1 Live in “Day-tight Compartments”
In the spring of 1871, a young man picked up a book and read twenty-one words that had a profound effect on his future. A medical student at the Montreal General Hospital, he was worried about passing the final examination, worried about what to do, where to go, how to build up a practice, how to make a living.
The twenty-one words that this young medical student read in 1871 helped him to become the most famous physician of his generation. He organised the world-famous Johns Hopkins School of Medicine. He became Regius Professor of Medicine at Oxford—the highest honour that can be bestowed upon any medical man in the British Empire. He was knighted by the King of England. When he died, two huge volumes containing 1, 466 pages were required to tell the story of his life.
His name was Sir William Osler. Here are the twenty-one words that he read in the spring of 1871—twenty-one words from Thomas Carlyle that helped him lead a life free from worry:“Our main business is not to see what lies dimly at a distance, but to do what lies clearly at hand.”
Forty-two years later, on a soft spring night when the tulips were blooming on the campus, this man, Sir William Osler, addressed the students of Yale University. He told those Yale students that a man like himself who had been a professor in four universities and had written a popular book was supposed to have “brains of a special quality”. He declared that that was untrue. He said that his intimate friends knew that his brains were “of the most mediocre character”.
What, then, was the secret of his success? He stated that it was owing to what he called living in “day-tight compartments”. What did he mean by that? A few months before he spoke at Yale, Sir William Osler had crossed the Atlantic on a great ocean liner where the captain standing on the bridge, could press a button and—presto! —there was a clanging of machinery and various parts of the ship were immediately shut off from one another—shut off into watertight compartments. “Now each one of you,” Dr. Osler said to those Yale students, “is a much more marvellous organization than the great liner, and bound on a longer voyage. What I urge is that you so learn to control the machinery as to live with ‘day-tight compartments’ as the most certain way to ensure safety on the voyage. Get on the bridge, and see that at least the great bulkheads are in working order. Touch a button and hear, at every level of your life, the iron doors shutting out the Past—the dead yesterdays. Touch another and shut off, with a metal curtain, the Future—the unborn tomorrows. Then you are safe—safe for today!...Shut off the past! Let the dead past bury its dead...Shut out the yesterdays which have lighted fools the way to dusty death...The load of tomorrow, added to that of yesterday, carried today, makes the strongest falter. Shut off the future as tightly as the past...The future is today...There is no tomorrow. The day of man's salvation is now. Waste of energy, mental distress, nervous worries dog the steps of a man who is anxious about the future...Shut close, then the great fore and aft bulkheads, and prepare to cultivate the habit of life of ‘day-tight compartments’.”
Did Dr. Osler mean to say that we should not make any effort to prepare for tomorrow? No. Not at all. But he did go on in that address to say that the best possible way to prepare for tomorrow is to concentrate with all your intelligence, all your enthusiasm, on doing today's work superbly today. That is the only possible way you can prepare for the future.
By all means take thought for the tomorrow, yes, careful thought and planning and preparation. But have no anxiety.
During the Second World War, our military leaders planned for the morrow, but they could not afford to have any anxiety. “I have supplied the best men with the best equipment we have,” said Admiral Ernest J. King, who directed the United States Navy, “and have given them what seems to be the wisest mission. That is all I can do.”
“If a ship has been sunk,” Admiral King went on, “I can't bring it up. If it is going to be sunk, I can't stop it. I can use my time much better working on tomorrow's problem than by fretting about yesterday's. Besides, if I let those things get me, I wouldn't last long.”
Whether in war or peace, the chief difference between good thinking and bad thinking is this: good thinking deals with causes and effects and leads to logical, constructive planning; bad thinking frequently leads to tension and nervous breakdowns.
I had the privilege of interviewing Arthur Hays Sulzberger, publisher(1935～1961 ) of one of the most famous newspapers in the world, The New York Times. Mr. Sulzberger told me that when the Second World War flamed across Europe, he was so stunned, so worried about the future, that he found it almost impossible to sleep. He would frequently get out of bed in the middle of the night, take some canvas and tubes of paint, look in the mirror, and try to paint a portrait of himself. He didn't know anything about painting, but he painted anyway, to get his mind off his worries. Mr. Sulzberger told me that he was never able to banish his worries and find peace until he had adopted as his motto five words from a church hymn: One step enough for me.
