Books: Nerves and Common Sense
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Annie Payson Call >> Nerves and Common Sense
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This article is addressed especially to those who are now in health.
It is perhaps too much to expect one in the midst of an illness to
start at once with what we may call the curative attitude, although
it could be done, but if those who are now well and strong will read
and get a good understanding of this healthy way of facing an
illness, and get it into their subconscious minds, they will find
that if at any time they should be unfortunate enough to be attacked
with illness, they can use the knowledge to very real advantage,
and--what is more--they can, with the right tact, help others to use
it also.
To see the common sense of a process and, when we have not the
opportunity to use the laws ourselves, to help others by means of
our knowledge, impresses our own brains more thoroughly with the
truth, especially if our advice is taken and acted upon and thus
proved to be true.
It must not be forgotten, however, that to help another man or woman
to a healthy process of getting well requires gentle patience and
quiet, steady, unremitting tact.
CHAPTER X
_Is Physical Culture good for Girls?_
A NUMBER of women were watching a game of basket-ball played by some
high-school girls. In the interim for rest one woman said to her
neighbor: "Do you see that girl flat on her back, looking like a
very heavy bag of sand ?"
"Yes," the answer was; "what under the sun is she doing that for?
She looks heavy and lazy and logy, while the other girls are talking
and laughing and having a good time."
"You wait and watch her play," responded the first woman. And so
they waited and watched, and to the astonishment of the friend the
girl who had looked "lazy and logy," lying flat on her back during
the rest-time, was the most active of the players, and really saved
the game.
When the game was finished the woman said to her friend with
surprise in her voice: "How did you see through that, and understand
what that girl was aiming for?"
The answer was: "Well, I know the girl, and both she and I have read
Kipling's 'The Maltese Cat.' Don't you remember how the best polo
ponies in that story, when they were off duty, hung their heads and
actually made themselves looked fagged, in order to be fresher when
the time came to play? And how 'The Maltese Cat' scouted the silly
ponies who held their heads up and kicked and looked alert while
they waited? And don't you remember the result?"
"No, I never read the story, but I have certainly seen your point
prove itself to-day. I shall read it at once. Meanwhile, I want to
speak to that clever girl who could catch a point like that and use
it."
"Take care, please, that you do not mention it to her at all," said
the friend. "You will draw her attention back to herself and likely
as not make her lose the next game. Points like that have got to be
worked on without self-consciousness, not talked about."
And so the women told the child they were glad that her side won the
game and never mentioned her own part in it at all. After all she
had only found the law that the more passive you can be when it is
time to rest, the more alert you are and the more powerful in
activity. The polo pony knew it as a matter of course. We humans
have to discover it.
Let us, just for the interest of it, follow that same basket-ball
player a little more closely. Was she well developed and evenly
trained in her muscles? Yes, very. Did she go to gymnasium, or did
she scorn it? She went, twice a week regularly, and had good fun
there; but there was just this contrast between her and most of the
girls in the class: Jane, as we will call her, went to gymnasium as
a means to an end. She found that she got an even development there
which enabled her to walk better, to play better, and to work
better. In gymnasium she laid her muscular foundation on which to
build all the good, active work of her life. The gymnasium she went
to, however, was managed in an unusual way except for the chest
weights, which always "opened the ball," the members of the class
never knew what work they were to do. Their minds were kept alert
throughout the hour and a half. If their attention wavered they
tripped or got behind in the exercise, and the mental action which
went into the movement of every muscle made the body alive with the
healthy activity of a well-concentrated, well-directed mind.
Another point which our young friend learned at gymnasium was to
direct her mind only on to the muscles that were needed. Did you
ever try to clench your fist so tight that it could not be opened?
If not, try it, and relax all over your body while you are keeping
your fist tight closed. You will see that the more limp your body
becomes the tighter you can keep your fist clenched. All the force
goes in that one direction. In this way a moderately strong girl can
keep a strong man hard at work for several minutes before he can
make any impression on the closed hand. That illustrates in a simple
way the fact that the most wholesome concentration is that which
comes from dropping everything that interferes--letting the force of
mind or body flow only in the direction in which it is to be used.
