The Black Sheep’s secret, which in this Version is called the Method, is divided naturally into two parts. They may be named respectively the Open Secret and the Hidden Secret, and we shall take them up seriatim.
But first let us see why this chapter is called: The Boat. That is just because the secret does consist in a method, that is, in a certain described mode of procedure or in a rigorously defined succession of steps which are to be taken one by one, as strictly directed. With certain exceptions no further step is to be taken until its predecessor has been completed; and here the reader should refer back to the earlier illustration of the chemistry student whose test tube exploded in his hands with disastrous results because he had failed to learn, as instructed, the definitive properties of hydrogen.
Indeed there is much more to be said on this subject, and it must be said, and heard, with the utmost seriousness. We do not deal anywhere in mere intellectual speculation, a relatively harmless form of phantasy, but especially we do not deal with it in this chapter. What is to be formulated here is a method of action, it is something to do; and if it be done correctly, there shall surely be objective results. It is no more possible to engage actively in this Method and escape those results than it is possible, no matter how incredulously it may be done, to drink a quart of brandy in ten minutes and remain unaffected by the draught. Thus there are bound to be real effects if this work is prosecuted correctly; and if what is done in this discipline be done incorrectly, very disastrous effects indeed can be guaranteed.
For that reason such work as is to be described, is only done, and can only be done, safely under the immediate supervision of another person, one moreover who is fully competent and qualified and has proven it, to hold so responsible a position vis a vis others who must be for some time confused and helpless in the face of these surely eventuating results.
This is by no means either metaphor or hyperbole; it is a warning as serious as the writer can make it. As to the Open Secret, there is no harm in practicing that part of the Method and much recompense can be gained from it, if the task be engaged in properly.
But as to the kind of activity to follow the disclosure of the Hidden Secret, it must not be prosecuted alone or with a group of other uninformed persons, either. Any who may fail to follow this recommendation, do so at their own peril. It is not merely a recommendation; it is a warning and a prohibition.
This again is why the chapter is called the Boat. It involves not only something to do but something which, if done, also will take you somewhere. It is not like the credulities of Christian Science, in the midst of which one will die as quickly of cancer or of a bullet wound as if one had never heard of those credulities. It is not like psychoanalytic phantasies, accepting which one simply substitutes new malfunctions and misunderstandings for old ones. The Method consists in something novel, unsuspected and very different from any of the reactivities of semi-conscious men and it will inevitably produce a view, even of one’s surroundings, most unaccustomed to all of us. Thus, if we use the analogue of the Map for a formulation of unglimpsed realities, we may likewise describe as the Boat that strict method of procedure which will enable us to approach those realities personally, to view them directly and to make our own confirmation of them for ourselves.
But having had a really personal (not merely an intellectual) view of them, there can be no turning back. Having once in fact constated even a few realities, it will be literally impossible to rejoin the herd of blank-faced sheep and immerse oneself in their dream-life as before. There comes a time when the inquirer is no longer only an inquirer;
no matter what terms he uses, he has become an actual postulant; he has abandoned one chair, he has not as yet reached another, he dangles in the void between them. That situation is the worst of all, it is even more hopeless than our semi-conscious sleep. And so, even with the possibility of correct instruction and competent supervision, one must be very sure of the seriousness of his interest and purpose before taking so irreversible a step.
2.
In one way this Method resembles that of Science, for its basis is observation, hypothesis, experiment and conclusion. In another way it is dissimilar, for it does not involve the scientific error, the fallacy of affirming the consequent. This will be seen more clearly when the complete chapter has been read.
Now the Open Secret is called open because it can be discovered by perfectly ordinary means and in fact a great many people are acquainted with it, at least verbally. We are told that over the main gate of the Pythagorean Institute at Cretona were carved the words, Gnothe Seauton—Know Thyself. The degree of such knowledge that can be acquired by ordinary, though careful, means constitutes the Open Secret. There are
difficulties in this, to be sure, but there are none which may not be overcome by a usual amount of tenacity, of intelligence and of courage.
The first of the difficulties is a purely mental one; it is no more than the delusion that we already do know ourselves. Ask any ordinary man whether he knows Mr. So-and-so (mentioning his own name when perhaps being in ignorance of it) and he will tell you, with a sly or cunning smile, that he knows Mr. So-and-so very well indeed; if you press the point, he will conclude with the triumphant statement: “Why, you see I am So-and-so, naturally I know all about him, I know him better than anyone else possibly could.”
No long reflection is required in order to appreciate the absurdity of the assertion.