Lead, kindly Light...
Keep thou my feet:
I do not ask to see The distant scene; one step enough for me.
At about the same time, a young man in uniform—somewhere in Europe—was learning the same lesson. His name was Ted Bengermino, of Baltimore, Maryland—and he had worried himself into a first-class case of combat fatigue.
“In April, 1945,” wrote Ted Bengermino, “I had worried until I had developed what doctors call a ‘spasmodic transverse colon’ —a condition that produced intense pain. If the war hadn't ended when it did, I am sure I would have had a complete physical breakdown.
“I was utterly exhausted. I was a Graves Registration, non-commissioned officer for the 94th Infantry Division. My work was to help set up and maintain records of all men killed in action, missing in action, and hospitalised. I also had to help disinter the bodies of both Allied and enemy soldiers who had been killed and hastily buried in shallow graves during the pitch of battle. I had to gather up the personal effects of these men and see that they were sent back to parents or closest relatives who would prize these personal effects so much. I was constantly worried for fear we might be making embarrassing and serious mistakes. I was worried about whether or not I would come through all this. I was worried about whether I would live to hold my only child in my arms—a son of sixteen months, whom I had never seen. I was so worried and exhausted that I lost thirty-four pounds. I was so frantic that I was almost out of my mind. I looked at my hands. They were hardly more than skin and bones. I was terrified at the thought of going home a physical wreck. I broke down and sobbed like a child. I was so shaken that tears welled up every time I was alone. There was one period soon after the Battle of the Bulge started that I wept so often that I almost gave up hope of ever being a normal human being again.
“I ended up in an Army dispensary. An Army doctor gave me some advice which has completely changed my life. After giving me a thorough physical examination, he informed me that my troubles were mental. ‘Ted, ’ he said, ‘I want you to think of your life as an hourglass. You know there are thousands of grains of sand in the top of the hourglass; and they all pass slowly and evenly through the narrow neck in the middle. Nothing you or I could do would make more than one grain of sand pass through this narrow neck without impairing the hourglass. You and I and everyone else are like this hourglass. When we start in the morning, there are hundreds of tasks which we feel that we must accomplish that day, but if we do not take them one at a time and let them pass through the day slowly and evenly, as do the grains of sand passing through the narrow neck of the hourglass, then we are bound to break our own physical or mental structure. ’
“I have practised that philosophy ever since that memorable day that an Army doctor gave it to me. ‘One grain of sand at a time...One task at a time. ’ That advice saved me physically and mentally during the war; and it has also helped me in my present position of Public Relations and Advertising Director for the Adcrafters Printing & Off-set Co. Inc. I found the same problems arising in business that had arisen during the war: a score of things had to be done at once—and there was little time to do them. We were low in stocks. We had new forms to handle, new stock arrangements, changes of address, opening and closing offices, and so on. Instead of getting taut and nervous, I remembered what the doctor had told me. ‘One grain of sand at a time. One task at a time. ’ By repeating those words to myself over and over, I accomplished my tasks in a more efficient manner and I did my work without the confused and jumbled feeling that had almost wrecked me on the battlefield.”
One of the most appalling comments on our present way of life is that at one time half of all the beds in our hospitals were reserved for patients with nervous and mental troubles, patients who have collapsed under the crushing burden of accumulated yesterdays and fearful tomorrows. Yet a vast majority of those people could have avoided those hospitals—could have led happy, useful lives—if they had only heeded the words of Jesus:“Have no anxiety about the morrow”; or the words of Sir William Osler:“Live in day-tight compartments.”
You and I are standing this very second at the meeting place of two eternities: the vast past that has endured forever, and the future that is plunging on to the last syllable of recorded time. We can't possibly live in either of those eternities—no, not even for one split second. But, by trying to do so, we can wreck both our bodies and our minds. So let's be content to live the only time we can possibly live: from now until bedtime. “Anyone can carry his burden, however hard, until nightfall,” wrote Robert Louis Stevenson. “Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely, till the sun goes down. And this is all that life really means.”
