Right And Wrong Thinking And Their Results
	Discordant Thoughts <  Previous Contents Next  >

The rule set forth in the last chapter is vital, for it strikes at the very root of all evil. How then may its requirements be complied with? The first step toward this object is to decide what thoughts are discordant.

The wonderful subtlety of these thoughts often hides their true character so that many persons who entertain them are not aware of their real nature.

Some pay so little attention to the subject that discord continually rules their minds. Besides, large classes of thoughts which are discordant are popularly held to be admirable and therefore are carefully cultivated, and those who do not harbor them are censured. This does not change results. All such errors inevitably lead to greater confusion. The list of discordant thoughts is long, and if one sets about the work of their exclusion, he will be led into a recognition and understanding of their character and quality that will far surpass any verbal explanation which it is possible to make; yet definitions are of advantage, especially in the beginning.

Of course anger, hate, greed, lust, envy, jealousy, and all malevolent thoughts are at once recognized as discordant. To these must be added grief and its attendants, regret and disappointment; fear, doubt, and uncertainty, with their sense of responsibility, anxiety, worry, and despair; and condemnation of all kinds, including self-condemnation, with its self-consciousness, self-abasement, shame, and remorse.

All sinful or erroneous thoughts are discordant in their nature, and all discordant thoughts are erroneous, though, in the correct meaning of the word, not all discordant thoughts are sinful.

One error seriously influencing our decisions regarding the character of our thinking arises from the fact that, by many, a lesser degree of discordant thinking is held to be different in character from its more extreme manifestation. The character of a mental condition does not change with any change in its intensity. An act remains the same in its character and in the character of its consequences regardless of ignorance, misunderstanding, or any erroneous opinion about it or connected with it.

Thinking which is held to be reprehensible if intense has the same character in its milder forms and also when mingled with thinking of another kind, even though we deceive ourselves into the opinion that it is praise-worthy in the lesser degree or when in combination with other thinking.

We might as well say that if a weight does not reach a given amount, it is something else besides weight, or that it does not have any effect, as to say that the milder degree of discordant thinking has changed it to something other than what it was when more intense, and, therefore, that it does no harm. A ton is a ton, and a pound is a pound, and both are the same in kind; each acts in the same way in its due proportion. If fifty pounds would break down a support, twenty-five would seriously weaken it, and ten or even one would proportionately reduce its power of resistance.

Mental conditions are just as uniform in their character and action. Anger of any degree, or in any of its forms, is always anger however much it may be lauded, and even when provoked by some- thing which may be thought to make it justifiable. In exact proportion to its intensity it always brings evil to the one who indulges in it. One thought never becomes united with another thought to their metamorphosis as hydrogen and oxygen disappear into water in their chemical union. Thoughts do not have any such relation to each other.

Everyone is aware that extreme emotion sometimes kills, that when it is indulged in to excess, it incapacitates for any kind of effort, while in lesser degree it may pass by without notice. If extreme mental states produce disastrous results, milder conditions must, in their proportion, produce milder results of similar character. Though the disadvantage may be small, still it works its proportion of harm, and the energy expended in overcoming its injurious effects might have been stored up for future use or employed in productive activities.

The mental condition of doubt is seldom recognized as discordant, but is often held to be commendable or at least excusable, as well as unavoidable. While it has phases that are only mildly discordant, yet its uncertainty leads unavoidably to indecision of action; and, when this is coupled with that sense of responsibility which arises out of the anticipation of possible unfavorable consequences, there follows much discordant thinking in the form of anxiety and worry. These are products of doubt and would not appear except for its presence in the mind. The two, doubt and responsibility, are the parents of anxiety, fret, worry, and a large group of other discordant mental conditions. Whenever discord appears, the cause which produced it must be discordant.

Anxiety, though often considered justifiable, necessary, or even advantageous, and therefore commendable, is a discordant mental condition. In its milder forms, at least, it is seldom held to be objectionable; but when the weight of responsibility rests heavily and anxiety appears in its intensity, its true character is clearly manifested in mental conditions that are unequivocal in their inharmonious peculiarities.

Anxiety in its extreme manifestation puts an effectual stop to all progress. When under a keen realization of responsibility, who has not hesitated to undertake a good deed, or, having undertaken it, has not been greatly hindered by the anxiety which attended its execution? These and all their train spring from doubt and fear, and find their legitimate result in worry and its disasters, culminating in moral cowardice and despair.

