Chapter 12

XII - DANGERS TO AVOID

I cannot terminate these hints, often, I fear, too didactic andabrupt, upon the full use of one's time to the great end of living(as distinguished from vegetating) without briefly referring tocertain dangers which lie in wait for the sincere aspirant towardslife. The first is the terrible danger of becoming that most odiousand least supportable of persons--a prig. Now a prig is a pertfellow who gives himself airs of superior wisdom. A prig is apompous fool who has gone out for a ceremonial walk, and withoutknowing it has lost an important part of his attire, namely, hissense of humour. A prig is a tedious individual who, having made adiscovery, is so impressed by his discovery that he is capable ofbeing gravely displeased because the entire world is not alsoimpressed by it.

Unconsciously to become a prig is an easy and afatal thing.Hence, when one sets forth on the enterprise of using all one'stime, it is just as well to remember that one's own time, and notother people's time, is the material with which one has to deal;that the earth rolled on pretty comfortably before one began tobalance a budget of the hours, and that it will continue to roll onpretty comfortably whether or not one succeeds in one's new role ofchancellor of the exchequer of time. It is as well not to chattertoo much about what one is doing, and not to betray a too-painedsadness at the spectacle of a whole world deliberately wasting somany hours out of every day, and therefore never really living.

Itwill be found, ultimately, that in taking care of one's self one hasquite all one can do.Another danger is the danger of being tied to a programme like aslave to a chariot. One's programme must not be allowed to run awaywith one. It must be respected, but it must not be worshipped as afetish. A programme of daily employ is not a religion.This seems obvious. Yet I know men whose lives are a burden tothemselves and a distressing burden to their relatives and friendssimply because they have failed to appreciate the obvious. "Oh,no," I have heard the martyred wife exclaim, "Arthur always takesthe dog out for exercise at eight o'clock and he always begins toread at a quarter to nine. So it's quite out of the question thatwe should. . ." etc., etc. And the note of absolute finality inthat plaintive voice reveals the unsuspected and ridiculous tragedyof a career.

On the other hand, a programme is a programme. And unless it istreated with deference it ceases to be anything but a poor joke. Totreat one's programme with exactly the right amount of deference, tolive with not too much and not too little elasticity, is scarcelythe simple affair it may appear to the inexperienced.And still another danger is the danger of developing a policy ofrush, of being gradually more and more obsessed by what one has todo next. In this way one may come to exist as in a prison, and one'slife may cease to be one's own. One may take the dog out for a walkat eight o'clock, and meditate the whole time on the fact that onemust begin to read at a quarter to nine, and that one must not belate.And the occasional deliberate breaking of one's programme will nothelp to mend matters.

The evil springs not from persisting withoutelasticity in what one has attempted, but from originally attemptingtoo much, from filling one's programme till it runs over. The onlycure is to reconstitute the programme, and to attempt less.But the appetite for knowledge grows by what it feeds on, and thereare men who come to like a constant breathless hurry of endeavour.Of them it may be said that a constant breathless hurry is betterthan an eternal doze.In any case, if the programme exhibits a tendency to be oppressive,and yet one wishes not to modify it, an excellent palliative is topass with exaggerated deliberation from one portion of it toanother; for example, to spend five minutes in perfect mentalquiescence between chaining up the St. Bernard and opening the book;in other words, to waste five minutes with the entire consciousnessof wasting them.

The last, and chiefest danger which I would indicate, is one towhich I have already referred--the risk of a failure at thecommencement of the enterprise.I must insist on it.A failure at the commencement may easily kill outright the newbornimpulse towards a complete vitality, and therefore every precautionshould be observed to avoid it. The impulse must not be over-taxed.Let the pace of the first lap be even absurdly slow, but let it beas regular as possible.And, having once decided to achieve a certain task, achieve it atall costs of tedium and distaste. The gain in self-confidence ofhaving accomplished a tiresome labour is immense.Finally, in choosing the first occupations of those evening hours,be guided by nothing whatever but your taste and naturalinclination.It is a fine thing to be a walking encyclopaedia of philosophy, butif you happen to have no liking for philosophy, and to have a likefor the natural history of street-cries, much better leavephilosophy alone, and take to street-cries.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, HOW TO LIVE ON 24 HOURS A DAY ***