Spoken Word Messages - Page 71

Perhaps we have all had the experience of traveling in strange territory, of trying to find a place we haven't been before, and of turning off the right road—and then somehow sensing that we had turned off the right road.  But despite the warning sense within us, we may doggedly have pursued the wrong road until we arrived at a dead end, or until we had gone so far that we had lost much time and had much distance to re-trace. 

There is a profound thought in these words of William James: "The greatest discovery of my generation is that human beings can alter their lives by altering their attitudes of mind."  This is one of the great discoveries of any generation—or of any individual—and in one sense it is simply a restatement of the principle of repentance.  There are times when most of us have need to alter our attitudes. 

As young people face their formal education, there may be many puzzling questions that present themselves, some of which concern the constant discovery of new knowledge, some of which concern the flux and shifting of conflicting theories. 

No doubt all of us are troubled at times by the unanswered questions of life.  No doubt all of us are given to wondering at times about the point and purpose of many things, and even to wondering why we are here.  Such thoughts may sometimes come because we are too close to the commonplace activities of each day—too close really to see ourselves or to see the over-all objectives. 

We recall the often-quoted comment of Lewis Carroll's Red Queen: "Now here, you see, it takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place."1 It does require an earnest effort to keep even with life—and one of the chronically discouraging experiences is to be chronically behind.  Leaving things that should be done sooner, until just a little later is a factor in unhappiness and failure. 

Sometimes we may feel overpowered and depressed by the tasks that lie before us, by the undone things that we have yet to do. 

Among the long list of things that make men unhappy, none is more devoutly to be avoided than hate in the human heart.  And among all the elements and ingredients of which human happiness is made, none of them, nor all of them together, will produce the desired product without love. 

In days of restlessness and of uncertainty, sometimes people (all people, including young people) are disposed under pressure to make shortsighted decisions—decisions that seem attractive at the moment, but which may imperil future prospects; decisions that may seem to come closer to what is wanted right now, but at the risk of placing a permanent penalty upon the future. 

It is an unhappy day in the life of any man when he fails to find sincere satisfaction in doing useful things for the joy of doing them—and in doing them to the best of his ability.  We may have ambitions; we may want money; we may want prestige and position; all of which, as Ruskin observed, are admissible as secondary objectives, but all of which are subordinate in giving satisfaction and in producing essential qualities of character. 

There is a word in our language, a significant word coined by Walpole, but little known and little used.  It is serendipity—which means essentially: something unexpected that you find along the way when you are looking for something else. 

Further in this matter of making decisions: Taking time to decide is frequently an essential factor of safety.  But there is also such a thing as taking too much time.  The power of decision is sometimes seized from us by too long a delay. 

Sometimes when we are faced with decisions, we may well wish that we had a blueprint that we could count on.  We may well wish that we could see the end from the beginning.  As between two jobs, for example, both of which have something to be said for them, it would be reassuring if we knew for a certainty which it would be best to take. 

Sometimes judgment (in the sense of retribution and reward) is thought to be something rather remote—something to be ultimately arrived at but not necessarily now—something such as the "day of judgment" associated with heaven and the hereafter. 

May we look again at this question of compensation: Sometimes it may seem that rewards are long delayed.  Sometimes it may seem that those who are selfish, that those who shirk, those who engage in sharp practice, those who follow forbidden ways, acquire an enviable living and live an enviable life. 

Since Emerson wrote his essay on compensation, it has been difficult to say anything new on the subject. 

We remember as youngsters that there was much magic in a magnet—and carefully we would push nails toward it, or other objects of iron, to see at just what point the magnet's pull would snap the approaching object to itself.  But the moment we discovered that point, it was too late to pull back. 

Sometimes we hear someone say, "I wish I could begin again; I wish I could live life over with what I know now."  It is not an uncommon wish, but time cannot be turned back, and in life no road can be retraveled just as once it was. 

There are many theories of government, many political persuasions, many systems of social orders, many philosophies and speculations as to the place and importance of people.  But whatever the theories, whatever the allegiance, whatever the ideologies, this blessed freedom we have had has come because the Founding Fathers recognized, first, a living God as the supreme factor and force in the universe and in the affairs of men and nations, and second, man as an immortal child of God, responsible to Him in matters of conscience and responsible as brothers one to another. 

Sometimes we well may wonder why we have to live so long before we learn to live.  There are many things we might wish we had learned sooner instead of later in life.  There are many mistakes and misunderstandings along the way: mistakes of judgment, bad beginnings, lost time, journeys and ventures in the wrong direction, unprofitable and unpromising pursuits. 

The role of fathers seems traditionally to have been somewhat less associated with outward evidence of affection than some other roles have been.  As between fathers and sons, for example, there has sometimes seemed to be a kind of a code, not definitely defined, but which suggests some sentimental restraints. 

This month of many marriages suggests some thoughts concerning those who are beginning together.  Songs of spring and love and of undying devotion are good to the ears of all of us.  There would be much missing, much emptiness without music and moonlight and romance. 

It has often been observed that a little learning is a dangerous thing.  And if a little learning is dangerous, surely a little ignorance is also dangerous—and much ignorance also.  Both learning and ignorance are dangerous when accompanied by conceit. 

On this question again of the frictions of life that wear us away: There are situations and circumstances that would prematurely wear us all away if we would let them.  There are rough, eroding experiences that with some of us leave raw, deep wounds, but with others seem somehow to heal sooner or not to cut so cruelly.  In some we sometimes see so tight a tenseness that the wearing process is painfully apparent. 

To be able to close each day with a sense of accomplishment is one of the greatest blessings and precious privileges of life, one that entitles a person to sound sleep and sincere satisfaction as few other things do. 

As young people face the future no doubt there are some who suppose (and some who sometimes say) that they would rather have been born to some other time, that they would rather have lived in some other day—which is partly understandable, because troubles with which we are closely acquainted seem so much worse than troubles with which we are not closely acquainted. 

One might search and ponder long without finding anything new to say concerning mothers.  But need there be anything new?  To say that there is nothing new is not to say that some things should not be said again. 

On this question again of balance: Almost anyone, if he will let himself, can bring himself to seeing only one side of a subject—the side he wants to see. 

The Tower of Pisa has been famous for centuries because it has stood so long while leaning some sixteen feet off center.  In this it is an exception—for most physical structures that have leaned that far have fallen and are no more remembered. 

Sometimes we suffer the symptoms of diseases we don't have.  And sometimes we suffer the symptoms of unhappiness for insufficient reasons.  Often unhappiness comes from overemphasizing the negative side of situations. 

In making decisions or in meeting emergencies, it is sometimes significant to see what a man is most concerned to save.  In case of fire, for example, it is interesting to observe what each man considers to be his most priceless possessions.  In one way or another, all of us are daily demonstrating our sense of values by what we do or fail to do, by what we buy or refrain from buying, and by every use or misuse of time, and talents, and opportunities.