Many girls use their brains in the wrong way while on the gymnasium
floor by saying to themselves, "I cannot do that." The brain is so
full of that thought that the impression an open brain would receive
has no chance to enter, and the result is an awkward, nervous, and
uncertain movement. If a girl's brain and muscle were so relaxed
that the impression on the one would cause a correct use and
movement of the other how easy it would be thereafter to apply the
proper tension to the muscle at the proper time without overtaxing
the nerves.
Some one has well said that "it is training, not straining, that we
want in our gymnasiums." Only when a girl is trained from this point
of view does she get real training.
This basket-ball player had also been taught how to rest after
exercise in a way which appealed to her especially, because of her
interest which had already been aroused in Kipling's polo pony. She
was taught intelligently that if, after vigorous exercise, when the
blood is coursing rapidly all over the body, you allow yourself to
be entirely open and passive, the blood finds no interruptions in
its work and can carry away the waste matter much more effectually.
In that way you get the full result of the exercise. It is not
necessary always to lie down to have your body passive enough after
vigorous exercise to get the best results. If you sit down after
exercise you want to sit without tension. Or if you walk home from
gymnasium you want to walk loosely and freely, keeping your chest up
and a little in advance, and pushing with the ball of your back foot
with a good, rhythmic balance. As this is the best way to sit and
the best way to walk--gymnasium or no gymnasium--to look out for a
well-balanced sitting and a well-balanced walk directly after
vigorous exercise, keeps us in good form for sitting and walking all
the time.
I know of a professor in one of our large colleges who was offered
also a professorship in a woman's college, and he refused to accept
because he said women's minds did not react. When he lectured to
girls he found that, however attentively they might seem to listen,
there was no response. They gave nothing in return.
Of course this is not true of all girls, and of course the gentleman
who refused the chair in the woman's college would agree that it is
not true of all girls, but if those who read the anecdote would,
instead of getting indignant, just look into the matter a little,
they would see how true it is of many girls, and by thinking a
little further we can see that it is not at present the girls'
fault. A hundred years ago girls were not expected to think. I
remember an anecdote which a very intelligent old lady used to tell
me about her mother. Once, when she was a little girl, her mother
found some fault with her which the daughter knew to be unjust, and
she answered timidly, "But, Mother, I think--"
"Abigail," came the sharp reminder, "you've no business to think."
One hundred years ago it was only the very exceptional girls who
really thought. Now we are gradually working toward the place where
every girl will think. And surely it cannot be very long now before
the united minds of a class of college girls will have the habit of
reacting so that any man will feel in his own brain a vigorous
result from lecturing to them.
This fact that a girl's brain does not react is proved in many ways.
Most of the women who come to nerve specialists seem to feel that
they are to sit still and be cured, while the men who come respond
and do their part much more intelligently--the result being that men
get out of "nerves" in half the time and stay out, whereas girls
often get out a little way and slump (literally slump) back again
before they can be helped to respond truly enough to get well and
keep themselves well. This information is given only with an idea of
stirring girls up to their best possibilites, for there is not a
woman born with a sound mind who is not capable of reacting
mentally, in a greater or less degree, to all that she hears,
provided she uses her will consciously to form the new habit.
Now this need of intelligent reaction is just the trouble with girls
and physical culture. Physical culture should be a means to an
end--and that is all, absolutely all. It is delightful and
strengthening when it is taught thoughtfully as a means to an end,
and I might almost say it is only weakening when it is made an end
in itself.