The smallest investigation discloses that his friends and acquaintances hold very different views about Mr. So-and-so than he does himself; and that the opinions of the former are the more likely to be correct. When confronted with a phonograph record of his voice or a moving picture of his actions, he is astonished and bewildered; indeed for some moments he is quite unable to recognize that it is his own voice speaking, his own figure moving across the screen. He possesses a physical, an emotional and an intellectual image of himself, all of which are very far from the facts. It is this image with which he has that real acquaintance underlying his confident assertion but the image is merely subjective and it is false in almost every respect. Of what he is really like, of the picture he presents even to those who are genuinely fond of him, he knows practically nothing at all.
No tremendous sincerity is needed to assure any one of us that his own case is that just mentioned, although here, certainly, a moderate sense of humor will not come in amiss. For there is a high degree of amour propre in these images which makes it difficult for us to see them for what they are; always there is much flattery in them and they are a continual product of the confusion between what we would like to be, even what we semi-consciously aspire to be, and what in fact we are. To admit these discrepancies to ourselves is a painful business, indeed just to suspect them sincerely is bad enough. Yet otherwise we are surely the Pauper whose denial of his poverty must with certainty preclude any possibility of future wealth. To destroy a delusion may be very unpleasant, and especially in the case of this one, but to hug it to oneself with a desperate grasp is true abnormality.
The first step toward knowing oneself is the realized admission that one does not.
The key to this whole problem is sane objectivity. The possibility of knowing oneself can arise only when a man is prepared to investigate his own attributes and characteristics, and his own behavior, as he would inquire into those of a stranger.
Impartiality and objectivity. The subtlety of this undertaking and its difficulty cannot be overstated; at every turn he will, as it were deliberately, misinterpret what he sees and the constant falsity of his ingrained, subjective image of himself will distort what is plainly in front of his eyes. To see what can easily be seen, is not so hard; but the way in which it is seen, how it is seen, that is the secret. The very first step in this Method is to look upon oneself as upon a stranger, literally, for a stranger to oneself is what one truly is. A scientist in a laboratory investigating some hitherto unknown creature is not afraid of what he may find, his motive is a controlled curiosity nor has he any axe to grind in favor of or opposed to some subjective judgment regarding that creature’s graces. He wants to find out, he looks in order to discover what is. Objectivity, objectivity, objectivity. An objectivity whose demands shall become much greater later.
The second step is to organize the work. Haphazard attempts might turn out
fortunately by chance but we shall far more quickly and accurately come to valid conclusions if a definite course is followed and a careful organization of our efforts is adopted to begin with. For this of course is work, to be undertaken professionally; simply hearing the instructions that are given, and then dreaming about them, will accomplish nothing. What is to be done, must be done and no one else can do it for you. No one else can do it for you. Remember that always. If others take this Boat but you do not, then others can sail somewhere with it but you cannot; also you must propel it. The Boat is given you but only you can take yourself to your destination in it. And although these beginning efforts are slight indeed compared to what shall be required later, yet they are difficult enough at the time one first encounters them. So why should one take the trouble to learn about oneself, anyhow?
But you have to live with yourself, don’t you? Divorce of such kind as this is not possible; day after day, month after month, year after year you must live with yourself until you die. Perhaps it would be as well to know something about this stranger you live with, this Mr. Smith (let us say) who places you in such unexpected situations, even occasionally in such unprofitable predicaments. Why do you not accomplish what you secretly wish, what you really seem to strive for? Is it always some outside chance or some outside injustice that hinders you, or may it perhaps be that fellow, Smith, who has something to do with it, too? How can you use Smith to achieve what you want? That is the question.
And certainly no answer to it is practicable until you know something definitely and objectively about Smith. Self-knowledge will be painful, your subjective image of yourself will omit no stratagem to deceive you and it will not die meekly; but without self-knowledge you can never be anything at all.
To get the feel of this thing let us have a practice run. Take someone you know well, but certainly not someone you love nor certainly not someone you hate. Just someone of whom you really do know quite a bit. Now come to some considered conclusions about him, impartially objective conclusions; describe him as if you were furnishing a report upon him for an identification to be made by an F.B.I. agent who had never seen him.
Write down his physical characteristics from memory, then consider his type, his customary behavior, his personal idiosyncrasies. Check these the next time you see him:
Are his eyes really hazel, or would you now call them blue? Is that habit of his of scratching his ear really a habit by which the agent may recognize him or have you given it prominence only because it annoys you? When you have the description to such shape that you honestly believe it would serve as an identification, try it on someone else who knows him; see if it works and if that second person can put the correct name upon the description you have furnished. If you succeed in this, you have done well.
