Chapter 32: Oil Your Mental Machinery

"Prepare yourself for the world," said Lord Chesterfield, "as the athletes used to do for their exercises: oil your mind and your manners to give them the necessary suppleness and flexibility; strength alone will not do it."

To thus keep oneself supple and flexible in mind and body and manners is to keep constantly growing. Chesterfield had in mind an ideal social success merely when he spoke of the necessity of keeping mind and manners supple and flexible by oiling. But the businessman, the professional man, the scholar, the writer, the teacher, the preacher, or any other man who desires to advance in his calling must keep his mental machinery constantly oiled. If he does not, he cannot hope to retain his suppleness and flexibility or the susceptibility to new ideas upon which progress depends and the foundation of industry is built.

In the early days of our history, when the roads of Nantucket Island were few, and those not of the best, notices were posted at various points on the sandy plains, warning passengers not to "rut the road." "The evident idea," says a recent writer, "was that you would make better progress yourself and be more considerate of others, if you would take a fresh path each time you went over the plain, instead of going again and again in the same tracks."

We all know the danger of falling into ruts. If it is not literally true that "familiarity breeds contempt," there can be no doubt that in many instances long familiarity with our surroundings makes us insensible to their defects. If the mind is not kept flexible and thoroughly responsive to new ideas, by means of contact with other minds; if it is not kept alive by constant effort to reach the highest ideals formed in youth, not only will a man's business, his trade, profession, or occupation suffer, but the whole man will also gradually deteriorate. The brain, like the muscles of the body, grows only by use. As soon as a man ceases to exercise his highest faculties in the pursuit of his chosen work, both his brain and his work lose little by little until he ceases to be able to measure himself by other men or to judge of his work or business from an unprejudiced standpoint. When he has reached this stage growth is at an end; deterioration has already made rapid strides.

Nothing is more conducive to progress and more helpful in keeping one up to high standards than taking one's bearings now and then, and making, as it were, a fresh start. Whatever a man's occupation or profession may be, his chances of attaining marked success in it are ten to one if he makes up his mind at the outset that, at least once a year, he will make a thorough study of himself and his methods from the standpoint of an outsider.

It is easy to promise ourselves, when starting out in life, that we will never lower our ideals, that we will always go onward and upward, and that we will ever be found abreast of our times in sympathy and cooperation with the leaders of progressive thought. We do not dream of the constant vigilance that must be exercised in order to keep our ideals in sight; we do not count on all the influences from without and within against which we must struggle if we would remain true to the high and beautiful aspirations of youth.

The only way to be happy is to take advantage of the little opportunities that come to us to brighten life as we go along. To postpone enjoyment day after day, and year after year, until we get more money or a better position, the means to travel or buy works of art, to build an elegant mansion, or to attain some distant goal of ambition, is to cheat ourselves not only of present enjoyment, but also of the power to enjoy in the future.

Speaking of looking forward to happiness, someone had aptly said: "I would as soon chase butterflies for a living or bottle moonshine for a cloudy night." Postponed enjoyment is always a failure. Many young married people, starting out with little capital, work like slaves for years, putting aside every opportunity for pleasure or relaxation, denying themselves the luxury of an occasional outing, attendance at a theater or concert, a trip to the country or the purchase of a coveted book, and postponing even their reading and general culture until they shall have more leisure and more money. Each year they promise themselves that by the following year they will be ready to take life easier, perhaps to indulge in a little travel. When the next year comes, however, they feel that they must economize a while longer. Thus they put off their enjoyment from year to year, scarcely realizing the import of the fact that each successive postponement causes less pain than the previous one.

At length the time comes when they decide that they can afford to indulge in a little pleasure. Perhaps they go abroad, or they try to enjoy music and works of art, or attempt to broaden their minds by reading and study. But it is too late. They have become hopelessly wedged into the rut the years have made for them. The freshness of life has departed. Enthusiasm has fled. The fire of ambition is dead. The long years of waiting have crushed the capacity to enjoy. The possessions for which they have sacrificed all their natural and healthy longings for joy and brightness have turned to Dead Sea fruits.

Such lives, which are repeated in thousands of homes all about us, are almost worthless. They contribute little to the sum of human happiness and progress. Such living is no real life; it is only existence.

Has life no higher meaning than to draw in the breath and blow it out again? Has it no broader significance than that indicated by the dollar mark, or by lands, houses, and a big bank account? Why did the Creator make us in His image and put within us marvelous powers if they are to be mocked or allowed to die without development or satisfaction? If man is to live like a brute, why does he bear the human form, the impress of divinity?

Aspiration for enjoyment and longing for brightness and happiness were not implanted in us without a purpose. They were meant to play their part in our unfoldment, just as truly as ambition, desire for knowledge, or beauty, or virtue, or any of the other nobler qualities of mankind. As a rule, the man who cultivates a habit of enjoyment, who gladly avails himself of the opportunity each day offers to indulge in some innocent pleasure, to brighten and broaden his life by listening to good music, looking at rare works of art, studying the beauties of nature, or reading an inspiring book, will, unconsciously, find himself far ahead in the race for success of the one who postpones all his enjoyment and relaxation until he has accumulated a fortune.