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JOY is the only thing in the world more inevitable,
more universal than sorrow. For whether it take the
form of love or contentment or delight in power, our
capacity for happiness still outranks our capacity for
grief; and however sad life may seem to you and me at
times, we cannot but observe the Titantic gladness of
creation. Even in our own small lives the gladness is
more than the grief, the delight is more than the despair.
Our very willingness to live attests this truth. In
spite of failure and pain and sickness and bereavement
and the obscure prosecution of an incomprehensible destiny,
we are glad enough to stagger on.
Is it not good, therefore, to recognize
this [Page 1] very palpable fact about
existence? And should we not once for all give our desolate
creed of disconsolate suffering, and affirm bravely
that the soul of man does not realize itself through
sorrow and renunciation, but through happiness and achievement?
Indeed, happiness is the test of all success, the measure
of our growth, the boundary of our accomplishment. To
be healthy is to be happy; to love anything is to be
happy; to find out the truth is to be happy. These are
the three ways in which gladness comes to us; and unless
we can attain some measure of such joyousness in body,
spirit, and mind, we may be very sure that we are not
getting the best out of life. Without his due share
of each of these kinds of gladness, no man can be greatly
happy; and without something of at least one of them,
no man can be happy at all.
It is only reasonable to recognize this prime necessity
of health, or the normal physical condition, as the
basis of happiness — at [Page 2] least
one third of happiness. To be comfortably housed, to
be sufficiently and hygienically clothed, to be well
fed, to be properly exercised, to be, in short, at the
top of one’s bodily capacity — no man should
be content with less than this. Yet how slovenly we
are in such matters! Our houses are often a mere storeroom
of treasures, or a clutter of uncomfortable furniture
and hideous bric-à-brac; our clothing, for half
of us at least, is an exasperating menace, hampering
the graceful motions of the body, cultivating disease,
and irritating the temper beyond endurance; our food,
when it is not too rich, is usually ill assorted and
worse cooked; our habits of work, or exercise, and care
of the body, are seldom other than dire necessity arranges
for us. Our constant dependence on drugs and physicians
is, more than nine-tenths of it, the result of gross
ignorance of natural laws; and the other tenth is most
likely the result of carelessness. Why not make a pleasure
of physical existence, by bringing to its regulation
[Page 3] a little common sense, a little
forethought, a little care, a little knowledge of the
simplest laws of health? That were surely better than
to die of lethargy and indigestion. And yet how unusual
it is to see a human being in perfect health and alive
to all the innocent wholesome pleasures of our mere
animal existence! How commonly one sees the miserable,
stuffy, neglected, and ailing body, with no more instinct
for physical enjoyment than the unfortunate lap-dog
which shares the stupidity of its owner.
If
there were no need for social reform other than this,
that there might be less grinding toil for some and
more wholesome exertion for others, it would still be
supremely necessary for the preservation of the race.
We make very lavish boasts of our civilization, our
enlightenment, our progress, and yet the multitude of
intelligent persons who shudder at the mention of fresh
air and cold water is unbelievable; while they still
[Page 4] continue to stuff themselves
with violent medicines and unwholesome food.
This
is only the most obvious and primitive sort of happiness,
such as savages enjoy. It is something to which we are
all justly entitled, but which we have too foolishly
abandoned. And unless we are wise enough to return to
these simple and natural pleasures of physical being,
we shall not only regret it as individuals, but as a
race and nation. We ought to have too much pride to
be sickly and weak. We ought to perceive that beauty
is based upon health, — indeed, that beauty is
only the outward seeming and appearance of normal health.
This is not a visionist’s theory. It is a very
sober scrap of the truth. It does not apply to mankind
at large; it applies to you, whoever you are, who read
these paragraphs. If you are a man and think yourself
tolerably well conditioned, the chances are that you
would be still happier physically if your collar were
not so high, or your shoes not so tight, or if your
hours [Page 5] out-of-doors were longer.
While if you are a woman, it is certain that you never
take a single full breath during your waking hours;
and that if you were asked to walk half a mile on a
country road, you would be compelled to hobbled over
the ground like a ridiculous Oriental.
All
this, of course, is only the beginning of joy, yet it
is indispensable. We must carry an elated chest, that
there may be room for a happy heart within. A careful
regimen for the body will not secure happiness of the
spirit, but it will make us ready for the first approach
of joy. If we would entertain angels, the least we can
do is to be always prepared for them. [Page
6]
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