THOUGHT VIBRATION/PART 15

 

CHAPTER 15.

CLAIMING YOUR OWN

IN  A  recent  conversation,  I  was  telling a  woman  to pluck  up  courage and to reach out  for a  certain  good  thing for  which she had  been  longing for many years,  and  which,  at  last,  appeared  to be  in  sight.  I  told  her  that  it looked  as  if  her  desire was  about  to  be  gratified—that  the  Law  of Attraction was bringing it to her. She lacked faith, and kept on  repeating, "Oh!  it's  too good  to be true—it's  too  good  for  me!"  She  had  not  emerged from  the worm-of-the-dust  stage,  and  although  she was in sight of the Promised  Land  she refused  to enter  it  because it  "was  too  good for her."  I think  I  succeeded  in  putting  sufficient  "ginger"  into her to enable her to claim her own,  for  the last  reports  indicate  that  she is  taking possession.

But  that  is  not  what  I  wish  to tell you.  I  want  to  call your  attention  to the fact  that  nothing is  too good  for  YOU—no matter how  great  the  thing may be—no matter how undeserving you  may  seem  to be.  You  are entitled  to the best  there is,  for  it  is  your  direct  inheritance.  So don't  be afraid  to  ask— demand—and take. The good  things  of  the world  are  not the portion  of  any favored  sons.  They  belong to  all,  but  they come only to those who are wise enough to recognize that the good things are  theirs by right, and who are sufficiently courageous  to reach out  for  them.  Many good  things  are lost  for  want  of  the asking.  Many splendid  things  are lost to  you  because of  your  feeling that  you  are  unworthy of  them.  Many  great things  are lost  to you  because you  lack  the confidence and  courage  to demand  and take  possession  of  them.

"None but  the  brave deserves  the fair," says the old adage, and the rule is true  in  all  lines  of  human  effort.  If  you  keep  on  repeating  that  you  are unworthy  of  the good  thing—that  it  is  too good  for  you—the Law  will be apt  to  take  you  at  your word  and  believe  what you  say.  That's  a peculiar thing about  the Law—it  believes what  you  say—it  takes  you  in earnest. So beware what you say to it, for it will be apt  to  give  credence.  Say to it that you are worthy of the best  there is,  and  that  there is  nothing too good  for you,  and  you  will  be  likely  to  have  the  Law take  you  in earnest,  and  say, "I  guess  he is  right;  I'm  going  to give him  the whole bakeshop if he wants it— he knows his rights,  and  what's  the use of  trying to deny it  to him?" But  if  you  say,  "Oh,  it's  too good  for  me!"  the  Law will  probably  say, "Well,  I wouldn't  wonder  but  what  that  is  so.  Surely he ought  to know, and  it  isn't  for  me to contradict  him."  And  so it  goes.

Why should  anything be  too good  for  you?  Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  just what  you  are?  You are a manifestation of the Whole Thing,  and  have a perfect  right to  all  there  is.  Or,  if you  prefer  it  this way,  you  are  a  child of the Infinite, and are heir to it all.  You  are  telling the truth in  either statement,  or  both.  At  any  rate,  no matter for  what  you  ask,  you  are merely  demanding  your  own.  And  the  more in  earnest  you  are about demanding it—the more confident  you  are of  receiving it—the  more  will you  use in  reaching out  for  it—the surer  you  will be to obtain  it.

Strong desire—confident  expectation—courage  in  action—these things bring to you your  own.  But  before you  put  these  forces into  effect,  you must  awaken  to a  realization  that  you  are  merely asking for  your  own, and  not  for  something to which you  have no right  or  claim.  So long as there exists  in  your mind  the last  sneaking bit  of  doubt  as  to your right  to the things you want, you will be setting up  a resistance  to  the operation of the  Law.  You  may demand as vigorously as you  please,  but  you  will lack  the courage  to act,  if  you  have a lingering  doubt  of  your  right  to  the thing you  want.  If  you  persist  in  regarding the desired  thing  as  if  it belonged to another,  instead  of  to yourself,  you  will be placing yourself  in the position  of  the covetous  or  envious  man,  or  even  in  the position  of  a tempted  thief.  In  such a  case your  mind  will  revolt  at  proceeding with  the work,  for  it  instinctively  will  recoil  from  the  idea  of taking  what  is  not your  own—the mind  is  honest.  But  when  you  realize  that  the  best  the Universe  holds  belongs  to you  as  a  Divine Heir,  and  that  there is enough for all without your robbing  anyone else;  then  the  friction is removed, and  the  barrier broken  down,  and  the  Law  proceeds  to do its  work.

I  do not  believe in  this  "humble"  business.  This  meek  and  lowly attitude does not appeal to me—there is  no sense in  it,  at  all.  The  idea  of  making a virtue  of such  things,  when  Man  is  the heir of the Universe, and is entitled to whatever he needs for  his  growth,  happiness  and  satisfaction! I  do not  mean  that  one should  assume a  blustering  and  domineering attitude  of  mind—that is also absurd, for true strength does not  so exhibit  itself.  The blusterer is  a  self-confessed weakling—he  blusters  to disguise  his weakness.  The  truly strong  man  is calm,  self-contained,  and carries  with him a consciousness of strength which renders unnecessary the  bluster  and  fuss of assumed  strength.  But get away  from  this hypnotism  of "humility"—this "meek and lowly" attitude of mind. Remember the horrible example of Uriah Heep, and beware of  imitating him.  Throw  back  your head,  and  look  the world  square in  the face. There's  nothing to  be afraid  of—the  world  is  apt to  be  as  much  afraid  of you,  as you  are  of it,  anyway.  Be  a  man,  or  woman,  and  not  a crawling thing.  And  this  applies  to your  mental  attitude,  as  well as  to your outward  demeanor.  Stop this crawling in your  mind.  See  yourself as standing  erect  and  facing  life  without  fear,  and you  will gradually grow into your  ideal.