Girls need to react intelligently to what is given them in physical
training as much as to what is given them in a lecture on literature
or philosophy or botany. How many girls do we know who take physical
culture in a class, often simply because it is popular at the time,
and never think of taking a long walk in the country--never think of
going in for a vigorous outdoor game? How many girls do we know who
take physical culture and never think of making life easy for their
stomachs, or seeing that they get a normal amount of sleep? Exercise
in the fresh air, with a hearty objective interest in all that is
going on about us, is the very best sort of exercise that we can
take, and physical culture is worse than nothing if it is not taken
only as a means to enable us to do more in the open air, and do it
better, and gain from it more life.
There is one girl who comes to my mind of whom I should like to tell
because she illustrates truly a point that we cannot consider too
carefully. She went to a nerve specialist very much broken in
health, and when asked if she took plenty of exercise in the open
air she replied "Yes, indeed." And it was proved to be the very best
exercise. She had a good horse, and she rode well; she rode a great
deal, and not too much. She had interesting dogs and she took them
with her. She walked, too, in beautiful country. But she was
carrying in her mind all the time extreme resistance to other
circumstances of her life. She did not know how to drop the
resistance or face the circumstances, and the mental strain in which
she held herself day and night, waking or sleeping, prevented the
outdoor exercise from really refreshing her. When she learned to
face the circumstances then the exercise could do its good work.
On the other hand, there are many forms of nervous resistance and
many disagreeable moods which good, vigorous exercise will blow away
entirely, leaving our minds so clear that we wonder at ourselves,
and wonder that we could ever have had those morbid thoughts.
The mind acts and the body reacts, the body acts and the mind
reacts, but of course at the root of it all is the real desire for
what is normal, or--alas!--the lack of that desire.
If physical culture does not make us love the open air, if it does
not make us love to take a walk or climb a mountain, if it does not
help us to take the walk or climb the mountain with more freedom, if
it does not make us move along outdoors so easily that we forget our
bodies altogether, and only enjoy what we see about us and feel how
good it is to be alive--why, then physical culture is only an
ornament without any use.
There is an interesting point in mountain-climbing which I should
like to speak of, by the way, and which makes it much pleasanter and
better exercise. If, after first starting--and, of course, you
should start very slowly and heavily, like an elephant--you get out
of breath, let yourself stay out of breath. Even emphasize the being
out of breath by breathing harder than your lungs started to
breathe, and then let your lungs pump and pump and pump until they
find their own equilibrium. The result is delightful, and the
physical freedom that follows is more than delightful. I remember
seeing two girls climbing in the high Rocky Mountains in this way,
when other women were going up on ponies. Finally one of the guides
looked back, and with an expression of mild astonishment said "Well,
you have lungs!" This was a very pleasant proof of the right kind of
breathing.
There are many good points for climbing and walking and swimming and
all outdoor exercise that can be gained from the best sort of
physical culture; and physical culture is good for girls when it
gives these points and leads to a spontaneous love for outdoor
exercise. But when it results only in a self-conscious pose of the
body then it is harmful.
We want to have strong bodies, free for every normal action, with
quiet nerves, and muscles well coordinated. Then our bodies are
merely instruments: good, clean, healthy instruments. They are the
"mechanism of the outside." And when the mechanism of the outside is
well oiled and running smoothly it can be forgotten.
There can be no doubt but that physical culture is good for girls
provided it is given and taken with intelligent interest, but it
must be done thoroughly to be done to real advantage. As, for
instance, the part the shower-bath plays after exercising is most
important, for it equalizes the circulation. Physical culture is
good for girls who have little or no muscular action in their daily
lives, for it gives them the healthiest exercise in the least space
of time, and prepares them to get more life from exercise outdoors.
It is good for girls whose daily lives are full of activity, because
it develops the unused muscles and so rests those that have been
overused. Many a hardworking girl has entered the gymnasium class
tired and has left it rested.
CHAPTER XI
_Working Restfully_
ONCE met a man who had to do an important piece of scientific work
in a given time. He worked from Saturday afternoon at 2 o'clock
until Monday morning at 10 o'clock without interruption, except for
one hour's sleep and the necessary time it took for nourishment.