Yes, that is all that life requires of us; but Mrs. E. K. Shields, of Saginaw, Michigan, was driven to despair—even to the brink of suicide—before she learned to live just till bedtime. “In 1937, I lost my husband,” Mrs. Shields said as she told me her story. “I was very depressed—and almost penniless. I wrote my former employer, Mr. Leon Roach, of the Roach-Fowler Company of Kansas City, and got my old job back. I had formerly made my living selling World Book to rural and town school boards. I had sold my car two years previously when my husband became ill; but I managed to scrape together enough money to put a down payment on a used car and started out to sell books again.
“I had thought that getting back on the road would help relieve my depression; but driving alone and eating alone was almost more than I could take. Some of the territory was not very productive, and I found it hard to make those car payments, small as they were.
“In the spring of 1938, I was working out of Versailles, Missouri. The schools were poor, the roads bad; I was so lonely and discouraged that at one time I even considered suicide. It seemed that success was impossible. I had nothing to live for. I dreaded getting up each morning and facing life. I was afraid of everything: afraid I could not meet the car payments; afraid I could not pay my room rent; afraid I would not have enough to eat. I was afraid my health was failing and I had no money for a doctor. All that kept me from suicide were the thoughts that my sister would be deeply grieved, and that I did not have enough money to pay my funeral expenses.
“Then one day I read an article that lifted me out of my despondence and gave me the courage to go on living. I shall never cease to be grateful for one inspiring sentence in that article. It said:‘Every day is a new life to a wise man. ’ I typed that sentence out and pasted it on the windshield of my car, where I saw it every minute I was driving. I found it wasn't so hard to live only one day at a time. I learned to forget the yesterdays and to not-think of the tomorrows. Each morning I said to myself:‘Today is a new life. ’
“I have succeeded in overcoming my fear of loneliness, my fear of want. I am happy and fairly successful now and have a lot of enthusiasm and love for life. I know now that I shall never again be afraid, regardless of what life hands me. I know now that I don't have to fear the future. I know now that I can live one day at a time—and that ‘Every day is a new life to a wise man. ’”
Who do you suppose wrote this verse:
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He, who can call to-day his own:
He who, secure within, can say:
“To-morrow, do the worst, for I have liv'd to-day.”
Those words sound modern, don't they? Yet they were written thirty years before Christ was born, by the Roman poet Horace.
One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon—instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.
Why are we such fools—such tragic fools?
“How strange it is, our little procession of life!” wrote Stephen Leacock. “The child says:‘When I am a big boy. ’ But what is that? The big boy says:‘When I grow up. ’ And then, grown up, he says:‘When I get married. ’ But to be married, what is that after all? The thought changes to ‘When I'm able to retire. ’ And then, when retirement comes, he looks back over the landscape traversed; a cold wind seems to sweep over it; somehow he has missed it all, and it is gone. Life, we learn too late, is in the living, in the tissue of every day and hour.”
The late Edward S. Evans of Detroit almost killed himself with worry before he learned that life “is in the living, in the tissue of every day and hour.” Brought up in poverty, Edward Evans made his first money by selling newspapers, then worked as a grocer's clerk. Later, with seven people dependent upon him for bread and butter, he got a job as an assistant librarian. Small as the pay was, he was afraid to quit. Eight years passed before he could summon up the courage to start out on his own. But once he started, he built up an original investment of fifty-five borrowed dollars into a business of his own that made him twenty thousand dollars a year. Then came a frost, a killing frost. He endorsed a big note for a friend—and the friend went bankrupt. Quickly on top of that disaster came another: the bank in which he had all his money collapsed. He not only lost every cent he had, but was plunged into debt for sixteen thousand dollars. His nerves couldn't take it. “I couldn't sleep or eat,” he told me. “I became strangely ill. Worry and nothing but worry,” he said, “brought on this illness. One day as I was walking down the street, I fainted and fell on the sidewalk. I was no longer able to walk. I was put to bed and my body broke out in boils. These boils turned inward until just lying in bed was agony. I grew weaker every day. Finally my doctor told me that I had only two more weeks to live. I was shocked. I drew up my will, and then lay back in bed to await my end. No use now to struggle or worry. I gave up, relaxed, and went to sleep. I hadn't slept two hours in succession for weeks; but now with my earthly problems drawing to an end, I slept like a baby. My exhausting weariness began to disappear. My appetite returned. I gained weight.
