MEMORY, HOW TO DEVELOP, TRAIN AND USE IT/PART 6
CHAPTER VI.
ATTENTION.
As
we have seen in the preceding chapters, before one can expect to recall or
remember a thing, that thing must have been impressed upon the records of his
subconsciousness, distinctly and clearly. And the main factor of the recording
of impressions is that quality of the mind that we call Attention. All the
leading authorities on the subject of memory recognize and teach the value of
attention in the cultivation and development of the memory. Tupper says:
"Memory, the daughter of Attention, is the teeming mother of wisdom."
Lowell says: "Attention is the stuff that Memory is made of, and Memory is
accumulated Genius." Hall says: "In the power of fixing the attention
lies the most precious of the intellectual habits." Locke says: "When
the ideas that offer themselves are taken notice of, and, as it were,
registered in the memory, it is Attention." Stewart says: "The
permanence of the impression which anything leaves on the memory, is
proportionate to the degree of attention which was originally given to
it." Thompson says: "The experiences most permanently impressed upon
consciousness are those upon which the greatest amount of attention has been
fixed." Beattie says: "The force wherewith anything strikes the mind
is generally in proportion to the degree of attention bestowed upon it. The
great art of memory is attention.... Inattentive people have always bad
memories." Kay says: "It is generally held by philosophers that
without some degree of attention no impression of any duration could be made on
the mind, or laid up in the memory." Hamilton says: "It is a law of
the mind that the intensity of the present consciousness determines the
vivacity of the future memory; memory and consciousness are thus in the direct
ratio of each other. Vivid consciousness, long memory; faint consciousness,
short memory; no consciousness, no memory.... An act of attention, that is an
act of concentration, seems thus necessary to every exertion of
consciousness, as a certain contraction of the pupil is requisite to every
exertion of vision. Attention, then, is to consciousness what the contraction
of the pupil is to sight, or to the eye of the mind what the microscope or
telescope is to the bodily eye. It constitutes the better half of all
intellectual power."
We
have quoted from the above authorities at considerable length, for the purpose
of impressing upon your mind the importance of this subject of Attention. The
subconscious regions of the mind are the great storehouses of the mental
records of impressions from within and without. Its great systems of filing,
recording and indexing these records constitute that which we call memory. But
before any of this work is possible, impressions must first have been received.
And, as you may see from the quotations just given, these impressions depend
upon the power of attention given to the things making the impressions. If
there has been given great attention, there will be clear and deep impressions;
if there has been given but average attention, there will be but average
impressions; if there has been given but faint attention, there will be but
faint impressions; if there has been given no attention, there will be no
records.
One
of the most common causes of poor attention is to be found in the lack of
interest. We are apt to remember the things in which we have been most
interested, because in that outpouring of interest there has been a high degree
of attention manifested. A man may have a very poor memory for many things, but
when it comes to the things in which his interest is involved he often
remembers the most minute details. What is called involuntary attention is that
form of attention that follows upon interest, curiosity, or desire—no special
effort of the will being required in it. What is called voluntary attention is
that form of attention that is bestowed upon objects not necessarily
interesting, curious, or attractive—this requires the application of the will,
and is a mark of a developed character. Every person has more or less
involuntary attention, while but few possess developed voluntary attention. The
former is instinctive—the latter comes only by practice and training.
But
there is this important point to be remembered, that interest may be
developed by voluntary attention bestowed and held upon an object.
Things that are originally lacking in sufficient interest to attract the
involuntary attention may develop a secondary interest if the voluntary
attention be placed upon and held upon them. As Halleck says on this point:
"When it is said that attention will not take a firm hold on an
uninteresting thing, we must not forget that anyone not shallow and fickle can
soon discover something interesting in most objects. Here cultivated minds show
their especial superiority, for the attention which they are able to give
generally ends in finding a pearl in the most uninteresting looking oyster.
When an object necessarily loses interest from one point of view, such minds
discover in it new attributes. The essence of genius is to present an old thing
in new ways, whether it be some force in nature or some aspect of
humanity."
It
is very difficult to teach another person how to cultivate the attention. This
because the whole thing consists so largely in the use of the will, and by
faithful practice and persistent application. The first requisite is the
determination to use the will. You must argue it out with yourself, until
you become convinced that it is necessary and desirable for you to acquire the
art of voluntary attention—you must convince yourself beyond reasonable doubt.
This is the first step and one more difficult than it would seem at first
sight. The principal difficulty in it lies in the fact that to do the thing you
must do some active earnest thinking, and the majority of people are too lazy
to indulge in such mental effort. Having mastered this first step, you must
induce a strong burning desire to acquire the art of voluntary attention—you
must learn to want it hard. In this way you induce a condition of interest and
attractiveness where it was previously lacking. Third and last, you must hold
your will firmly and persistently to the task, and practice faithfully.
