talent but who gave up any effort to engage publicly or work privately on a useful problem because he concluded: I was born too late; all inventions have already been invented, all lands discovered, all great books written, all conceivable machines perfected, even all great wars fought and battles for freedom completed. In short, all opportunities have already passed, and all that’s left, is to dwell on the past, write about what others achieved and discovered, and celebrate the greatness and glory of dead heroes. And that wasn’t worth it to him.
We all know how wrong he was. At that time, Edison was just being born. No one had yet imagined the telephone, the radio, aeroplanes, and thousands of other things—and yet he thought there was nothing left to think about, no work to do, nothing worth dedicating himself to. Humanity was only beginning to grasp its potential, only starting to realise that the golden age of humanity was still ahead.
Today is a day of opportunities like never before. Let us not linger with those who wish to turn their backs to the sun and direct their faces only to bygone ages, to nights of dreams and memories of powerlessness. New days and opportunities are knocking on our doors, a path lies ahead for the bold walkers, an avenue full of flowers, and above it, the sun’s rays intertwine with the peaks of success, adorned with honours for all who hasten towards them with confidence in themselves.
Opportunities are born with every new day. Within us arise the stars of our happiness and life success; within reach of our hands and our effort lies our victory. Let us believe in abundance, in success, in health, in a beautiful, great life! Let us step once more into life with a smile, with humour, and with faith in success!
Creative thinking. – Examples of people with imagination. – A village near Prague. – There is a lack of spiritual engineering. – Five stages in creating a new life according to a plan. – The new human. – The rubbish heap in the soul. – What is greater than imagination. – The truest essence of the human. – The custom of old Czechs. – The body as the workshop of the spirit. – Great awareness and tranquillity.
Imagination or creative thinking is a sign that humanity is intimately related to the Power through which the world was created. It is a bold statement, but it does not even remotely capture the full reality. Without creative thinking, the world would only be a world of animals, and all that is beautiful, good, and great, which has come from human hands, would be unknown. Without divine imagination, there would be no magnificent starry worlds, no beauty or grandeur in nature. There would only be a desert and grey, formless matter.
The higher a person’s level of achievement is, the more traces of their creative spirit can be found; the lower, the more monotonous is their life and the surroundings they create.
Step into the household of a person without imagination, and you will find nothing interesting; everything repels you. Even if they were the greatest of the wealthy, without imagination, they would remain below the level of any poor person with imagination.
Without imagination, there would be no inventions or discoveries. Columbus held a new land in his imagination, and this vision made him courageous, inventive, and persistent until he finally discovered his America.
All progress in the world, in government of states, industry, education, and healthcare, depends on the good imagination and good will of leaders and those who follow them.
Without imagination, a shoemaker cannot be a good shoemaker, a painter cannot be a good painter, nor a blacksmith. A farrier who cannot first create the proper shape of a horseshoe in his mind will never forge it correctly.
A certain man criticised his wife for the disorder in their home, saying that every corner was full of rags and everything was untidy. He said: “You should see how nicely everything is arranged at our neighbour's house.” She replied: “Just give me the money to buy a larger wardrobe and linen cabinet and rent a bigger apartment—and you’ll see.” But how surprised she was when she learned that this neighbour was even poorer, and that rags, brooms, and other household necessities were stored in ordinary boxes covered with hand-embroidered cloths. That was imagination! Another example: A young man lives in a household with children, a garden, and several rooms. He finds himself bored, unsure what to do, how to engage himself, or where to find fulfilment. He lacks and does not cultivate imagination. Meanwhile, another young man enlivens and cheers the entire house. The children cling to him, the garden seems to smile at him, and every room is beautified by something his hand has touched: he has imagination.
Near Prague, there is a village that is a typical example of ugliness. Not a single road there is maintained, the village square is a marsh, and in the rain, people wade ankle-deep in mud. There is nothing there, even in the slightest, to suggest that the inhabitants share any common interests. Simply put: they cannot envision their village as better, more beautiful, or more orderly. In their imagination, there is no concept of communal pride, no sense of embodying solidarity and cooperation in the way their village speaks to anyone passing through.