“A few weeks later, I was able to walk with crutches. Six weeks later, I was able to go back to work. I had been making twenty thousand dollars a year; but I was glad now to get a job for thirty dollars a week. I got a job selling blocks to put behind the wheels of automobiles when they are shipped by freight. I had learned my lesson now. No more worry for me—no more regret about what had happened in the past—no more dread of the future. I concentrated all my time, energy, and enthusiasm into selling those blocks.”
Edward S. Evans shot up fast now. In a few years, he was president of the company—the Evans Product Company. It has been listed on the New York Stock Exchange for years. When Edward S. Evans died in 1945, he was one of the most progressive businessmen in the United States. If you ever fly over Greenland, you may land on Evans Field—a flying-field named in his honour.
Here is the point of the story: Edward S. Evans would never have had the thrill of achieving these victories in business and in living if he hadn't seen the folly of worrying—if he hadn't learned to live in day-tight compartments.
Five hundred years before Christ was born, the Greek philosopher Heraclitus told his students that “everything changes except the law of change”. He said, “You cannot step in the same river twice.”
The river changes every second; and so does the man who stepped in it. Life is a ceaseless change.
The only certainty is today. Why mar the beauty of living today by trying to solve the problems of a future that is shrouded in ceaseless change and uncertainty—a future that no one can possibly foretell?
The old Romans had a word for it. In fact, they had two words for it. Carpe diem. “Enjoy the day.” Or, “Seize the day.” Yes, seize the day, and make the most of it.
That is the philosophy of Lowell Thomas. I recently spent a weekend at his farm; and I noticed that he had these words from Psalm CXViii framed and hanging on the walls of his broadcasting studio where he would see them often:
This is the day which the Lord hath made
we will rejoice and be glad in it.
The writer John Ruskin had on his desk a simple piece of stone on which was carved one word: TODAY. And while I haven't a piece of stone on my desk, I do have a poem pasted on my mirror where I can see it when I shave every morning—a poem that Sir William Osler always kept on his desk—a poem written by the famous Indian dramatist, Kalidasa:
SALUTATION TO THE DAWN
Look to this day!
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence:
The bliss of growth
The glory of action
The splendour of beauty
For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision,
But today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day!
Such is the salutation to the dawn.
So, the first thing you should know about worry is this: if you want to keep it out of your life, do what Sir William Osler did—
Shut the iron doors on the past and the future. Live in Day-tight Compartments.
Why not ask yourself these questions, and write down the answers?
1. Do I tend to put off living in the present in order to worry about the future, or to yearn for some “magical rose garden over the horizon”?
