“Dad’s letter made me angry. I was looking for sympathy，not instruction. I was so mad that I decided then and there thatI would never go home. That night as I was walking down oneof the side streets of Miami， I came to a church where serviceswere going on. Having no place to go， I drifted in and listenedto a sermon on the text： ‘He who conquers his spirit is mightierthan he who taketh a city.’ Sitting in the sanctity of the house ofGod and hearing the same thoughts that my Dad had written inhis letter—all this swept the accumulated litter out of my brain. Iwas able to think clearly and sensibly for the first time in my life.
I realised what a fool I had been. I was shocked to see myself inmy true light： here I was， wanting to change the whole world andeveryone in it—when the only thing that needed changing was thefocus of the lens of the camera which was my mind.
“The next morning I packed and started home. A week laterI was back on the job. Four months later I married the girl I had been afraid of losing. We now have a happy family of fivechildren. God has been good to me both materially and mentally.
At the time of the breakdown I was a night foreman of a smalldepartment handling eighteen people. I am now superintendentof carton manufacture in charge of over four hundred and fiftypeople. Life is much fuller and friendlier. I believe I appreciatethe true values of life now. When moments of uneasiness try tocreep in （as they will in everyone’s life） I tell myself to get thatcamera back in focus， and everything is O.K.
“I can honestly say that I am glad I had the breakdown，because I found out the hard way what power our thoughts canhave over our mind and our body. Now I can make my thoughtswork for me instead of against me. I can see now that Dad wasright when he said it wasn’t outward situations that had causedall my suffering， but what I thought of those situations. And assoon as I realised that， I was cured-and stayed cured.”
Such was the experience of Frank J. Whaley. I am deeplyconvinced that our peace of mind and the joy we get out of livingdepends not on where we are， or what we have， or who we are，but solely upon our mental attitude. Outward conditions havevery little to do with it.
Or take the case of Robert Falcon Scott and his companions—
the first Englishman ever to reach the South Pole. Their returntrip was probably the cruelest journey ever undertaken by man.
Their food was gone—and so was their fuel. They could no longermarch because a howling blizzard roared down over the rim ofthe earth for eleven days and nights—a wind so fierce and sharpthat it cut ridges in the polar ice. Scott and his companions knewthey were going to die; and they had brought a quantity of opiumalong for just such an emergency. A big dose of opium， and theycould all lie down to pleasant dreams， never to wake again. But they ignored the drug， and died “singing ringing songs of cheer”。
We know they did because of a farewell letter found with theirfrozen bodies by a searching party， eight months later.
Yes， if we cherish creative thoughts of courage and calmness，we can enjoy the scenery while sitting on our coffin， riding to thegallows; or we can fill our tents with “ringing songs of cheer”，while starving and freezing to death.
Milton in his blindness discovered that same truth threehundred years ago：
The mind is its own place， and in itselfCan make a heaven of Hell， a hell of Heaven.
Napoleon and Helen Keller are perfect illustrations of Milton’sstatement： Napoleon had everything men usually crave—glory，power， riches—yet he said at St. Helena： “I have never known sixhappy days in my life”； while Helen Keller—blind， deaf， dumb—
declared： “I have found life so beautiful.”
If half a century of living has taught me anything at all， it hastaught me that “Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.”
I am merely trying to repeat what Emerson said so well in theclosing words of his essay on “Self-reliance”： “A political victory， arise in rents， the recovery of your sick， or the return of your absentfriend， or some other quite external event， raises your spirits， andyou think good days are preparing for you. Do not believe it. It cannever be so. Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.”
Epictetus， the great Stoic philosopher， warned that we oughtto be more concerned about removing wrong thoughts from themind than about removing “tumours and abscesses from thebody.”
Epictetus said that nineteen centuries ago， but modernmedicine would back him up. Dr. G. Canby Robinson declaredthat four out of five patients admitted to Johns Hopkins Hospital were suffering from conditions brought on in part by emotionalstrains and stresses. This was often true even in cases of organicdisturbances. “Eventually，” he declared， “these trace back tomaladjustments to life and its problems.”
Montaigne， the great French philosopher， adopted theseseventeen words as the motto of his life： “A man is not hurt somuch by what happens， as by his opinion of what happens.” Andour opinion of what happens is entirely up to us.
What do I mean? Have I the colossal effrontery to tell youto your face—when you are mowed down by troubles， and yournerves are sticking out like wires and curling up at the ends—youcan change your mental attitude by an effort of will? Yes， I meanprecisely that！ And that is not all. I am going to show you how todo it. It may take a little effort， but the secret is simple.
William James， who has never been topped in his knowledgeof practical psychology， once made this observation： “Actionseems to follow feeling， but really action and feeling go together;and by regulating the action， which is under the more directcontrol of the will， we can indirectly regulate the feeling， which isnot.”
In other words， William James tells us that we cannotinstantly change our emotions just by “making up our minds to”—
but that we can change our actions. And that when we change ouractions， we will automatically change our feelings.