There is  nothing that  is  too good  for  you—not  a thing.  The best  there is, is  not  beginning to  be good  enough for  you;  for  there are still better things  ahead. The  best  gift  that  the world  has  to offer  is  a  mere bauble compared  to the great  things  in  the Cosmos  that  await  your  coming of age.  So don't  be  afraid  to  reach out  for  these playthings  of  life—these baubles  of  this plane of consciousness. Reach out for them—grab a  whole fistful—play  with  them  until  you  are  tired;  that's  what  they  are  made  for, anyway.  They  are  made  for  our  express use—not to  look  at,  but  to  be played with,  if you  desire.  Help  yourself—there's  a  whole shopful  of these toys awaiting your desire,  demand  and  taking.  Don't  be  bashful!  Don't  let me hear any  more  of  this  silly  talk  about  things  being too  good for you. Pshaw! You  have been  like the Emperor's  little  son  thinking that the tin soldiers and toy drum were far  too good  for  him,  and  refusing to  reach out  for  them.  But  you  don't  find  this  trouble with children  as  a rule. They instinctively recognize that nothing is too good for  them.  They  want all that is in sight to play with,  and  they  seem  to feel that  the things  are theirs  by  right.  And  that  is  the condition  of  mind  that  we seekers  after the Divine Adventure must cultivate. Unless we become as little children we cannot  enter the Kingdom  of  Heaven.

The things we see around us  are  the playthings  of  the Kindergarten  of God, playthings  which we use in  our game-tasks.  Help  yourself to  them— ask  for  them  without  bashfulness—demand  as  many  as you  can make  use of—  they  are  yours.  And if you  don't  see  just  what  you  want,  ask  for  it— there's a  big  reserve  stock  on the  shelves,  and in the  closets.  Play,  play, play,  to your  heart's  content.  Learn  to  weave mats—to  build  houses  with the blocks—to stitch outlines  on  the squares—play the game through, and play  it  well.  And demand all  the  proper  materials for  the  play—don't be bashful—there's  enough to go round.

But-remember  this!  While  all this  be true,  the  best  things  are  still only game-things—toys,  blocks,  mats,  cubes,  and all the  rest.  Useful,  most useful for the learning of  the lessons—pleasant,  most pleasant with which  to play— and desirable,  most  desirable,  for  these  purposes.  Get  all the fun  and  profit  out  of  the  use of  things  that  is  possible.  Throw  yourself heartily into the game, and  play  it  out—it  is  Good.  But,  here's  the thing to remember—never  lose sight  of  the fact  that  these good  things  are  but playthings—part  of  the game—and you  must  be  perfectly  willing  to  lay them  aside when  the time  comes  to pass  into the next  class,  and  not cry and mourn  because  you  must  leave your  playthings  behind  you.  Do not allow yourself to  become  unduly  attached to  them—they are for  your use and  pleasure,  but  are not  a  part  of  you—not  essential  to your  happiness in  the next  stage.  Despise them  not  because of  their  lack  of  Reality—they are great  things  relatively,  and  you  may as  well  have all  the fun  out  of them  that  you  can—don't  be a  spiritual  prig,  standing  aside and  refusing to join  in  the game.  But  do not  tie yourself  to them—they  are good  to use and  play  with,  but  not  good  enough to use  you  and  to  make  you  a plaything.  Don't  let  the toys  turn  the  tables  on  you.

This  is  the  difference between  the Master  of  Circumstances  and  the  Slave of  Circumstances.  The Slave thinks  that  these playthings  are  real,  and that  he is  not  good  enough to have them.  He gets  only a few  toys,  because he  is afraid to  ask  for  more,  and he  misses most  of  the fun.  And  then, considering the toys  to be  real,  and  not  realizing that  there are plenty more where these came from,  he attaches  himself  to the  little  trinkets that  have  come  his  way,  and  allows himself to  be  made  a  slave  of them. He is  afraid  that  they  may  be  taken  away  from  him,  and  he  is  afraid  to toddle across  the floor  and  help  himself  to the others.  The Master  knows that  all  are his  for  the asking.  He demands  that which he needs from day to day, and does not worry about  overloading  himself;  for  he knows  that there are  "lots  more,"  and  that  he cannot  be cheated  out  of  them.  He plays,  and plays well,  and has a  good time  in  the  play—and he learns his Kindergarten lessons in the  playing.  But  he does  not  become too  much attached  to  his toys.  He  is willing to fling  away  the worn-out  one,  and reach out  for  a  new  one.  And  when  he is  called  into the next  room  for promotion,  he drops  on  the floor the worn-out toys of the day, and with glistening eyes and  confident  attitude  of  mind,  marches  into the next room—into the Great  Unknown—with a  smile on  his  face.  He is  not afraid,  for  he hears  the voice of  the Teacher,  and  knows  that  she is  there waiting for  him—in  that Great Next  Room.