The woman of to-morrow

by Helen M. Winslow

In this way we may minister to the inner needs of the soul, develop love and patience and the helpful instinct which makes of women what God meant them to be: His messengers to humankind. Just as the observance of the Sabbath is a wise thing from a physiological point of view, so is self-communion and its breathing-spaces a blessing to the intellectual world.

Not that we should cease our activities utterly, or take time for morbid contemplation of our own peculiarities or tendencies. There is a great deal of work to be done, and work that seems to be meant for our own hands and no other. Only we must learn to discriminate between actual service and aimless work that accomplishes nothing, even for ourselves. And service should enrich the giver before all others, should it not?

Again, serenity is not idleness. The most effective workers are those who are never flurried and hurried, who do not lose their balance in the turmoil of every-day living, nor rush about in fussy excitement. We must be sure to do something—much, for others, and we shall find our days crowded full as they grow shorter by the almanac; but it is our own fault if we get flustered and worried, if we allow our activities to destroy our serenity of soul or hamper the inner life.

This atmosphere of poise in which the nicely adjusted balance of our powers may be maintained is a habit—a mode of life. It is often a matter of temperament, but it may be acquired and nobody needs it more than she who is born without it. Some are blessed by the fairy godmother with happier dispositions than others. Still there is no despair for any of us; if we have not the temperament which makes for happiness, it is our first business to acquire it. Why go through this world perpetually disgruntled when the world will concede so much to a smile?

Let us then develop this sort of spiritual capital as the main necessity of life. Let us not toil unprofitably nor become engulfed in activity for its own sake. Let us measure out for ourselves only just so much of play as we can do well without losing our balance or frittering ourselves away uselessly. It will take more self-denial for some of us than to go the other way. It is always easier drifting with the tide than resisting it—even though it be towards the whirlpool.

A woman with no atmosphere is one of the most uninteresting objects in the world. A woman should be an individual; more than that, she should possess a distinct individuality. She should suggest to those with whom she comes most in contact something bright and beautiful or soft and restful. How can she, if she be uneasy, restless and strenuous? Certain women come into a room or a house like an inspiration; they suggest an exhilarating breath of June air, or the great calmness of a starry night. Such women are worthy to be called God’s beneficences. They are like the beautiful rose tree, scenting the atmosphere with fragrance and making all the world aware of June and summer and all bright things. And unless we do sometimes “chant in thoughts and paint in words,” even though it be in our secret soul of souls, we can never hope to be numbered with such. We forget that a wise prophet once said there is a time to think, as well as a time to work and a time to sing and a time to dance. And we need to stop and think more than we need to do any of these other things.

Ruskin’s words should be emblazoned on a card and hung before the eyes of every restless woman. “And to get peace, if you do want it, make for yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts. Those are nests on the sea, indeed, but safe beyond all others. Do you know what fairy palaces you may build of beautiful thoughts, proof against all adversity? Bright fancies, satisfied memories, noble histories, faithful sayings, treasure houses of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot disturb, nor pain make gloomy, nor poverty take away from us; houses built without hands for our souls to live in.” Why not take this for our rule, and devote some little time every day, say a half hour at dusk or even at night after the house is still, to building ourselves nests of pleasant thoughts? Surely it would pay.

It rests with the individual woman whether she will be like a rose tree full of brightness and fragrance, a help and an inspiration; or whether she will waste herself in a mad endeavor to keep up with the pell-mell, hop, skip and jump of modern life. Shall we stop occasionally long enough to plant the seed germs that will blossom later into flower and fruit? Or shall we degenerate into mere replicas of other women who wear good clothes, do and say the conventional, commonplace thing, and are as uninteresting as a sunset without a flush of color?

No; let us give ourselves pause. Let us take stock of ourselves and see if we are making the most of our talents, “building for ourselves fairy palaces, proof against all adversity.” And let us not do it for ourselves alone, but that we may give others that “which care may not disturb nor pain take away.”

And let me whisper a way to keep in the attitude of serenity. Commit to memory some helpful verse and say it over to yourselves whenever you have time, or, more important even, whenever you get cross. If you cannot pin it to your memory, pin it to your mirror, or on your pin-cushion, if you are so old-fashioned as to use one.