Controlling the Mind

People say: "One can't help one's thoughts." But one can. The control of the thinking machine is perfectly possible. And since nothing whatever happens to us outside our own brain; since nothing hurts us or gives us pleasure except within the brain, the supreme importance of being able to control what goes on in that mysterious brain is patent. This idea is one of the oldest platitudes, but it is a platitude whose profound truth and urgency most people live and die without realising. People complain of the lack of power to concentrate, not witting that they may acquire the power, if they choose.

People say: "You can't control your thoughts." But you can. It is perfectly possible to control your thinking machine. Nothing that happens to us happens outside our brains. Nothing hurts us or gives us pleasure except within the brain. So it is clearly crucial to control what goes on in that mysterious brain. This idea is an old commonplace. Yet most people live and die without realizing its profound truth and urgency. People complain that they cannot concentrate. They do not realize they can learn to concentrate if they choose.

And without the power to concentrate—that is to say, without the power to dictate to the brain its task and to ensure obedience—true life is impossible. Mind control is the first element of a full existence.

Without the power to concentrate, true life is impossible. Concentration means being able to tell your brain what to do and make sure it obeys. Controlling your mind is the first essential of a full life.

Hence, it seems to me, the first business of the day should be to put the mind through its paces. You look after your body, inside and out; you run grave danger in hacking hairs off your skin; you employ a whole army of individuals, from the milkman to the pig-killer, to enable you to bribe your stomach into decent behaviour. Why not devote a little attention to the far more delicate machinery of the mind, especially as you will require no extraneous aid? It is for this portion of the art and craft of living that I have reserved the time from the moment of quitting your door to the moment of arriving at your office.

So, it seems to me that the first task of the day should be to exercise your mind. You look after your body, inside and out. You risk serious injury shaving hair off your skin. You employ a whole army of people, from the milkman to the pig-killer, to help bribe your stomach into decent behavior. Why not pay a little attention to the far more delicate machinery of your mind? You won't even need any outside help. I have set aside the time between leaving your door and arriving at your office for this part of the art and craft of living.

"What? I am to cultivate my mind in the street, on the platform, in the train, and in the crowded street again?" Precisely. Nothing simpler! No tools required! Not even a book. Nevertheless, the affair is not easy.

“What? I’m supposed to develop my mind on the street, on the platform, on the train, and on the crowded street again?” Exactly. Nothing could be simpler! You don’t need any tools! Not even a book. But it isn’t easy.

When you leave your house, concentrate your mind on a subject (no matter what, to begin with). You will not have gone ten yards before your mind has skipped away under your very eyes and is larking round the corner with another subject.

When you leave your house, focus your mind on a subject. To begin with, any subject will do. Before you have gone ten yards, your mind will have slipped away before your eyes and be playing around the corner with another subject.

Bring it back by the scruff of the neck. Ere you have reached the station you will have brought it back about forty times. Do not despair. Continue. Keep it up. You will succeed. You cannot by any chance fail if you persevere. It is idle to pretend that your mind is incapable of concentration. Do you not remember that morning when you received a disquieting letter which demanded a very carefully-worded answer? How you kept your mind steadily on the subject of the answer, without a second's intermission, until you reached your office; whereupon you instantly sat down and wrote the answer? That was a case in which you were roused by circumstances to such a degree of vitality that you were able to dominate your mind like a tyrant. You would have no trifling. You insisted that its work should be done, and its work was done.

Bring it back by the scruff of the neck. By the time you reach the station, you will have brought it back about forty times. Do not despair. Continue. Keep it up. You will succeed. You cannot possibly fail if you persevere. There is no point pretending that your mind cannot concentrate. Do you remember that morning when you received a troubling letter that needed a very carefully worded reply? You kept your mind steadily on the reply, without a second's interruption, until you reached your office. Then you immediately sat down and wrote it. In that case, circumstances had stirred you to such a degree of energy that you could rule your mind like a tyrant. You would tolerate no distractions. You insisted that your mind do its work, and it did.

By the regular practice of concentration (as to which there is no secret—save the secret of perseverance) you can tyrannise over your mind (which is not the highest part of you) every hour of the day, and in no matter what place. The exercise is a very convenient one. If you got into your morning train with a pair of dumb-bells for your muscles or an encyclopaedia in ten volumes for your learning, you would probably excite remark. But as you walk in the street, or sit in the corner of the compartment behind a pipe, or "strap-hang" on the Subterranean, who is to know that you are engaged in the most important of daily acts? What asinine boor can laugh at you?

By practicing concentration regularly, you can rule your mind every hour of the day, wherever you are. Your mind is not the highest part of you. There is no secret to concentration, except perseverance. The exercise is very convenient. If you boarded your morning train with dumbbells for your muscles or a ten-volume encyclopedia for your education, people would probably comment. But who can tell that you are doing the most important thing you do each day? You might be walking down the street, sitting in the corner of a train compartment smoking a pipe, or "hanging from a strap" on the Underground. What stupid, rude person can laugh at you?

I do not care what you concentrate on, so long as you concentrate. It is the mere disciplining of the thinking machine that counts. But still, you may as well kill two birds with one stone, and concentrate on something useful. I suggest—it is only a suggestion—a little chapter of Marcus Aurelius or Epictetus.

I don't care what you concentrate on, as long as you concentrate. What counts is simply training your mind. But you might as well kill two birds with one stone and concentrate on something useful. I suggest a short chapter from Marcus Aurelius or Epictetus. It's only a suggestion.

Do not, I beg, shy at their names. For myself, I know nothing more "actual," more bursting with plain common-sense, applicable to the daily life of plain persons like you and me (who hate airs, pose, and nonsense) than Marcus Aurelius or Epictetus. Read a chapter—and so short they are, the chapters!—in the evening and concentrate on it the next morning. You will see.

Please don't be put off by their names. Personally, I know nothing more "relevant" or full of plain common sense than Marcus Aurelius or Epictetus. Their writing applies to the daily lives of ordinary people like you and me, who hate pretension, posing, and nonsense. Read a chapter in the evening and concentrate on it the next morning. The chapters are so short! You will see.

Yes, my friend, it is useless for you to try to disguise the fact. I can hear your brain like a telephone at my ear. You are saying to yourself: "This fellow was doing pretty well up to his seventh chapter. He had begun to interest me faintly. But what he says about thinking in trains, and concentration, and so on, is not for me. It may be well enough for some folks, but it isn't in my line."

Yes, my friend, there is no point trying to hide it. I can hear your thoughts as clearly as a voice on the phone. You are saying to yourself: "This fellow was doing pretty well up to his seventh chapter. He had begun to interest me a little. But what he says about thinking on trains, and concentration, and so on, is not for me. It may be fine for some people, but it isn't my thing."

It is for you, I passionately repeat; it is for you. Indeed, you are the very man I am aiming at.

I say it again with all my heart: it is for you. You are exactly the man I am trying to reach.

Throw away the suggestion, and you throw away the most precious suggestion that was ever offered to you. It is not my suggestion. It is the suggestion of the most sensible, practical, hard-headed men who have walked the earth. I only give it you at second-hand. Try it. Get your mind in hand. And see how the process cures half the evils of life—especially worry, that miserable, avoidable, shameful disease—worry!

Reject this advice, and you reject the most valuable advice ever offered to you. It is not my advice. It comes from the most sensible, practical, hard-headed people who have ever lived. I am only passing it on. Try it. Take control of your mind. See how doing so cures half the evils of life, especially worry, that miserable, avoidable, shameful disease. Worry!