Phlebitis developed. Her leg shrank. The pain became so intensethat the doctor felt her leg had to be amputated. He was almostafraid to tell the stormy， tempestuous “divine Sarah” what hadto be done. He fully expected that the terrible news would set offan explosion of hysteria. But he was wrong. Sarah looked at hima moment， and then said quietly： “If it has to be， it has to be.” Itwas fate.
As she was being wheeled away to the operating room， herson stood weeping. She waved to him with a gay gesture and saidcheerfully： “Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”
On the way to the operating room she recited a scene from oneof her plays. Someone asked her if she were doing this to cheerherself up. She said： “No， to cheer up the doctors and nurses. Itwill be a strain on them.”
After recovering from the operation， Sarah Bernhardt went ontouring the world and enchanting audiences for another seven years.
“When we stop fighting the inevitable，” said Elsie Mac-Cormickin a Reader’s Digest article， “we release energy which enables us tocreate a richer life.”
No one living has enough emotion and vigour to fight theinevitable and， at the same time， enough left over to create anew life. Choose one or the other. You can either bend with theinevitable sleet-storms of life—or you can resist them and break！
I saw that happen on a farm I own in Missouri. I planted ascore of trees on that farm. At first， they grew with astonishingrapidity. Then a sleet-storm encrusted each twig and branchwith a heavy coating of ice. Instead of bowing gracefully to theirburden， these trees proudly resisted and broke and split underthe load—and had to be destroyed. They hadn’t learned thewisdom of the forests of the north. I have travelled hundreds ofmiles through the evergreen forests of Canada， yet I have neverseen a spruce or a pine broken by sleet or ice. These evergreenforests know how to bend， how to bow down their branches， howto co-operate with the inevitable.
The masters of jujitsu teach their pupils to “bend like thewillow； don’t resist like the oak.”
Why do you think your automobile tyres stand up on the roadand take so much punishment？ At first， the manufacturers triedto make a tyre that would resist the shocks of the road. It wassoon cut to ribbons. Then they made a tyre that would absorbthe shocks of the road. That tyre could “take it”. You and I willlast longer， and enjoy smoother riding， if we learn to absorb theshocks and jolts along the rocky road of life.
What will happen to you and me if we resist the shocks of lifeinstead of absorbing them？ What will happen if we refuse to “bend like the willow” and insist on resisting like the oak？ The answer iseasy. We will set up a series of inner conflicts. We will be worried，tense， strained， and neurotic.
If we go still further and reject the harsh world of reality andretreat into a dream world of our own making， we will then beinsane.
During the war， millions of frightened soldiers had either toaccept the inevitable or break under the strain. To illustrate， let’stake the case of William H. Casselius， 7126 76th Street， Glendale，New York. Here is a prize-winning talk he gave before one of myadult-education classes in New York：
“Shortly after I joined the Coast Guard， I was assigned toone of the hottest spots on this side of the Atlantic. I was madea supervisor of explosives. Imagine it. Me！ A biscuit salesmanbecoming a supervisor of explosives！ The very thought of findingyourself standing on top of thousands of tons of T.N.T. is enoughto chill the marrow in a cracker salesman’s bones. I was givenonly two days of instruction； and what I learned filled me witheven more terror. I’ll never forget my first assignment. On a dark，cold， foggy day， I was given my orders on the open pier of CavenPoint， Bayonne， New Jersey.
“I was assigned to Hold No. 5 on my ship. I had to work downin that hold with five longshoremen. They had strong backs，but they knew nothing whatever about explosives. And theywere loading blockbusters， each one of which contained a tonof T.N.T.—enough explosive to blow that old ship to kingdomcome. These blockbusters were being lowered by two cables. Ikept saying to myself： Suppose one of those cables slipped—orbroke！ Oh， boy！ Was I scared！ I trembled. My mouth was dry. Myknees sagged. My heart pounded. But I couldn’t run away. Thatwould be desertion. I would be disgraced—my parents would be disgraced—and I might be shot for desertion. I couldn’t run. I hadto stay. I kept looking at the careless way those longshoremen werehandling those blockbusters. The ship might blow up any minute.
After an hour or more of this spine-chilling terror， I began to usea little common sense. I gave myself a good talking to. I said： ‘Lookhere！ So you are blown up. So what！ You will never know thedifference！ It will be an easy way to die. Much better than dyingby cancer. Don’t be a fool. You can’t expect to live for ever！ You’vegot to do this job—or be shot. So you might as well like it.’
“I talked to myself like that for hours； and I began to feel atease. Finally， I overcame my worry and fears by forcing myself toaccept an inevitable situation.
“I’ll never forget that lesson. Every time I am tempted nowto worry about something I can’t possibly change， I shrug myshoulders and say： ‘Forget it.’ I find that it works—even for abiscuit salesman.” Hooray！ Let’s give three cheers and one cheermore for the biscuit salesman of the Pinafore.
“Try to bear lightly what needs must be.” Those words werespoken 399 years before Christ was born； but this worrying oldworld needs those words today more than ever before： “Try tobear lightly what needs must be.”