Now turn upon yourself in the same way. We will suppose your name is Smith;
now let us see how recognizably you can describe Smith, as formerly you were describing Jones. Do not get lost in speculations as to who “you” are and what “your” connection with Smith may be. This is perfectly straightforward, perfectly rational, perfectly practical; you are simply that which is considering Smith as anyone else might consider him, who is taking the trouble to come to confirmable conclusions and judgments concerning Smith and who is furnishing a written identification of him. It is important that you write it down, for that will, partially, prevent mere daydreaming.
At once you will comprehend that you have at your disposal a far larger number of
data concerning Smith than you had in regard to Jones; but do not permit this fact to sway you toward omitting the obvious. First write down an external physical description of Smith. Check it; you can certainly do that, and don’t be too sure you can afford not to.
Invent some pretext and persuade a friend to take some moving pictures of you which you can observe at your leisure and for a reasonable time; perhaps he will consider you a vain fellow but you won’t feel that way when you regard the picture. Meantime you will be learning what you really do look like. Now continue with all the items you have noticed in the case of Jones, putting down their counterparts for Smith.
Let us organize this attempt more professionally and let us make the inquiry as specific as possible. Here is a list of eight questions; the answers to them should not be couched in terms of generalities, instead the answers should be as exact as it is possible to make them:
1. What do I (Smith) like? What do I dislike?
a) ordinary food f) people b) clothes g) amusements c) colors h) company d) occupations i) etc.
e) situations
2. What do I look forward to? (I.e., what remains in life for me, just within the range of possibility?)
3. What do I fear most from the future?
4. What would I like to be? To know? To do? (To be: what type would I like to incarnate? To know: what field if only one choice but within that field the possibility of complete knowledge? To do: what primary occupation if I were free to choose seriously?)
5. What have been my happiest and my unhappiest moments?
6. What are my own personality characteristics? Which do I consider weak points? Which do I consider strong points?
7. What things about Smith do I like? What dislike?
a) physical b) emotional c) mental
8. Why do I fear to die?
Do not daydream about the answers. Write them down; and take the trouble to do so accurately. Under “food,” for example, do not assume that you like caviar unless you really do; under “situations” do not suppose that you either like or dislike military
formality unless you have had sufficient experience of it to be able to form a real judgment about it. Do not guess.
It will be seen that to consider even so short a list as these eight questions properly and seriously must take some time and involve some effort. However, it is scarcely a beginning. Previously we have discussed the functional human types, practical, emotional, intellectual, and it is now necessary that one determine one’s own type among these categories. Each has two aspects, the positive and the negative, as follows:
practical, positive – active
negative – inactive or lazy emotional, positive – optimistic
negative – pessimistic
intellectual, positive – constructive, building up negative – destructive, tearing down.
It makes no difference which aspect of which type refers to you and you must not let your prejudices in favor of one or another influence your judgment; none are “good”, none are
“bad”, it is required only that you discover for yourself which is applicable. And here we must remember that it is not one hour or one day that counts; the criterion is what type you impersonate ordinarily, usually or most of the time, for all of us fall into all six of the above categories some of the time.
This brings us naturally to the Life Review. It also is to be written out and that will take some time. (You are supposed to be doing this seriously.) All of your life is there in your memory; what is required, is to recall it and much of it can be recalled. The greatest difficulty will be with the early years but even there assistance can usually be obtained, from old friends, from an uncle or an aunt, from one’s parents. This should be a miniature autobiography, but done without phantasy, done impartially as if it were not an autobiography but a biography of someone else. And do it specifically, dividing the life into the periods into which it naturally falls; infancy, childhood, adolescence, young maturity, middle maturity, and so on. At the end you should have a history of Smith that really tells us and you something about him, what kind of person he is in fact, what sort of thing history has shown that he can do well, what sort of thing ill. A real picture should be beginning to emerge.
All this may be called the first step, the gathering of observable data upon which an hypothesis can be built. The hypothesis or judgment is the second step and then arises the possibility of experimental confirmation or refutation. In the present case this consists in checking the supposed functional type with others and in checking the biographical details insofar as they can possibly be checked; do not assume, for instance, that you did well or poorly at school, get out the old reports if available and, if not, then try to check your
All this may be called the first step, the gathering of observable data upon which an hypothesis can be built. The hypothesis or judgment is the second step and then arises the possibility of experimental confirmation or refutation. In the present case this consists in checking the supposed functional type with others and in checking the biographical details insofar as they can possibly be checked; do not assume, for instance, that you did well or poorly at school, get out the old reports if available and, if not, then try to check your