2. Do I sometimes embitter the present by regretting things that happened in the past—that are over and done with?
3. Do I get up in the morning determined to “Seize the day”—to get the utmost out of these twenty-four hours?
4. Can I get more out of life by “living in day-tight compartments”?
5. When shall I start to do this? Next week?...Tomorrow?...Today?
第1章 活在“完全独立的今天”
1871年春天，有一个年轻人看到一本书，读到了对他的前途产生莫大影响的21个单词。作为蒙特利尔综合医院的一名医科学生，他正担心怎样通过期末考试，将来怎么办，毕业以后去哪里，怎样才能开业，如何谋生。
这位年轻的医科学生在1871年看到的那21个单词，使他成为他那一代为著名的医学家。他创建了世界著名的约翰·霍普金斯医学院，并且成为牛津大学医学院的钦定教授——这是大英帝国医学人员所获得的荣誉。他还被英国国王封为爵士。当他去世时，需要厚达1466页的两册书记述他的一生。
他的名字叫威廉·奥斯勒。下面就是他在1871年春天所看到的那21个单词。它们出自托马斯·卡莱尔，它们使他免除了忧虑的困扰：“对我们来说重要的不是去看远方模糊的事，而是做手边清楚的事。”
42年之后，在郁金香开满校园的一个温和的春夜，威廉·奥斯勒爵士给耶鲁大学的学生作了一次演讲。他对那些耶鲁大学的学生们说，像他这样一位曾在四所大学当过教授，并且写过一本很受欢迎的书的人，似乎应该有一颗“特殊的大脑”，但其实并不是这样。他说他的一些好朋友都知道，他的大脑“普通不过了”。
那么，他成功的秘诀又是什么呢？他认为这完全是因为他生活在一个“完全独立的今天”。这究竟是什么意思呢？就在他去耶鲁大学演讲的几个月之前，奥斯勒爵士搭乘一艘大型海轮横渡大西洋，有一次看见船长站在船舵室中，按下一个按钮，立即听到一阵机械运转的声音，轮船的各个部分立刻彼此隔绝开来，成了几个完全防水的隔离舱。“你们每一个人，”奥斯勒博士对那些耶鲁大学的学生说，“身体组织都要比那艘大海轮精密得多，所要走的航程也更远。我要求的是，你们也必须学习控制一切，活在一个‘完全独立的今天’ ，这才是在航程中确保安全的好方法。到船舵室去，你将会发现那些大的隔离舱至少都可以使用。按下按钮，用铁门隔断过去——已经过去的昨天。再按下另一个按钮，用铁门隔断未来——尚未到来的明天。然后你就保险了——今天安全了！……切断过去，埋葬已逝的过去……切断那些会把傻瓜引到死亡之路的昨天……明天的重担加上昨天的重担，就会成为今天的障碍。要把未来像过去一样紧紧地关在门外……未来就在于今天……没有明天。人类得到救赎的日子就是现在。精力的浪费、精神的郁闷、神经的忧虑，都会紧紧跟随着一个担忧未来的人……那么，把船前船后的隔离舱都关掉吧，准备养成活在‘完全独立的今天’ 的习惯。”
奥斯勒博士是不是说我们不必为明天做准备呢？不是，不是。在那次演讲中，他继续说，为明天做准备的好方法，就是集中你所有的智慧和热诚，把今天的工作做得尽善尽美，这就是你能应对未来的可能的方法。
一定要为明天着想——不错，一定要仔细考虑、计划和准备，但不要焦虑。
在第二次世界大战期间，军事领袖要为将来制定计划，可是他们绝不能有任何的焦虑。“把我们好的装备供应给秀的人员，”美国海军上将欧内斯特·金说，“再交给他们似乎是聪明的任务。我所能做的就是这些。”
