Once, as a young man, I undertook to draw up a catalogue of the acknowledged "goods" of life.  I set down my inventory of earthly desirables:  health, love, talent, power, riches and fame.  Then I proudly showed it to a wise elder.

"An excellent list," said my old friend, "and set down in a reasonable order.  But you have omitted the one important ingredient, lacking which your list becomes an intolerable burden."

He crossed out my entire schedule.  Then he wrote down three syllables:  peace of mind.

"This is the gift that God reserves for his special protégés," he said.

"Talent and health he gives to many.  Wealth is commonplace, fame not rare.  But peace of mind he bestows charily.

"This is no private opinion of mine," he explained.  "I am merely paraphrasing the Psalmists, Marcus Aurelius, Lao-Tse.  'O God, Lord of the universe,' say these wise ones, 'heap worldly gifts at the feet of foolish people.  Give me the gift of the untroubled mind.'"

I found that difficult to accept; but now, after a quarter of a century of personal experience and professional observation, I have come to understand that peace of mind is the true goal of the considered life.  I know now that the sum of all other possessions does not necessarily add up to peace of mind; on the other hand, I have seen this inner tranquility flourish without the material supports of property or even the buttress of physical health.  Peace of mind can transform a cottage into a spacious manor hall; the want of it can make a regal residence an imprisoning shell.

Where then shall we look for it?  The key to the problem is to be found in Matthew Arnold's lines:

"We would have inward peace
But will not look within. . ."

But will not look within!  Here, in a single phrase, our willfulness is bared.

It is a striking irony that, while religious teaching emphasizes people's obligations to others, it says little about their obligations to themselves.  One of the great discoveries of modern psychology is that our attitudes towards ourselves are even more complicated than our attitudes towards others.  The great commandment of religion, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," might now be better interpreted to mean, "Thou shalt love thyself properly, and then thou wilt love thy neighbor."

Some will argue that this is a dangerous doctrine.  "Human beings love themselves too much already," they will say.  "The true goal of life is the rejection of self in the service of others."  There are errors in this estimate of human nature.  The evidence points in quite the opposite direction.  We often treat ourselves more rigidly, more vengefully, than we do others.  Suicide and more subtle forms of self-degradation such as alcoholism, drug addiction, and promiscuity are extreme proofs of this.  But all the streets of the world are teeming with everyday men and women who mutilate themselves spiritually by self-criticism; who go through life committing partial suicide--destroying their own talents, energies, creative qualities.

To one who goes through life hypnotized by thoughts of inferiority, I would say, "In actuality, you are quite strong and wise and successful.  You have done rather well in making a tolerable human existence out of the raw materials at your disposal.  There are those who love and honor you for what you really are.  Take off your dark-colored glasses, assume your place as an equal in the adult world, and realize that your strength is adequate to meet the problems of that world."

Another road to proper self-regard is the acceptance of ourselves for what we are--a combination of strengths and weaknesses.  The great thing is that as long as we live we have the privilege of growing.  We can learn new skills, engage in new kinds of work, devote ourselves to new causes, make new friends.  Accepting, then, the truth that we are capable in some directions and limited in others, that genius is rare, that mediocrity is the portion of most of us, let us remember also that we can and must change ourselves.

Every person who wishes to attain peace of mind must learn the art of renouncing many things in order to possess other things more fully.

The philosopher Santayana pointed out that the great difficulty in life does not so much arise in the choice between good and evil as in the choice between good and good.  In early life, however, we do not realize that one desire can be quite inconsistent with another.  The young boy may vacillate between a dozen different plans for the future, but the mature person will have to renounce many careers in order to fulfill one.  The same truth exists in the realm of emotions.  It is fitting for the adolescent to transfer his or her love interest from one object of affection to another, but it is tragic when the grown-up still plays the role of the adolescent.  He or she has not yet learned that human growth means the closing of many doors before one great door can be opened--the door of mature love and of adult achievement.

