Nuggets of the New Thought: Several Things That Have Helped People

by William Walker Atkinson

In the morning the boys came to the pit, shot the bear and lifted Jerry out and carried him home. His tail was several inches shorter, and one ear was missing, and his body was scarred and scratched like the face of a Heidelberg student, but away down in his heart he felt good—and he showed it. The farmer, feeling proud of the animal, carefully nursed him until he was able to move around the house, and then allowed him to go out of doors. As soon as he appeared the other dogs made a rush for him, but something in his look caused them to keep at a safe distance, and they contented themselves with barking at him and keeping out of reach. He did not seem anxious to fight, but he had that look of confidence in his eyes that kept them where they belonged. He had ceased to fear. His tail no longer drooped between his legs, but was held aloft as is the tail of every self-respecting dog. And somehow, that tail did not have the attracting power for tin cans that had formerly marked it. The boys recognized that Jerry had advanced in the scale, and there was something about him that they liked and respected.

About ten days after the dog got well, the farmer took a trip to town, and Jerry accompanied him, trotting along in an unconcerned manner, alongside, behind, or any other place that suited him. As the first farmhouse was reached the dogs came rushing down to have some fun with our friend. They pitched into him as of yore. Something happened. The pack ran yelping back to the house for surgical attention—and Jerry trotted on just the same. This scene was repeated at every farm along the road, Jerry repeating the object lesson each time, finishing up his task by rolling into the dust the big bull terrier in front of the postoffice, who, heretofore, had been the terror of the town. The homeward trip was a triumphal progress for the dog, and all his old foes vied with each other in tail-wagging and other demonstrations designed to let Jerry know that they were proud to be his friends. But he paid little attention to them—he had developed into a canine philosopher. After that he led a happy life. He was not seeking fight, but no boy or dog seemed to seek fight with him. He had cast out Fearthought. He feared nothing that walked on legs. HE HAD MET BEAR.

Now, some of my critics will call the attention of their readers to the fact that I am advising fight. Not so, good friends. I am using this dog story as an illustration, and am trying to show you how the Law will sometimes force a man into tight quarters in order to bring out his courage and self-confidence. It knows the man "has it in him," and it proceeds to use vigorous methods to bring it out into action providing, always, that the man has not developed it before. When a man has been placed in a position where he faces the worst, and is compelled to grapple with the bear, he finds that he has reserve force within him of which he never dreamt before, and he puts forth all his energy to save himself. He finds that when he boldly faces the difficulty the difficulty seems as much afraid of him as he had been of it. He gains more confidence, until at last he beats off the foe, and rests secure in his own strength. He finds that to the man who has abolished Fear and who can smilingly face any situation, Fate is very respectful and obliging, although to the man who fears it is a tormentor. In proportion to a man's fear will be his troubles. When he reaches the position when he can laugh in the face of Fortune, he will find her ceasing her coquetries and falling desperately in love with him.

And after the man has met the great difficulty—fought the mighty fight—he finds that he has ceased to fear the little troubles and trials of life—he feels his strength—he knows his source of power. He holds his head erect and breathes in the pure air of heaven, and feels the warm blood tingling through his veins. He has found himself. HE HAS MET BEAR.

THE UNSEEN HAND.

The consciousness of the hand—When it first was felt—Always there—Now as the hand of a father—Now as that of a mother—A lover—A brother—Always guiding—Always leading—A mystery—Some day we will know the owner of the hand.

I have felt the Unseen Hand—have been guided by it—have felt the kind but steady urge in the direction which it knew to be best, though my Intellect failed to see the beauty of the road toward which the Hand was directing me. For a time I rebelled against the impertinent interference of that which seemed to be a thing apart from me—a meddler—an unasked for helper. I had emerged from the dependent state—the state in which I thought it necessary to lean upon others. I gloried in my independence—my freedom—my ability to stand alone. Finding that it was good to stand alone—reveling in the joy of my new found freedom—rejoicing in the fact that the I AM within me was a reality—feeling within me the ecstasy that comes from the recognition of the reality of Individuality—I resented any interference from outside. But the pressure of the hand was still here—it would take my unwilling fingers within its own and lead me on—and lead me on.

Finding that I could not get rid of this unseen helper—realizing that it was intent upon guiding me in spite of my repeated assertions that I was able to take care of myself—that I was big enough to walk alone—I began to study the Something that was so determined to take an active part in the affairs of my life—I started in to become acquainted with it.

I found that it had always been with me more or less, but that I had not before recognized its presence. So long as I felt that I was not able to stand erect upon my feet—so long as I feared—so long as I failed to recognize the I AM—I was scarcely aware of this invisible helper. But when I began to realize what I was—what was my place in the Universal order of things—what were my possibilities—my future—the presence of this unseen hand began to be manifest. When I at length threw off the last fetter that had bound me—when I threw back my shoulders and drew my first free breath—when I shouted aloud with joy at my freedom and strength—when I realized the power that was within me and at my command—when I started out to accomplish that which my awakened mind told me was possible of attainment—when I started to do these things all by myself—then I felt for the first time the firm clasp of the unseen hand.

Now gently guiding—now leading—now kindly restraining—now giving a gentle urge toward people, things and conditions—now drawing me back from the edge of a precipice—now directing toward a better path—now giving me a gentle, firm pressure to reassure me of its presence when I doubted—now allowing me to rest my weight upon it when I felt tired—always there.