“如果一艘船沉了，”金上将继续说，“我不能把它打捞上来。要是船继续下沉，我也没有办法。与其花时间后悔昨天的失误，还不如去解决明天的问题。何况我若担心这些事情，我也不可能支持很久。”
不论是在战争时期还是在和平年代，好想法和坏想法之间的区别在于：好想法会考虑到原因和结果，从而产生合乎逻辑的、富有建设性的计划；而坏想法通常只会导致精神紧张和崩溃。
我曾荣幸地访问了亚瑟·苏兹伯格，他是世界上著名的报纸之一《纽约时报》的发行人。苏兹伯格先生告诉我，当第二次世界大战的战火燃烧到欧洲的时候，他非常吃惊，对未来充满了忧虑，几乎无法入睡。他会常常在半夜爬起床，拿着画布和颜料，对着镜子，想给自己画一张自画像。尽管对绘画一无所知，但他还是画着，以此来驱除忧虑。苏兹伯格先生告诉我，他后是因为一首赞美诗里的一句话才消除了忧虑，得到了平安。这句话是“只要一步就好”。
引导我，仁慈的灯光……
请让你常在我脚旁，
我并不想看远方的风光；只要一步就好。
大概在这个时候，欧洲有个当兵的年轻人，也学到了同一课。他的名字叫泰德·班哲明诺，他住在马里兰州巴尔的摩市——他曾经忧虑得几乎完全丧失了斗志。
“1945年4月，”泰德·班哲明诺写道，“我忧虑得患上了一种医生称为‘结肠痉挛’ 的病，这种病很痛苦。如果战争不在那时结束的话，我想我整个人都会垮掉。
“当时我筋疲力尽。我在第94步兵师担任士官，负责建立和保管在作战中死伤和失踪的士兵名录，还要帮助发掘那些在战争期间被打死而草草掩埋的敌我双方的士兵尸体。我必须收集那些人的私人物品，把这些东西准确地送回到重视这些私人物品的父母或近亲手中。我一直担心自己会造成一些让人难堪的或者严重的错误，还担心我是否撑得过去，担心自己还能不能活着回去搂抱我的独生子——我从来没有见过的儿子已经16个月了。我既担心又疲劳，整整瘦了34磅（注：一磅约为454克），而且几乎要发疯了。我眼看着自己的两只手瘦得只剩下皮包骨。一想到自己瘦弱不堪地回家，我就害怕。我崩溃了，像个孩子一样哭了，每当独自一人时我就眼泪汪汪。有一段时间，也就是在大反攻开始不久，我常常哭泣，几乎放弃了做一个正常人的希望。
“后，我住进了部队医院。一位军医给了我一些忠告，彻底改变了我的生活。在给我做完一次全面检查之后，他告诉我说我的问题纯粹是精神上的。‘泰德，’ 他说，‘我希望你把自己的生活想象成一个沙漏。你知道，在沙漏的上半部分有成千上万粒的沙子，它们都缓慢而均匀地流过中间那条细缝。除非把沙漏弄坏，你和我都不能让两粒以上的沙子同时穿过那条窄缝。你和我以及每一个人，都像这个沙漏。每天早上，我们都有许许多多的工作要在这一天之内完成。但是如果我们不是每次只做一件，让它们缓慢而均匀地通过这一天，就像沙粒通过沙漏的窄缝一样，那么我们就会损害自己的身体或精神了。’
“从这个值得纪念的日子开始，这位军医告诉我这些之后，我就一直奉行这种哲学。‘一次只流过一粒沙子……一次只做一件事。’ 这个忠告在战时挽救了我的身心；现在它对我工艺印刷公司公关广告部主管的工作也极有帮助。我发现商场上有时也有和战场上一样的问题：一次要做好几件事情，但却没有时间。例如我们的材料不够用了，有新的表格等待处理，要安排新的资料，要变更地址，新开或关闭分公司，等等。我不再紧张不安，因为我记住了那个军医告诉我的：‘一次只流过一粒沙子，一次只做一件事情。’ 我一再重复这两句话，工作比以前更有效率了，工作时再也不会有那种在战场上几乎使我崩溃的迷惑而混乱的感觉。”
在目前的生活方式中，引人关注的事情之一就是，我们医院一半以上的床位都是给那些大脑神经或者精神上有问题的人留着的。他们都是被日渐累积起来的忧虑压垮的病人。而在这些病人中，只要他们能奉行耶稣的“不要为明天忧虑”，或者信奉威廉·奥斯勒爵士的生活在一个“完全独立的今天”，他们大多数人就可以过上快乐幸福的生活。