Begin
by turning your attention upon some uninteresting thing and studying its
details until you are able to describe them. This will prove very tiresome at
first but you must stick to it. Do not practice too long at a time at first;
take a rest and try it again later. You will soon find that it comes easier,
and that a new interest is beginning to manifest itself in the task. Examine
this book, as practice, learn how many pages there are in it; how many
chapters; how many pages in each chapter; the details of type, printing and
binding—all the little things about it—so that you could give another person a
full account of the minor details of the book. This may seem uninteresting—and
so it will be at first—but a little practice will create a new interest in the
petty details, and you will be surprised at the number of little things that
you will notice. This plan, practiced on many things, in spare hours, will
develop the power of voluntary attention and perception in anyone, no matter
how deficient he may have been in these things. If you can get some one else to
join in the game-task with you, and then each endeavor to excel the other in
finding details, the task will be much easier, and better work will be
accomplished. Begin to take notice of things about you; the places you visit;
the things in the rooms, etc. In this way you will start the habit of
"noticing things," which is the first requisite for memory
development.
Halleck
gives the following excellent advice on this subject: "To look at a thing
intelligently is the most difficult of all arts. The first rule for the
cultivation of accurate perception is: Do not try to perceive the whole of a
complex object at once. Take the human face as an example. A man, holding an
important position to which he had been elected, offended many people because
he could not remember faces, and hence failed to recognize individuals the
second time he met them. His trouble was in looking at the countenance as a
whole. When he changed his method of observation, and noticed carefully the
nose, mouth, eyes, chin, and color of hair, he at once began to find
recognition easier. He was no longer in difficulty of mistaking A for B, since
he remembered that the shape of B's nose was different, or the color of
his hair at least three shades lighter. This example shows that another rule
can be formulated: Pay careful attention to details. We are perhaps asked to
give a minute description of the exterior of a somewhat noted suburban house
that we have lately seen. We reply in general terms, giving the size and color
of the house. Perhaps we also have an idea of part of the material used in the
exterior construction. We are asked to be exact about the shape of the door,
porch, roof, chimneys and windows; whether the windows are plain or circular,
whether they have cornices, or whether the trimmings around them are of the
same material as the rest of the house. A friend, who will be unable to see the
house, wishes to know definitely about the angles of the roof, and the way the
windows are arranged with reference to them. Unless we can answer these
questions exactly, we merely tantalize our friends by telling them we have seen
the house. To see an object merely as an undiscriminated mass of something in a
certain place, is to do no more than a donkey accomplishes as he trots along."
There
are three general rules that may be given in this matter of bestowing the
voluntary attention in the direction of actually seeing things,
instead of merely looking at them. The first is: Make yourself take an interest
in the thing. The second: See it as if you were taking note of it in order to
repeat its details to a friend—this will force you to "take notice."
The third: Give to your subconsciousness a mental command to take note of what
you are looking at—say to it; "Here, you take note of this and remember it
for me!" This last consists of a peculiar "knack" that can be
attained by a little practice—it will "come to you" suddenly after a
few trials.
Regarding
this third rule whereby the subconsciousness is made to work for you, Charles
Leland has the following to say, although he uses it to illustrate another
point: "As I understand it, it is a kind of impulse or projection of will
into the coming work. I may here illustrate this with a curious fact in
physics. If the reader wished to ring a doorbell so as to produce as much sound
as possible, he would probably pull it as far back as he could, and then let it
go. But if he would, in letting it go, simply give it a tap with his
forefinger, he would actually redouble the sound. Or, to shoot an arrow as far
as possible, it is not enough to merely draw the bow to its
utmost span or tension. If, just as it goes, you will give the bow a quick
push, though the effort be trifling, the arrow will fly almost as far again as
it would have done without it. Or, if, as is well known in wielding a very
sharp sabre, we make the draw cut; that is, if to the blow or chop, as with an
axe, we also add a certain slight pull, simultaneously, we can cut through a
silk handkerchief or a sheep. Forethought (command to the subconsciousness) is
the tap on the bell; the push on the bow; the draw on the sabre. It is the
deliberate but yet rapid action of the mind when before dismissing thought, we
bid the mind to consequently respond. It is more than merely thinking what we are
to do; it is the bidding or ordering the Self to fulfill a task before willing
it."
Remember
first, last and always, that before you can remember, or recollect, you must
first perceive; and that perception is possible only through
attention, and responds in degree to the latter. Therefore, it has truly been
said that: "The great Art of Memory is Attention."
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