| Things to Live For |
Chapter 12 |
Page 4 |
These are wise words. We should train ourselves not to think about our own good deeds. If we have done anything beautiful, made a self denial for another’s sake, conquered a feeling of resentment, given help or shown a kindness, the temptation will be to think about it in a spirit of self commendation. But it is better we should resolutely turn from it, not allowing our thought to linger for a moment on the thing we have done. If we stop to contemplate our own virtues, attainments, or achievements, we do not know what the end will be. The only safe thing is to refuse to think at all of ourselves or our work. Self consciousness is always a mark of unwholesomeness. When we say of one who has done a fine thing, “That was well done, and he knows it,” our commendation is obliterated by what follows it. The most beautiful spirit is one that is unconscious of its own beauty. When we begin to talk of the good in us, or in our work, we mar whatever is beautiful.
Nevertheless, there are many people who disregard such counsel, and continually fall into the snare of speaking about themselves. There are many who entertain you every time you meet them with at recital of their ills and troubles. When you innocently and courteously ask, “How do you do today?” you open the gates of speech to an account of poor health, of uncomfortable feelings, of aches and pains, of bad nights and days of wretchedness, enough to crush an ordinary mortal into the grave. If such people knew how wearisome such hypochondriac talk is to their friends, they would break off the lugubrious habit.
When a friend or neighbor greets us on a bright morning, and expresses the hope that we are well, he does not want us to recite in his ears a long chapter of melancholy imaginations. Far better is a cheerful greeting, with nothing but brightness in tone and word. Even if we have had a sleepless night, with bad dreams, and are suffering from a dozen serious complaints, there is no reason why we should talk about our discomforts and our ills. This is not among “whatsoever things are lovely.” We have no right to unlade our unhappinesses where they must become disturbing elements in the lives of others. At least, it is nobler for us to try to carry them ourselves. Then such a habit of complaining spoils the sweetness of one’s spirit, and mars the beauty of one’s character. Talking of one’s frets and worries is surely an unlovely and an unprofitable thing.
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