Of course, I could name ten villages where every step reveals the imagination of prudent, progressive, and cultured people.
When a person seeks beauty or chases happiness and then actually finds it, they find it like the woman who found her glasses: she found them on her own nose, even though she had searched the entire house and garden. If a person does not find what makes life desirable and beautiful within themselves, they search elsewhere in vain. And if they do find it within themselves, they find it in their imagination—first as an idea, which they gradually materialise, and thus they begin to live in a different world, though it is their truest world. That world reflects in everything surrounding them and is embodied in everything they do and create.
If someone lives beautifully out of habit, because it was a tradition in their home which they themselves adopted, they deserve respect. But greater is the one who lives beautifully with intent, for whom life is the creation of new values.
It seems natural for a person to choose their clothes, home, furniture, reading material, entertainment, and household arrangements. Yet, they leave their mood—upon which their peace, joy, or sorrow depends—to chance.
There are consultants and experts for all sorts of things: for interpreting and enforcing laws, for tailoring clothes, for designing homes and gardens, for treating physical ailments. But for spiritual engineering, for the conscious planning and creation of one’s inner life, we have had no engineers or consultants.
It is the duty of everyone to stop living randomly, “patched together,” and to begin living according to a consciously created plan. This is a higher level of living. This is the life of humanity’s most enlightened individuals.
A person on higher levels of development is called to be the conscious creator of the world they shape, live in, and live for. Their fundamental capacity for such a life is their imagination, their creativity.
We can clearly distinguish five types of activity in creating a new life according to a plan:
First, we create a new image of what we want to become.
Next, we elaborate on this image in detail.
Third, we breathe our soul into this image. In other words, we relocate our self and our consciousness into it; we move spiritually.
Fourth, we create this spiritual image in material form, that is, in actual daily life.
Fifth, day by day, we refine this image.
It is like building a house. At first, we have only a general idea of what it should be like and what purpose it should serve. Then our imagination begins to work on a more detailed creation of its concept, plans, soul, purpose, decorations, and furnishings. We consult someone who knows how to build houses. We tell them what we want, and they create the first drafts. We reflect on them and modify them. Then the details are further refined, and finally, everything is materialised, layering and filling the ideas with building materials.
During the construction, other ideas may occur to us, and once the house is finished, we start furnishing it and have a lifetime of opportunities for repairs, renovations, and transformations, even though it involves material far coarser than the structure of human character.
The impetus for building a spiritual house can be a conversation, a lecture, a reading, or an inner inspiration. The advisor, spiritual engineer, or architect can be someone knowledgeable, or inspiration can be gained through one’s own study.
It is necessary to realise that at the moment we create a clear vision of what we want to achieve through our imagination, this vision becomes a reality, like the birth of a child. It is true that we can modify it, but we can no longer entirely rid ourselves of it. If we suppress it, it enters the subconscious and continues to grow, and if in no other way, it revives itself at least in dreams.
Much depends on the fundamental idea and its moral level. Naturally, we will not create a weak, whining pessimist as an ideal, nor an hysterical fanatic, nor a quick-tempered hothead. It is natural that we will keep in mind robust health, great productivity, a cheerful mind, and successful work. However, all of this would not satisfy us permanently unless we chose a high spiritual level. Once we are building a new spiritual house, why not build it as perfectly and beautifully as possible?
This new person we want to become will continue to walk the earth, of course, and will come into contact with the dust of the streets, but their head will be held high above the clamour of the day and the petty quarrels of people who thrive on sensationalism and concerns about the latest gossip.
This new person will gladly welcome every good suggestion on how to live spiritually, to keep their mind on the same level as the great spiritual world, to maintain their heart in a steady rhythm, their steps buoyant, and everywhere be accompanied by the smile and humour of broad spiritual horizons.
It is undeniable that the human mind is capable of absorbing an enormous number of impressions, perceptions, visions, and ideas, just as even the smallest house can accommodate a multitude of mice, moles, wasps, discarded papers, debris, and rubbish. It is possible to throw all kinds of unnecessary things in there. It is possible to invite all “kind” neighbours to turn our house into a dumping ground and bring to us everything they have no use for.