Many people are prevented from doing what they know to be wise because they fear the result, and often because they are afraid that they will fear in the course of the transaction or at the approach of its crisis. There may not be anything but their own fear to be afraid of; yet they are aware that fear incapacitates, and the fear that they will fear prevents any action. "I can't, because I know I shall be afraid," is a frequent expression of a con- trolling thought, and they who indulge it stand paralyzed by the fear of their own fear; but this which they have themselves created they may themselves destroy.

One of the worst errors concerning fear is found in the thought, old as historic man, that under certain circumstances it is wise to fear. It is easily understood how the old writer, who thought God was a tyrant ruling in anger and desiring vengeance, could readily believe that "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." No doubt that writer really meant what we mean when we use the same word; but he was woefully wrong in his conception of God's character. His declaration and the ideas which caused it were widely prevalent not so very long ago, and have aided immensely in leading hosts of mankind into false opinions and their consequent erroneous actions.

There is a similar error in all those forms and actions of government which rest on fear for their motive and efficiency. It is not possible for any one, either child or man, to do his best nor to be his best when under the dominion of fear; and yet not only parents, but both Church and State, have held that fear is salutary and have acted on that proposition. Untold millions of lives have been dwarfed and perverted, and laudable plans without number have been thwarted or abandoned because of needless fear.

Hurry needs no definition. It arises from the recognition that a certain object must be accomplished, or a certain amount of work must be done, in a given time. If the time is sufficient, there is no feeling of haste. If the time seems insufficient, there follows a recognition of the necessity for haste, and the result is hurry. This grows out of the doubt which creates the fear that the work may not be accomplished in the required time. Hence, it is clear that the root of hurry is doubt or fear. The verbal expression of the idea takes some form of the declaration: "I am afraid I cannot finish in time," which is the natural language of haste and reveals its discordant character. Its essential exists in the thoughts which constitute its root, and which result in the peculiar sensations which always accompany it.

Abandonment of hurry does not involve the loss of anything desirable; instead it results in important advantages. Every one recognizes the truth of the old saw: "The more haste, the less speed." The mental condition which is produced by the feeling of hurry is always an impediment to celerity of action, often causes inaccuracy, and sometimes results in destruction. In and of itself alone, therefore, hurry, like all other kinds of discordant thinking, is a disadvantage in just the degree of its indulgence. Then abandon that mental condition and use the effort thus saved to increase efficiency. Grief in many of its forms is thought to be admirable. Especially is this the case if it is caused by the death of friends. It is then looked upon as an expression of kindliness of heart and as a token of respect and love for the one who has gone.

These qualities are indeed admirable, but they are entirely distinct from grief, although grief has been mistakenly praised for them, solely because its close association with them has led to confusion of judgment. Not to grieve for the loss of friends is condemned as hardness of heart; sorrow for wrong doing is held to be right and laudable; yet we know that extreme grief often paralyzes and sometimes kills, and that not infrequently sorrow for wrong actions is so intense and absorbing as to unfit its victim for activity in any right direction.

Who does not know among his acquaintances those who have so grieved over business losses that they were unable to procure the needed support for the ones dependent upon them? Who has not known grief for the loss of a child to render the parent, for a time at least, incapable of discharging the ordinary duties of life? Many cases of grief have resulted in insanity. It is true that these are results of excessive grief; but all grief has the same characteristics, and such extreme instances only emphasize its injurious character. Gates shows by his experiments that even mild grief unfits for vigorous activities, a fact often noted by every observer.

To praise the milder forms of grief and condemn its excessive indulgence, or to praise it when it is self-contradictory. If the extreme degrees are injurious, the lesser ones are proportionately so. If one is to be avoided, so should the others be. Grief or regret, by itself alone, is never an advantage. It never rights a wrong, nor removes an obstacle, nor heals a wound. Shakespeare was correct when he wrote: "None can cure their harms by wailing them." Wailing only adds to them and makes them worse.

All selfishness is not only discordant in its character, but it is morally wrong; and, though the statement may seem harsh, yet, when accurately analyzed, grief in every one of its forms and degrees, even grief because of the loss of friends by death, is largely if not wholly selfish. If questioned, the mourner will himself admit that it is not the change which has come to the beloved one which causes his sorrow. It is his own loss which lies at the foundation of his grief; and that is selfishness.