The first fundamental truth about our individual lives is the indispensability of love to every human being.  By "love" I mean relatedness to some treasured person or group, the feeling of belonging to a larger whole, of being of value to others.

Our interdependence with others is the most encompassing fact of human reality--our personalities are made by our contacts with others.  There is, therefore, a duty which falls upon all of us--to become free, loving, warm, cooperative, affirmative personalities.

To love one's neighbors is to achieve an inner tolerance for the uniqueness of others, to resist the temptation to private imperialism.  We must renounce undue possessiveness in relation to friends, children--yes, even our loves.  The world is full of private imperialists--the father who forces his artistic son into business, or the mother who rivets her daughter to her service by chains of pity, subtly refusing the daughter a life of her own.

When we insist that others conform to our ideas of what is proper, good, acceptable, we show that we are not certain of the rightness of our inner pattern.  Those who are sure of themselves are deeply willing to let others be themselves.  We display true love when we cease to demand that our loved ones become revised editions of ourselves. . . .

Both science and religion teach us that the obstacles to serenity are not external.  They lie within us.  If we acquire the art of proper self-love; if, aided by religion, we free ourselves from shadow fears, and learn honestly to face grief and transcend it; if we flee from immaturity and boldly shoulder adult responsibility; if we appraise and accept ourselves as we really are, how then can we fail to create a good life for ourselves?  For then inward peace will be ours.

One day when I was a boy, I was playing in an abandoned house in northwest Missouri.  I rested my feet on a window sill for a moment--and then jumped.  I had a ring on my left forefinger and the ring caught on a nailhead and tore off my finger.

I was terrified.  I was positive I was going to die.  But after the hand healed, I never worried about it.  Now, I seldom think about the fact that I have only three fingers and a thumb on my left hand.

A few years ago, I met a man who was running a freight elevator in a New York office building.  I noticed that his left hand had been cut off at the wrist.  I asked him if that loss bothered him.  He said, "Oh, no.  Only when I try to thread a needle."

It is astonishing how quickly we can accept almost any situation--if we have to--and adjust ourselves to it.  George V of England had these words framed on the wall of his library:  "Teach me neither to cry for the moon nor over spilt milk."  The same thought is expressed by Schopenhauer:  "A good supply of resignation is of the first importance in providing for the journey of life."

Obviously, circumstances alone do not make us happy or unhappy.  Our feelings are determined by the way we react to them.  We can all endure disaster and triumph over it--if we have to.  We may not think we can, but we have inner resources that will see us through if we only make use of them.  We are stronger than we think.

The late Booth Tarkington had always believed that he could take anything that life could force upon him except one thing--blindness.  Then when he was along in his 60's, he began losing his sight.

When total darkness closed in, Tarkington said, "I found I could take the loss of my eyesight, just as one can take anything else.  If I lost all five of my sense, I know I could live on inside my mind.  For it is in the mind we see, and live."

Am I advocating that we simply bow down to all adversities?  Not by a long shot!  As long as there is a chance that we can save a situation, let's fight!  But when common sense tells us that we are up against something that cannot be otherwise, then, in the name of our sanity, let's not pine for what is not.

Sarah Bernhardt was an illustrious example of a woman who knew how to cooperate with the inevitable.  After half a century as the reigning queen of the theater on four continents, at 71 she found herself broke in Paris.  Worse than that, while crossing the Atlantic, she had fallen during a storm and injured her leg so severely that phlebitis developed.  The pain became so intense that the doctor finally concluded that the leg must be amputated, but he was almost afraid to tell the stormy, tempestuous Sarah what had to be done for fear the news would set off an explosion of hysteria.  But he was wrong.  Sarah looked at him a moment, and said quietly, "If it has to be, it has to be."

No one has enough emotion and vigor to fight the inevitable and, at the same time, enough left over to create a new life.  Choose one or the other.  You can either bend with the inevitable storms of life--or you can resist them and break!