你和我在目前的这一瞬间，都站在两个永恒的交叉点上——永远结束了的过去和延伸到无穷无尽的未来。我们都不可能生活在这两个永恒之中——哪怕是一秒钟都不行。如果我们想那样做的话，就会毁掉自己的身心。所以，我们应该满足于目前所生活的这一刻：从现在起直到上床。“不论任务有多重，每个人都能坚持到夜晚的来临，”罗伯特·史蒂文森写道，“不论工作有多么辛苦，每个人都能干好一天的工作。每个人都能很甜美、很耐心、很可爱而且很纯洁地活到太阳下山。这就是生命的真谛。”
不错，这也正是生命对我们所要求的。可是住在密歇根州沙支那城的谢尔德夫人，在懂得“只要生活到上床为止”这一道理之前，却深感颓丧，甚至想自杀。“我丈夫在1937年死了，”谢尔德夫人把她的过去告诉我，“我非常颓丧，而且几乎身无分文。我给我以前的东家、堪萨斯市罗区-弗勒公司的老板利奥·罗区先生写信，回去干我以前的工作。我以前给学校推销《世界百科全书》为生。两年前我丈夫生病的时候，我卖掉了汽车；现在我又勉强凑足了钱，分期付款买了一辆旧车，重新开始出去卖书。
“我原想再回去工作或许可以帮助我摆脱颓丧；可是一个人驾车并一个人吃饭，让我几乎无法忍受。有些地方销售情况不好，虽然分期付款买车的数额不大，却很难付清。
“1938年的春天，我在密苏里州维萨里市推销。那里的学校都很穷，公路也差，我一个人又孤独又沮丧，有一次甚至想自杀。我觉得成功很难，而活着又没有什么希望。每天早上，我都很怕起床面对生活。我什么都担心：付不起分期付款的车钱，付不出房租，没有足够的东西吃，担心我的健康恶化却没有钱看病。但是，我没有自杀，的理由是我担心我姐姐会因此而难过，而且我又没有足够的钱支付我的丧葬费用。
“然后，有一天，我读到一篇文章，它使我从消沉中振作起来，使我有了继续活下去的勇气。我对那篇文章中一句令人振奋的话永远心存感激：‘对一个聪明人来说，每天都是一个新的生命。’ 我用打字机打出这句话，贴在我汽车前面的挡风玻璃上，这样我开车的时候每分钟都能看得见。我发现，每次只活一天并不难。我学会了忘记过去，不再担心未来。每天早上我都会对自己说：‘今天又是一个新的生命。’
“我成功地克服了对孤寂、对贫困的恐惧感。我现在过得很快乐，还算比较成功，而且对生命充满了热忱和爱。现在我也知道，不论在生活上碰到什么事情，我都不会再害怕了；我还知道，我不必害怕未来；我还知道，每次只要活一天——而‘对一个聪明人来说，每天都是一个新的生命’ 。”
下面几行诗你猜是谁写的：
这个人很快乐，也只有他才能快乐，
因为他把今天看成是自己的一天；
他在今天会感受到安全，他会这样说：
“不论明天如何，我已经过了今天。”
这几句话听起来很有现代色彩吧？可是却写在基督诞生之前30年，它的作者是古罗马诗人贺拉斯。
我认为人性之中可悲的事情之一，就是我们所有的人都拖延着不去生活，都梦想着在天边有一座奇妙的玫瑰园，而不能欣赏今天就盛开在我们窗外的玫瑰花。
为什么我们会变成这种傻子，变成这种可怜的傻子呢？
“我们人生的短暂历程多么奇怪啊，”史蒂芬·利科克写道，“小孩子说：‘等我成为大孩子的时候。’ 可是长大之后他又说：‘等我长大成人之后。’ 等长大成人了，他又说：‘等我结婚以后。’ 可是等他结了婚，又会怎么样呢？他的想法随后又变成了‘等我退休之后’ 。然后，等退休之后，他再回顾过去时，似乎有一阵冷风吹过来——他错过了一切，而一切又一去不复返。我们总是无法及早明白：生命就在生活里，就在每一天每一刻。”