If there is any truth in the declarations of Christian religion, every shade of grief for those who have gone before is in direct contradiction to professions of love for the departed. If Christians half believed what they say they do, they would recognize that in death there is not the slightest occasion for grief, but rather for rejoicing because of the change which has come to the one who has gone.

Despair in its extreme manifestation is at once recognized as discordant; its milder forms are also discordant though they may come to the surface under many and praiseworthy names. Even much- lauded patience may be only that form of despair in which one submits to the inevitable. So also is resignation; and often Christian resignation, so- called, is only despairing acquiescence in what are wrongly thought to be decrees of Divine Providence.

There is a variety of despair, often indulged in by many, which is not ordinarily classed as discordant, but which is, nevertheless, extremely dangerous. It finds utterance in the declaration, "I can't." This is an expression of complete hopelessness and voices a discordant thought that will paralyze the strongest; will destroy the best, wisest, and most fixed intentions; will put an end to the best-laid plans, and will terminate the most energetic actions. It injures everywhere and will bring disaster to anything it touches.

The thought, "I can't," makes the difference between success and failure. The dull boy in school is the one who, without making an effort, thinks and says "I can't." The bright boy is the one who thinks and says "I can." In the beginning there may have been very little other difference, only one gave up easily and the other not at all; the life of one becomes a failure, of the other a brilliant success.

The only place where "I can't" has any value is when used as a refusal to think or do wrong; even then it is erroneous in form and does not express the appropriate idea. The correct and more vigorous form under such circumstances would be, "I will not"; for a person may be abundantly able to do what he positively refuses to do.

"I can't" tends toward the cessation of all action-- that is death. "I can" tends toward activity and gives power -- that is life. Since we would avoid the worst of evils, we should cease even to think "I can't." If we would maintain life, we should continue to think "I can." The man who never recognizes defeat finally succeeds. It was said that the great secret of General Grant's success was that he never acknowledged, even to himself, that he was beaten. The man who thinks he has failed soon does so, and he who thinks he is a failure speedily becomes one.

A man was bedridden. His physician said that he had no disease, and that there was no reason why he should not go about his business. The physician was correct; the man was a victim of his own thought. One day smoke came pouring into his room. It was only a ruse of his doctor, but the man thought the house was on fire. Thinking so, to him it was a reality. He forgot his in- ability; the "I can't" thought was excluded from his mind by another which for the moment was more intense, and, in consequence, he got up, dressed, and rushed out. "I can't," and not anything else, had held him in bondage.

Banish even the suspicion of the discordant and destructive thoughts of hopelessness, defeat, or despair. Do that everywhere, especially in the prosecution of the mental training here advocated. Whatever the object, let its consideration be always without a thought of discouragement, even when, examining its difficulties most carefully. Scrutinize all obstacles for the purpose of finding how to over- come them. If the project is worth the effort, there is a way to accomplish it. That way will be found if it is sought with a confidence which excludes all doubt.

Patience is highly lauded and not unduly so when contrasted with impatience; but the two are closely related. If its own special characteristics are examined, patience will be seen to occupy a paradoxical position. When one excludes all of that discordant thinking which is called impatience, he will not have any occasion for the exercise of patience; that is, when impatience is wholly put out of mind, patience also disappears. Therein is its subtlety and deceit, for patience has no possibility of existence without some of those discordant thoughts which attend impatience; and in the cultivation of patience one unsuspectingly allows and cultivates more or less impatience at the very time when he flatters himself that he has abandoned it.

Hence, there is something better than patience, and that is the condition which exists in the mind after the entire exclusion of all impatience. Until this can be attained patience is desirable just as a lesser degree of evil is not so bad as a greater. Patience may be a good intermediate stage in one's progress, but it is unwise to "cultivate patience" as a final virtue because it is only harboring a mild degree of error, which sometimes verges close on despair.

Self-condemnation, with its allied lines of thinking, has been highly commended as a proper recognition of one's own faults and mistakes. It is continually taught both by precept and example from infancy to old age. The little child is asked if he is not ashamed of himself for an act which he did not know was wrong; the man of business, teaches the inexperienced boy to blame himself for the mistakes of ignorance; the moralist says one ought to condemn himself for his wrong doing; the Church universally advises sorrow and regret for sins, and the deeper the penitence, or the greater the condemnation of self, the more laudable it is thought to be; and so on through the whole list of ethical and moral teachers of every grade.

