Heart and Soul | Page 2

has done wrong. And
when one does wrong, punishment follows--one must learn to expect
that.
This same principle confronts the individual in later years,--all through
life. First the nurse and mother; then the father and other members of
the family; then the neighbors and people at large; the police and the
laws. All these embody the same principle, they represent greater force,
without the individual, which interferes with its instincts, its pleasures,
its wishes, which forbids certain things--declares they are wrong--and
punishes, if they are done.
On top of this comes the church and religion. In a more exalted way,
appealing to the imagination and the inner spirit, they nevertheless
apply the same principle. Certain things are sinful and wicked, certain
instincts and desires are temptations, contrived by an evil spirit. If
temptations are yielded to, if evil is committed, punishment is sure to
follow, if not in this world, then in another, a world beyond.
In this connection, it is not a question of any particular church, or creed,
or any particular religion, but simply of the fundamental idea of all
churches and all religions,--the idea that somewhere, somehow, in a
spiritual world of some sort, good will be rewarded and evil punished.
Crudely and briefly stated, it is the same fundamental principle that
begins with the child and nursemaid, and runs up through the highest
forms of church and religious appeal. This is good, you are allowed and
urged to do it, and it will bring reward; that is bad, you are commanded
to resist it, and if you yield, it will bring punishment.
This, then, is what we have called the second consideration in the
problem of life.
There is another consideration, of a different order, which exerts an

influence on the acts of an individual; which causes it to repress certain
appetites and desires, on the one hand, and urges it, on the other hand,
to do certain things against its instincts and inclination.
This third consideration is the influence of reason and experience.
A crude example will suffice to illustrate the principle. A certain
individual eats a plate of sliced cucumbers. Their taste is delicious and
the sensation most enjoyable. An acute indigestion follows, however,
with great discomfort and distress. On a later occasion, another plate of
fresh cucumbers is so tempting that the experiment is tried again, with
the same results.
Before long, this individual will refuse to eat a cucumber, no matter
how fresh and tempting it looks. There is no question of right or wrong
here involved. There is no outside force or command, to restrain him. It
is his own reason, based on experience, which determines him to give
up a present pleasure for the sake of avoiding a future pain.
In a reverse way, a certain individual who is tired and sleepy and
yearns to go to bed, will force himself to sit up and work over annoying
papers, in order to be free for a game of golf, the following day. He
deliberately denies his desires and accepts present discomfort for the
sake of future enjoyment.
This principle, if we look into it carefully and follow it through its
ramifications and side lights, is an active and important factor in the
conduct of nearly everybody. In its essence, it is personal, its force
springs from within the individual--and in that respect, at least, it is
quite different from the orders of parents, or the commandments of
religion, which are issued from without and which the individual is
called upon to accept and obey, irrespective of his own notions or
preferences.
There is still another main consideration in this question of conduct. It
is a very great factor in the lives of many people, and in some cases its
force and influence are overwhelming. And it is totally different in its
very essence and tendency from the other principles we have noted.

This is the influence of love and affection.
A mother will give up any pleasure, she will accept any pain for the
sake of her sick child. She does not do it because any one has ordered
her, or because of any commandment of any religion, or because of any
reward or punishment in this world, or another. There is no selfish
motive of any kind involved in her thought. Any sacrifice of self, she is
ready to make without the slightest hesitation. What she does, and what
she is willing to do is for her child alone--because she loves it and, for
the time being, its little life seems of more importance than everything
else in the world put together.
Now, if we pause right here a moment and reflect we can hardly fail to
realize that we are in the presence of something strange and wonderful.
It appears