Why do you think your automobile tires stand up on the road and take so much punishment?  At first, manufacturers tried to make a tire that would resist the shocks of the road.  It was soon cut to ribbons.  Then they made a tire that would absorb the shocks of the road.  That tire could "take it."  You and I will last longer, and enjoy smoother riding, if we learn to do the same.

Do What You Want--and Live Longer (1950)
Thurman B. Rice

"No matter how I coax and threaten," a worried mother told me, "my Tommy simply will not eat his spinach.  Whatever am I going to do?"

I suggested that she give him strawberries and cream instead.  "You're not serious!" she gasped.  I told her I never was more serious.  Strawberries and cream happen to be packed with vitamins and minerals, and Tommy liked strawberries and cream while he detested spinach.

I am a strong believer in doing what you like.  The very fact that you enjoy a thing is reason enough for doing it.  This does not mean that I favor selfish indulgence or unbridled dissipation.  It does mean that I'm in favor of getting more fun out of life.

Down through the centuries people have searched for some formula that would prolong the span of human existence--an elixir to endow men and women with eternal youth.  The famous Pasteur Institute of Paris recently announced  that it, too, is working on a "youth serum."  The project is still in an experimental stage; but even if it were to succeed, how better off would humanity be?  What point is there in extending the span of one's existence if it simply means increasing the number of years in which to be old and futile?

Wouldn't it be more to the point to study ways and means of packing more living into the span of life already allotted to us?

A doctor friend has told me of a patient whom he inherited from his father.  The patient is nearing 90 and apparently is in the best of health; yet my friend has never known him to draw an uncomplaining breath, or to be other than a burden to himself and a pain in the neck to those around him.  For all his years, such a man can scarcely be said to have "lived" at all.

You're not truly living unless you get a kick out of life; you're simply existing.  Yet I know plenty of people who actually go out of their way to deny themselves fun and enjoyment.

One man never does anything because it would be pleasant or enjoyable but always because it is his bounden obligation.  He is one of those fellows of whom it is aptly said that they were "born old."  His oppressive sense of duty makes him a bore to his acquaintances and a trial to his family.  An overly conscientious woman considers it a sin to laugh since her husband died.  Hugging her grief, she denies not only herself but her children the right to a happy, normal existence.

Many people make themselves miserable by adhering to a disagreeable "health" regimen under the mistaken notion that such practices are somehow good for them.  They persist in sleeping beside open windows in cold weather though nose and throat specialists condemn the practice.  Millions of American males start the day in fear and trembling with a cold shower that shocks the nervous system, leaves them chilled and under par and causes them to be drowsy by midmorning.  They do it on the theory that it "hardens" them, whereas in a majority of cases it actually makes them more susceptible to colds.

One of my friends knocks himself out every morning doing setting-up exercises to keep himself fit.  U.S. Army tests prove that recruits subjected to intensive calisthenics probably do not possess more physical endurance under combat conditions than soldiers who have had little or no "toughening."

I know a woman who feeds her family quantities of raw carrots, cracked wheat and brown sugar.  Her meals are scientifically apportioned blends of proteins, carbohydrates, fats, minerals, vitamins and roughage; nevertheless, they are so unappetizing that her family fails to get much benefit.

Then there are people who ruin their lives by being overparticular about their physical surroundings.  A woman in our town is a perfectionist and a fuss-budget.  She makes both her family and visitors uncomfortable by her prissy insistence on having everything arranged just so--from chairs and ash trays in the living room to umbrellas and overshoes in the coat closet.  Basically a well-intentioned wife and mother, this woman would be all right if only she could learn to relax and take things as they come.

And I know couples who are so determinedly conventional that they don't get fun even out of their amusements.  They play bridge or golf not because they enjoy it but because it's "the thing to do."