Someone might object that no one could be so foolish. But I claim that such fools are in the majority everywhere: that is, if we call by their proper names, conversations, worries, ideas, perceptions, or news that most people eagerly embrace.
A person can bear much, but they cannot bear everything without harm. If someone allows too many trivialities, harmful things, and pettiness into their mind, there is no room left for great, uplifting, creative thoughts—thoughts of great style and scope.
Our imagination is of such a nature that many trivial and useless thoughts can burden it, damage it, and make it incapable of taking great leaps and seeing broad horizons.
Many people use their imagination for business ventures, creating precious works of art, inventing, and entertainment, but they do not sufficiently realise that it is the primary condition for creating a beautiful, great, and happy life and for shaping their mood by their own choice.
It is futile to try to calm ourselves when agitation arises if we cannot rely on a clear vision of a calm state that is desirable in such situations.
Above imagination lies the life ideal, created and planned by the best ideals and impulses that arise in the depths of the soul whenever we consciously delve into them.
For myself, I base all my ideals continuously on the firm conviction that values like peace, love, kindness, and beauty are not things that hang in the air or depend upon some human approval, but I believe they are absolute values, that they are forces and vibrations present within us from the Soul of all Being (Duše všehomíra), and that through these forces, we are connected to a cosmic power, more weakly or more strongly, depending on how much we devote us to them.
I tell myself: my innermost essence is divine. In this essence, there is no weakness, sadness, anger, or negativity, but only strength, calm, love, and creative power. The more I devote my whole mind to calm, love, goodness, and beauty, the stronger I become, the better I master and enhance my emotions, just as we refine fire.
I do not say that anger never approaches the threshold of my soul, but I do not fling the door wide open to welcome it and let it rage in my nerves and in the rooms of my soul.
I do not say that thoughts of sorrow and trouble never come close, but I regard them as strangers trying to intrude. They are unwelcome, and I have no sofa for them to sit on.
And I consider, as especially important for the mastery we desire, and which is achievable, a daily immersion in the atmosphere of great, healing, and strengthening thoughts and meditations.
The old Czechs of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries had a beautiful custom: every morning and evening, or just in the evening, they would devote themselves to personal and family devotions. They would read something educational and express their desires, resolutions, and their best feelings in simple words through sincere prayer. It was not an empty movement of the lips but an uplifting of the mind to the highest values they revered in the word God (Bůh).
Today, we have different concepts about many things than people had four hundred years ago; we name and understand certain things differently, but we have the same inner needs, the same longing for a great life and for something sacred, which we hold as untouchable, like the apple of my eye.
Today, the rush and haste of life is much greater; the impressions that disrupt us are far more numerous; people are internally shattered and disordered, lacking the strength to ascend to those quiet heights where the soul heals, cleanses, and strengthens.
Yet, we can avoid much of what is unpleasant, and create the conditions for a more beautiful life if we daily cultivate great thoughts, powerful suggestions, and noble meditations.
Perhaps it is not possible to find an entire hour, but how little would we value our soul if we could not find even fifteen minutes?
There is no more beautiful habit than when a person sets aside a moment each day to meet with themselves and to recall the deeper meaning of life.
I am a worker of God. I am a spark embedded in a material body. And in this body, it is meant to ignite into a sacred fire, in which what is undesirable burns away, and what is best in me is rekindled with greater strength to guide my life.
Our body is the workshop of the spirit, but it is also a sanctuary where we meet the Spirit of all spirits (Duch všech duchů). The ray we possess from God only shines, warms, and enlivens us because one pole is connected to us and the other pole to its source, continuously radiating the highest life.
When I devote myself to meditation, whatever else I might neglect or forget, one thing always remains, even if I use no words: it is the awareness of belonging to the cosmic life, a quieting within myself, and a drawing near to that place where all desires fall silent, everything else is forgotten, and what remains is the feeling of the Great Presence of the Eternal (Veliká Přítomnost Věčného).