底特律已故的爱德华·伊文斯在学会“生命就在生活里，就在每一天每一刻”这个道理之前，几乎因为忧虑而自杀。爱德华·伊文斯出生在一个贫苦的家庭，起先是卖报为生，然后在一家杂货店工作。后来，由于家里七口人要靠他吃饭，他找到了一个助理图书管理员的工作，虽然薪水很少，可是他却不敢辞职。直到八年之后，他才鼓足勇气，开始自己的事业。他用借来的55美元干出了一番自己的事业，一年赚进两万美元。随后，厄运降临了：他替一个朋友背书了一张大额支票，而那位朋友却破产了。在这次灾祸之后接着又来了另一次灾祸——他存进所有财产的那家银行垮了。他不但损失了所有的钱财，还负债16000美元。他精神上承受不住了。“我吃不下，睡不着，”他告诉我，“我得了奇怪的病。没有别的原因，只是因为忧虑。有一天，我正走在街上，突然昏倒在路边，以后就再也不能走路了。我躺在床上，全身都烂了。伤口逐渐往里面烂，连躺在床上都受不了。我日渐虚弱。后医生告诉我，我只能活两个礼拜。我大吃一惊，写好遗嘱，就躺在床上等死。挣扎或忧虑都没有用了，我只好放弃，开始放松下来，闭目休息。连续好几个星期，我都睡不到两个小时；可是现在一切困难快要结束了，我反而睡得像个婴儿。那些令人疲倦的忧虑渐渐消失了，胃口变好了，体重也开始增加。
“几个星期之后，我就能撑着拐杖走路了。六个星期之后，我又能回去工作了。以前我一年曾赚过两万美元，可是现在我很高兴找到一周30美元的工作。我的工作是推销运送汽车的轮船上用在轮子后面的挡板。这时我已经学会不再忧虑，不再为过去发生的事情后悔，也不再害怕将来。我把所有的时间、精力和热诚都放在推销挡板上。”
爱德华·伊文斯进步非常快。没有几年，他就成了伊文斯工业公司的董事长。多年以来，这家公司一直是纽约股票交易所的一家公司。当他1945年去世时，已成为美国进步的企业家。如果你乘飞机去格陵兰，很可能降落在伊文斯机场——这个机场是为了纪念他而命名的。
这个故事的启示在于：如果爱德华·伊文斯没有学会生活在“完全独立的今天”的话，他绝不可能获得这样惊人的成就。
公元前500年，古希腊哲学家赫拉克利特告诉他的学生：“除了变化的法则，每件事物随时都在变化。”他说，“你不能两次踏进同一条河流。”
河每秒都在变化，所以走进河水的人也同样在变化。生命就是一个永不停息的变化过程。
确定的是今天。为什么非要去解决那永远处于变化而尚不能确定的明天的问题，使得今天的美好生活弄得焦头烂额呢？
古罗马人有一句话——其实是两句话。它们是“享受今天”或“抓住今天”。是的，抓住今天，充分过好今天。
这也是罗维尔·托马斯的观点。我近在他的农场过了一次周末。我注意到他引用了《圣经》第118篇的句子，装在镜框中，挂在他广播电台的墙上，好让他常常看见。
这是耶和华所定的日子，
我们在其中，要高兴欢喜。
作家约翰·罗斯金在他的桌上放了一块石头，石头上只刻有两个字——今天。我的书桌上虽然没有放石头，不过我的镜子上倒贴了一首诗，每天早上刮胡子的时候我都能看见——这也是威廉·奥斯勒爵士一直放在他桌上的那首诗——这首诗的作者是印度知名戏剧家卡里达沙：
向黎明敬礼
看着今天！
因为它就是生命，它是生命中的生命。
在它短暂的时间里，有你存在的所有变化与现实：
成长的福佑，行动的荣耀，还有成功的辉煌。
昨天不过是一场梦，明天只是一个幻影，
但生活在美好的今天，
却能使每一个昨天成为一个快乐的梦，
使每一个明天都充满希望的幻景。
所以，好好看着今天吧，
这就是对黎明的敬礼。
所以，对于忧虑，你应该知道的件事就是：如果你不希望它干扰你的生活，就要学习威廉·奥斯勒爵士——“用铁门把过去和未来隔断，生活在完全独立的今天。”
为什么不问自己下面几个问题，然后写下答案？
1. 我是否没有生活在现在，而只担心未来？或者只追求所谓的“遥远奇妙的玫瑰园”？
2. 我是否有时为过去已经发生的事情而后悔，结果使现在更难受？
3. 我早上起来的时候，是否决定“抓住这一天”，尽量利用这24小时？
4. 如果活在“完全独立的今天”，我是否能从生命中得到更多的东西？
5. 我应该什么时候开始这么做？是下个星期，明天，还是今天？