Then there are those who have fallen into the habit of putting off the things that make for real living.  One woman is forever buying a new suit or gown.  But she rarely wears any of her smart clothes.  She is saving them for some indefinite future occasion that never seems to arrive.  Another young woman, a schoolteacher, went without her summer vacations for years in order to take more and more college courses.  Last summer, having at last received her doctorate, she visited a summer resort for the first time.  But she was so miserable there that she cut short her stay.  It was too late--she had forgotten how to play.  She isn't as good a teacher with a degree and a grouch as she was with no degree and a cheery outlook on life.

It's possible to wreck your life by trying to play things too safe.  No one can be happy if we're excessively anxious about our homes, our bank rolls, our jobs or our health.  When you get right down to it, all living involves risk.  The people who try always to play it safe not infrequently find themselves more vulnerable to trouble than those who are willing to take some chances.

Many who entertain the notion that because a thing is unpleasant it must be good for them also believe that whatever is pleasant is bad.  This is equally absurd.  The world is full of good and pleasant things put there for our enjoyment:  sun and rain and food and sleep and love and play and laughter.  If we turn our backs on them, are we not guilty of ingratitude to their Creator?

Living, as I see it, is an art, the most important art there is.  Yet few people learn to practice it successfully.  Mrs. Anne Mary ("Grandma") Moses probably offers the perfect example of the fun you can enjoy once you relax and start doing what you really want to do.  Grandma Moses always wanted to paint, but she never got around to it till she was 78.  Even in her 90's, unflustered by fame and wealth, she still painted for the sheer joy of it.

Nobody needs to go on living in the squirrel cage of a dull existence.  Anybody who really wants to can emancipate him or herself and start enjoying life.  The owner of a filling station far off the usual tourist routes in the Rocky Mountains was a man of obvious education and refinement.  It eventually came out that he had been for a time a partner in a Manhattan law firm; but he hated the work and hated the life, in spite of all the money he was making.  "So I quit and came out here," he says.  "It may not be for everybody, but this part of the world suits me.  My ulcers have disappeared; my nerves are steady again.  I'm my own boss.  Any time I feel like it I go fishing for a week.  I don't make much money, but I'm having more fun than I ever had in my life."

The really successful people are those who get paid for doing the things they like to do.  They'll not only be happier but the chances are they'll live longer, too.  In the Book of Proverbs it is written:  "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine."  There's no other medicine to be compared with it.

1. Falling in love.
2. Laughing so hard your face hurts.
3. A hot shower.
4. No lines at the supermarket.
5. A special glance.
6. Getting mail.
7. Taking a drive on a pretty road.
8. Hearing your favorite song on the radio.
9. Lying in bed listening to the rain outside.
10. Hot towels fresh out of the dryer.
11. Chocolate milkshake (or vanilla or strawberry).
12. A bubble bath.
13. Giggling.
14. A good conversation.
15. The beach.
16. Finding a 20-dollar bill in your coat from last winter.
17. Laughing at yourself.
18. Looking into their eyes and knowing they Love you.
19. Midnight phone calls that last for hours.
20. Running through sprinklers.
21. Laughing for absolutely no reason at all.
22. Having someone tell you that you're beautiful.
23. Laughing at an inside joke with FRIENDS.
24. Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you.
25. Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep.
26. Your first kiss (either the very first or with a new partner).
27. Making new friends or spending time with old ones.
28. Playing with a new puppy.
29. Having someone play with your hair.
30. Sweet dreams.
31. Hot chocolate.
32. Road trips with friends.
33. Swinging on swings.
34. Making eye contact with a cute stranger.
35. Making chocolate chip cookies.
36. Having your friends send you homemade cookies.
37. Holding hands with someone you care about.
38. Running into an old friend and realizing that some things (good or bad) never change.
39. Watching the expression on someone's face as they open a much-desired present from you.
40. Watching the sunrise.
41. Getting out of bed every morning and being grateful for another beautiful day.
42. Knowing that somebody misses you.
43. Getting a hug from someone you care about deeply.
44. Knowing you've done the right thing, no matter what other people think.