After he had finished he was, of course, intensely tired, but
instead of going right to bed and to sleep, and taking all that
brain strain to sleep with him he took his dog and his gun and went
hunting for several hours.
Turning his attention to something so entirely different gave the
other part of his brain a chance to recover itself a little. The
fresh air revived him, and the gentle exercise started up his
circulation, If he had gone directly to sleep after his work, the
chances are that it would have taken him days to recover from the
fatigue, for nature would have had too much against her to have
reacted quickly from so abnormal a strain--getting an entire change
of attention and starting up his circulation in the fresh air gave
nature just the start she needed. After that she could work steadily
while he slept, and he awakened rested and refreshed.
To write from Saturday afternoon until Monday morning seems a stupid
thing to do--no matter what the pressure is. To work for an abnormal
time or at an abnormal rate is almost always stupid and short
sighted.
There are exceptions, however, and it would be good if for those
exceptions people knew how to take the best care of themselves. But
it is not only after such abnormal work that we need to know how to
react most restfully. It is important after all work, and especially
for those who have some steady labor for the whole day.
Every one is more or less tired at the end of the day and the
temptation is to drop into a chair or lie down on the sofa or to go
right to bed and go to sleep. Don't do it.
Get some entire, active change for your brain, if it is only for
fifteen minutes or half an hour. If you live in the city, even to go
to walk and look into the shop windows is better than nothing. In
that way you get fresh air, and if one knows how to look into shop
windows without wanting anything or everything they see there, then
it is very entertaining.
It is a good game to look into a shop window for two or three
minutes and then look away and see how well you can remember
everything in it. It is important always to take shop windows that
are out of one's own line of work.
If you live in the country, a little walk out of doors is pleasanter
than in the city, for the air is better; and there is much that is
interesting, in the way of trees and sky, and stars, at night.
As you walk, make a conscious effort to look out and about you.
Forget the work of the day, and take good long breaths.
When you do not feel like going out of doors, take a story book--or
some other reading, if you prefer--and put your mind right on it for
half an hour. The use of a really good novel cannot be
overestimated. It not only serves as recreation, but it introduces
us to phases of human nature that otherwise we would know nothing
whatever about. A very great change from the day's work can be found
in a good novel and a very happy change.
If the air in the theaters were fresher and good seats did not cost
so much a good play, well acted, would be better than a good novel.
Sometimes it freshens us up to play a game after the day's work is
over, and for those who love music there is of course the greatest
rest in that. But there again comes in the question of cost.
Why does not some kind soul start concerts for the people where, for
a nominal admission, the best music can be heard? And why does not
some other kind soul start a theater for the people where, for a
very small price of admission, they can see the best plays and see
them well acted?
We have public libraries in all our cities and towns, and a
librarian in one large city loves to tell the tale of a poor woman
in the slums with her door barred with furniture for fear of the
drunken raiders in the house, quietly reading a book from the public
library.
There are many similar stories to go with that. If we had really
good theaters and really good concerts to be reached as simply and
as easily as the books in our public libraries, the healthy
influence throughout the cities would be proportionately increased.
The trouble is that people cater as much to the rich with their
ideas of a national theater as the theatrical syndicate itself.
I could not pretend to suggest amusements that would appeal to any
or every reader, but I can make my point clear that when one is
tired it is healthy to have a change of activity before going to
rest.
"Oh," I hear, "I can't! I can't! I am too tired."
I know the feeling.
I have no doubt the man who wrote for nearly two days had a very
strong tendency to go right to bed, but he had common sense behind
it, and he knew the result would be better if he followed his common
sense rather than his inclination. And so it proved.
It seems very hard to realize that it is not the best thing to go
right to bed or to sit and do nothing when one is so tired as to
make it seem impossible to do anything else.
It would be wrong to take vigorous physical exercise after great
brain or body fatigue, but entire change of attention and gentle
exercise is just what is needed, although care should always be
taken not to keep at it too long. Any readers who make up their
minds to try this process of resting will soon prove its happy
effect.