Self-condemnation is a woeful waste of energy which should be directed toward repair of the injury done and avoidance of similar conditions in the future. This does not in the slightest degree imply less sensitiveness of conscience, less keenness of judgment, nor less clearness of sight to perceive the right and the wrong of things, nor less eagerness to do the right and avoid the wrong; on the contrary, its absence gives place for more of these very qualities and saves waste of vigor in both intellect and muscle.

Self-condemnation at its best is discordant; and the various forms of regret, grief over failures, self-distrust which produces doubt and hesitation about proposed or future actions, fear of not succeeding, inefficiency, and repression, are among the many serious and widespread evils resulting from it. Whatever their cause, they right no wrongs, repair no errors, set no bones, restore no life, change no act that is past, and do no good in any way. Their whole progeny is unworthy of any brave, true man.

The energy thus employed is worse than wasted because it is used in work that is destructive, occupying valuable time and absorbing valuable strength which might otherwise be used in repairing damages and recovering lost ground. A man need neither repeat his sins, his mistakes, nor his failures, nor need he condemn himself for them.

If self-condemnation prevails in any considerable degree, there will result such lack of confidence in one's own ability as to thrust him out of his proper sphere of activity into a lower one and to deprive him of efficiency and executive ability everywhere else as well as in this work of securing mental control. Such thoughts tend in every way to the degradation and even to the complete destruction of the thinker. Innumerable untimely graves are filled with victims of self-blame and its products, -- disgrace, shame, remorse, and despair, -- and yet self-condemnation has been held up as worthy of all praise by educated, intelligent, and moral people who would have known better if they had understood its true character.

That the boy does not "cry over spilled milk" does not indicate indifference to the loss of the milk; crying would only hinder him in his efforts to procure more. That a person does not waste time in vain condemnation of himself and his past actions, which were probably performed in good faith and with the best judgment possible on the information possessed at the time they were begun, does not indicate lack of understanding, nor want of discrimination, nor a disposition to repeat the error. That one does not sit in sackcloth and ashes for the crime or sin he has committed is no proof that his determination to abandon his evil course is not sincere.

Our great teacher, Jesus, the Christ, does not advise discordant thinking of any kind. He points out errors, wrongs, and sins, and holds them up to view in their true light, never in the slightest abating their enormity. He tells us not to repeat such things; but, so far as we have the record, he does not any- where nor under any circumstances advise any one to condemn himself or to regret anything he has done, or to grieve over it. He speaks of repentance and conversion, and in religious circles much stress is rightfully laid upon these; but, unfortunately, these English words as at present understood do not correctly represent the meaning of the Greek words for which they stand in the New Testament.

The Greek word metanoeo, which is translated "repent," is thus defined by the lexicographers: "to perceive afterwards, to change one's mind or pur- pose, to change one's opinion, to have another mind." This does not in the least indicate or require regret, self-condemnation, or any other discordant thinking. Jesus' exhortation was always to change the mind for the better, never to spend time wailing over the past, and it is entirely presumable that the connection of discordant thinking with the true meaning of the word arose from the fact that very often such a "change of mind" has been accompanied by thoughts of grief, regret, and self-condemnation; but the word itself does not convey such a meaning, any more than do the phrases which are used to define it. When the word was addressed to one who was in the wrong, it set forth in strictly scientific terms the easiest, simplest, and best method of making a change in conduct from wrong to right, for it simply means " change your mind" -- no more, no less.

Likewise the Greek word epistrepho, which is translated "convert," contains within itself no meaning indicating any discordant thinking whatever. It is defined "to turn, to turn one's self, to turn about, to turn around," etc., and is used figuratively, as we say, "turn from the error of your ways"; or as Peter said in his speech to the people which is reported in Acts iii. 19: "Repent ye therefore, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out." "Change your minds and thereby be turned about" exactly expresses the full meaning and brings the two words into such proximity that their mutual relationship clearly appears. This turning about is the natural and inevitable result of the change of mind indicated by the true meaning of the word " repent." Both repentance and conversion will be better understood, and their object better accomplished, if the thought about them is limited to the rightful meaning of the words, and the judgment is not warped by self-condemnation, grief, fear, remorse, or any other discordant thinking.