I shall never forget the night， a few years ago， when MarionJ. Douglas was a student in one of my classes. （I have not used hisreal name. He requested me， for personal reasons， not to revealhis identity.） But here is his real story as he told it before one ofour adult-education classes. He told us how tragedy had struck athis home， not once， but twice. The first time he had lost his fiveyear-old daughter， a child he adored. He and his wife thoughtthey couldn’t endure that first loss； but， as he said： “Ten monthslater， God gave us another little girl—and she died in five days.”
This double bereavement was almost too much to bear. “Icouldn’t take it，” this father told us. “I couldn’t sleep， I couldn’teat， I couldn’t rest or relax. My nerves were utterly shaken and myconfidence gone.” At last he went to doctors； one recommendedsleeping pills and another recommended a trip. He tried both，but neither remedy helped. He said： “My body felt as if it wereencased in a vice， and the jaws of the vice were being drawntighter and tighter.” The tension of grief—if you have ever beenparalysed by sorrow， you know what he meant.
“But thank God， I had one child left—a four-year-old son. Hegave me the solution to my problem. One afternoon as I sat aroundfeeling sorry for myself， he asked： ‘daddy， will you build a boat forme？’ I was in no mood to build a boat； in fact， I was in no mood to doanything. But my son is a persistent little fellow！ I had to give in.
“Building that toy boat took about three hours. By the time itwas finished， I realised that those three hours spent building that boat were the first hours of mental relaxation and peace that Ihad had in months！ “That discovery jarred me out of my lethargyand caused me to do a bit of thinking-the first real thinking I haddone in months. I realised that it is difficult to worry while youare busy doing something that requires planning and thinking. Inmy case， building the boat had knocked worry out of the ring. SoI resolved to keep busy.
“The following night， I went from room to room in the house，compiling a list of jobs that ought to be done. Scores of itemsneeded to be repaired： bookcases， stair steps， storm windows，window-shades， knobs， locks， leaky taps. Astonishing as it seems，in the course of two weeks I had made a list of 242 items thatneeded attention.
“During the last two years I have completed most of them.
Besides， I have filled my life with stimulating activities. Twonights per week I attend adult-education classes in New York. Ihave gone in for civic activities in my home town and I am nowchairman of the school board. I attend scores of meetings. I helpcollect money for the Red Cross and other activities. I am so busynow that I have no time for worry.”
No time for worry！ That is exactly what Winston Churchillsaid when he was working eighteen hours a day at the height ofthe war. When he was asked if he worried about his tremendousresponsibilities， he said： “I’m too busy. I have no time for worry.”
Charles Kettering was in that same fix when he started out toinvent a self-starter for automobiles. Mr. Kettering was， until hisrecent retirement， vice-president of General Motors in charge ofthe worldfamous General Motors Research Corporation. But inthose days， he was so poor that he had to use the hayloft of a barnas a laboratory. To buy groceries， he had to use fifteen hundreddollars that his wife had made by giving piano lessons； later， had to borrow five hundred dollars on his life insurance. I asked hiswife if she wasn’t worried at a time like that. “Yes，” she replied， “Iwas so worried I couldn’t sleep； but Mr. Kettering wasn’t. He wastoo absorbed in his work to worry.”
The great scientist， Pasteur， spoke of “the peace that is foundin libraries and laboratories.” Why is peace found there？ Becausethe men in libraries and laboratories are usually too absorbed intheir tasks to worry about themselves. Research men rarely havenervous breakdowns. They haven’t time for such luxuries.
Why does such a simple thing as keeping busy help to driveout anxiety？ Because of a law—one of the most fundamental lawsever revealed by psychology. And that law is： that it is utterlyimpossible for any human mind， no matter how brilliant， to thinkof more than one thing at any given time. You don’t quite believeit？ Very well， then， let’s try an experiment.
Suppose you lean right back now， close your eyes， and try， atthe same instant， to think of the Statue of Liberty and of what youplan to do tomorrow morning. （Go ahead， try it.）You found out， didn’t you， that you could focus on eitherthought in turn， but never on both simultaneously？ Well， the samething is true in the field of emotions. We cannot be pepped upand enthusiastic about doing something exciting and feel draggeddown by worry at the very same time. One kind of emotion drivesout the other. And it was that simple discovery that enabled Armypsychiatrists to perform such miracles during the war.
When men came out of battle so shaken by the experience thatthey were called “psychoneurotic”， Army doctors prescribed “Keep’em busy” as a cure. Every waking minute of these nerve-shockedmen was filled with activity—usually outdoor activity， suchas fishing， hunting， playing ball， golf， taking pictures， makinggardens， and dancing. They were given no time for brooding overtheir terrible experiences.
“Occupational therapy” is the term now used by psychiatrywhen work is prescribed as though it were a medicine. It is notnew. The old Greek physicians were advocating it five hundredyears before Christ was born！
The Quakers were using it in Philadelphia in Ben Franklin’stime. A man who visited a Quaker sanatorium in 1774 wasshocked to see that the patients who were mentally ill were busyspinning flax. He thought these poor unfortunates were beingexploited—until the Quakers explained that they found that theirpatients actually improved when they did a little work. It wassoothing to the nerves.
