t impossible to experience. And they all depend upon
that power of stilling Thought, that ability to pass unharmed and
undismayed through the grinning legions of the lower mind into the very
heart of Paradise.

The question inevitably arises, How can this power be obtained? And
there is only one answer--the same answer which has to be given for the
attainment of ANY power or faculty. There is no royal road. The only way
is (however imperfectly) to DO the thing in question, to practice it. If
you would learn to play cricket, the only way is to play cricket; if you
would be able to speak a language, the only way is to speak it. If you
would learn to swim, the only way is to practice swimming. Or would you
wish to be like the man who when his companions were bathing and bidding
him come and join them, said: "Yes, I am longing to join you, but I am
not going to be such a fool as to go into the water TILL I KNOW HOW TO
SWIM!"

There is nothing but practice. If you want to obtain that priceless
power of commanding Thought--of using it or dismissing it (for the
two things go together) at will--there is no way but practice. And
the practice consists in two exercises: (a) that of concentration--in
holding the thought steadily for a time on one subject, or point of a
subject; and (b) that of effacement--in effacing any given thought from
the mind, and determining NOT to entertain it for such and such a
time. Both these exercises are difficult. Failure in practicing them is
certain--and may even extend over years. But the power equally certainly
grows WITH practice. And ultimately there may come a time when the
learner is not only able to efface from his mind any given thought
(however importunate), but may even succeed in effacing, during short
periods, ALL thought of any kind. When this stage is reached, the
veil of illusion which surrounds all mortal things is pierced, and the
entrance to the Paradise of Rest (and of universal power and knowledge)
is found.

Of indirect or auxiliary methods of reaching this great conclusion,
there are more than one. I think of life in the open air, if not
absolutely necessary, at least most important. The gods--though
sometimes out of compassion they visit the interiors of houses--are not
fond of such places and the evil effluvium they find there, and avoid
them as much as they can. It is not merely a question of breathing
oxygen instead of carbonic acid. There is a presence and an influence