A quotation from a recent daily paper reads, "'Rest while you work,'
says Annie Payson Call,"--and then the editor adds, "and get fired,"
and although the opportunity for the joke was probably thought too
good to lose, it was a natural misinterpretation of a very practical
truth.
I can easily imagine a woman--especially a tired out and bitter
woman--reading directions telling how to work restfully and
exclaiming with all the vehemence of her bitterness: "That is all
very well to write about. It sounds well, but let any one take hold
of my work and try to do it restfully.
"If my employer should come along and see me working in a lazy way
like that, he would very soon discharge me. No, no. I am tired out;
I must keep at it as long as I can, and when I cannot keep at it any
longer, I will die--and there is the end."
"It is nothing but drudge, drudge for your bread and butter--and
what does your bread and butter amount to when you get it?"
There are thousands of women working to-day with bodies and minds so
steeped in their fatigue that they cannot or will not take an idea
outside of their rut of work. The rut has grown so deep, and they
have sunken in so far that they cannot look over the edge.
It is true that it is easier to do good hard work in the lines to
which one has been accustomed than to do easy work which is strange.
Nerves will go on in old accustomed habits--even habits of tiresome
strain--more easily than they will be changed into new habits of
working without strain.
The mind, too, gets saturated with a sense of fatigue until the
fatigue seems normal, and to feel well rested would--at first--seem
abnormal. This being a fact, it is a logical result that an
habitually tired and strained mind will indignantly refuse the idea
that it can do more work and do it better without the strain.
There is a sharp corner to be turned to learn to work without
strain, when one has had the habit of working with it. After the
corner is turned, it requires steady, careful study to understand
the new normal habit of working restfully, and to get the new habit
established.
When once it is established, this normal habit of work develops its
own requirements, and the working without strain becomes to us an
essential part of the work itself.
For taken as a whole, more work is done and the work is done better
when we avoid strain than when we do not. What is required to find
this out is common sense and strength of character.
Character grows with practice; it builds and builds on itself when
once it has a fair start, and a very little intelligence is needed
if once the will is used to direct the body and mind in the lines of
common sense.
Intelligence grows, too, as we use it. Everything good in the soul
grows with use; everything bad, destroys.
Let us make a distinction to begin with between "rest while you
work" and "working restfully."
"Rest while you work" might imply laziness. There is a time for rest
and there is a time for work. When we work we should work entirely.
When we rest we should rest entirely.
If we try to mix rest and work, we do neither well. That is true.
But if we work restfully, we work then with the greatest amount of
power and the least amount of effort.
That means more work and work better done after the right habit is
established than we did before, when the wrong habit was
established. The difficulty comes, and the danger of "getting
fired," when we are changing our habit.
To obviate that difficulty, we must be content to change our habit
more slowly. Suppose we come home Saturday night all tired out; go
to bed and go to sleep, and wake Sunday almost more tired than when
we went to bed. On Sunday we do not have to go to work.
Let us take a little time for the sole purpose of thinking our work
over, and trying to find where the unnecessary strain is.
"But," I hear some one say, "I am too tired to think." Now it is a
scientific fact that when our brains are all tired out in one
direction, if we use our wills to start them working in another
direction, they will get rested.
"But," again I hear, "if I think about my work, why isn't that
using my brain in the same direction?" Because in thinking to apply
new principles to work, of which you have never thought before, you
are thinking in a new direction.
Not only that, but in applying new and true principles to your work
you are bringing new life into the work itself.
On this Sunday morning, when you take an hour to devote yourself to
the study of how you can work without getting overtired ask yourself
the following questions:--
(1) "What do I resist in or about my work?" Find out each thing that
you do resist, and drop the contractions that come in your body,
with the intention of dropping the resistances in your mind.
(2) "Do I drop my work at meals and eat quietly?"
(3) "Do I take every opportunity that I can to get fresh air, and
take good, full breaths of it?"
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