nclinations each one of us possesses a
capacity for a higher will, the exercise of which, on the side of order
and righteousness, brings into being the greatest power in human life.
The power of character is always in harmony with the laws of truth and
order, and although we must sometimes make a great effort of the will
to do right against our inclinations the ease of such effort increases
as the power of character increases, and strength of will grows
steadily by use, because it receives its life from the eternal will and
is finding its way to harmony with that.
It is the lower, selfish will that often keeps us awake by causing
interior disturbances.
An actor may have a difficult part to play, and feel that a great deal
depends upon his success. He stays awake with anxiety, and this anxiety
is nothing but resistance to the possibility of failure. The first
thing for him to do is to teach himself to be willing to fail. If he
becomes willing to fail, then all his anxiety will go, and he will be
able to sleep and get the rest and new life which he needs in order to
play the part well. If he is willing to fail, then all the nervous
force which before was being wasted in anxiety is set free for use in
the exercise of his art.
Looking forward to what is going to happen on the next day, or within a
few days, may cause so much anxiety as to keep us awake; but if we have
a good, clear sense of the futility of resistance, whether our expected
success or failure depends on ourselves or on others, we can compel
ourselves to a quiet willingness which will make our brains quiet and
receptive to restful sleep, and so enable us to wake with new power for
whatever task or pleasure may lie before us.
Of course we are often kept awake by the sense of having done wrong. In
such cases the first thing to do is to make a free acknowledgment to
ourselves of the wrong we have done, and then to make up our minds to
do the right thing at once. That, if the wrong done is not too serious,
will put us to sleep; and if the next day we go about our work
remembering the lesson we have learned, we probably will have little
trouble in sleeping.
If Macbeth had had the truth and courage to tell Lady Macbeth that both
he and she were wicked plotters and murderers, and that he intended,
for his part, to stop being a scoundrel, and, if he had persisted in
carrying out his good intentions, he would never have "murdered sleep."
III
_Resi
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