Power Through Repose | Page 7

so well worth gaining), the imps
of thought find less and less to take hold of, and the machinery in the
head must stop its senseless working, because the mind which allowed
it to work has applied itself to something worth accomplishing.
The body should also be at rest in necessary reclining in the day, where
of course all the laws of sleep apply. Five minutes of complete rest in

that way means greater gain than an hour or three hours taken in the
usual manner. I remember watching a woman "resting" on a lounge,
propped up with the downiest of pillows, holding her head perfectly
erect and in a strained position, when it not only would have been
easier to let it fall back on the pillow, but it seemed impossible that she
should not let it go; and yet there it was, held erect with an evident
strain. Hers is not an unusual case, on the contrary quite a common one.
Can we wonder that the German doctor thought he had discovered a
new disease? And must he not be already surprised and shocked at the
precocious growth of the infant monster which he found and named?
"So prone are mortals to their own damnation, it seems as though a
devil's use were gone."
There is no better way of learning to overcome these perversions in
sleep and similar forms of rest, than to study with careful thought the
sleep of a wholesome little child. Having gained the physical freedom
necessary to give perfect repose to the body, the quiet, simple dropping
of all thought and care can be made more easily possible. So we can
approach again the natural sleep and enjoy consciously the refreshment
which through our own babyhood was the unconscious means of giving
us daily strength and power for growth.
To take the regular process, first let go of the muscles,--that will enable
us more easily to drop disturbing thoughts; and as we refuse, without
resistance, admittance to the thoughts, the freedom from care for the
time will follow, and the rest gained will enable us to awaken with new
life for cares to come. This, however, is a habit to be established and
thoughtfully cultivated; it cannot be acquired at once. More will be said
in future chapters as to the process of gaining the habit.

IV.
OTHER FORMS OF REST

DO you hold yourself on the chair, or does the chair hold you? When
you are subject to the laws of gravitation give up to them, and feel their
strength. Do not resist these laws, as a thousand and one of us do when
instead of yielding gently and letting ourselves sink into a chair, we put
our bodies rigidly on and then hold them there as if fearing the chair

would break if we gave our full weight to it. It is not only unnatural and
unrestful, but most awkward. So in a railroad car. Much, indeed most
of the fatigue from a long journey by rail is quite unnecessary, and
comes from an unconscious officious effort of trying to carry the train,
instead of allowing the train to carry us, or of resisting the motion,
instead of relaxing and yielding to it. There is a pleasant rhythm in the
motion of the rapidly moving cars which is often restful rather than
fatiguing, if we will only let go and abandon ourselves to it. This was
strikingly proved by a woman who, having just learned the first
principles of relaxation, started on a journey overstrained from mental
anxiety. The first effect of the motion was that most disagreeable, faint
feeling known as car-sickness. Understanding the cause, she began at
once to drop the unnecessary tension, and the faintness left her. Then
she commenced an interesting novel, and as she became excited by the
plot her muscles were contracted in sympathy (so-called), and the
faintness returned in full force, so that she bad to drop the book and
relax again; and this process was repeated half-a-dozen times before
she could place her body so under control of natural laws that it was
possible to read without the artificial tension asserting itself and the
car-sickness returning in consequence.
The same law is illustrated in driving. "I cannot drive, it tires me so," is
a common complaint. Why does it tire you? Because instead of
yielding entirely and freely to the seat of the carriage first, and then to
its motion, you try to help the horses, or to hold yourself still while the
carriage is moving. A man should become one with a carriage in
driving, as much as one with his horse in riding. Notice the condition in
any place where there is excuse for some anxiety,--while going rather
sharply round a