Confidence is faith in the continuance and increase of your own mental ability. It is not belief. It is knowledge - the knowledge that there is a constancy in the very constitution of things.
Our planet the earth and its brothers and sisters go steadily on their regular path round the sun. It would be disconcerting indeed if one fine morning we woke up to discover that they had thrown off the harness of their regular occupations and were indulging in some fancies by dancing a Highland Fling or a Spanish Fandango - that is, if we could wake up at all in such circumstances, and were not overwhelmed with disaster at the first disturbance of the regularity and harmony which we call natural law. But there will be no such fancifulness - we are sure of that, even though that surety is only faith. Only faith! Why, faith is the very foundation of all our mind-work and conscious being, of all our sanity. We have an ineradicable faith that the world is sane. And we like this. We think with delight of ``the ordered music of the marching orbs''.
We are part and parcel of this great sanity, and the axes on which we have grown will not fail us any more than the axis of the earth. So it is no use your saying to me: ``Concentration is difficult; I shall never be able to accomplish it''. I know how easy it is, and how easy for you as well as for me, though it is not so easy to remove your unfaith. A little child might say, ``I cannot walk'', but mother holds open her arms and says, ``Come on, come on'', and the child walks, tottering perhaps at first, but later with a free and joyous tread.
So do not tell me you cannot concentrate. That would be saying that you cannot do anything at all and that you never have done anything with prior thought. Is it in the nature of men to concentrate their minds when they wish to do so or not? Of course it is. But I know what is the matter with you; you are wishing, not willing. You have not said: ``I will concentrate''. You have not even said: ``I will begin to concentrate, just a very little bit''.
When you pick up your book what do you say to yourself? First, ``Shall I pick up the book?'' and then ``I will pick up the book''. In this there is no wishing at all. There is only will, as soon as you know that you can lift the book. But as long as you say to yourself: ``I wish I could concentrate; I wish I could concentrate; I wish I could concentrate. .. ``you are telling yourself that you cannot do it. If the book weighed five hundred pounds instead of eight ounces you might say, ``I wish I could pick up that book''. That statement would be a true and proper acknowledgment of your inability to do so, and an appropriate obstacle to the formation of the mental picture which precedes the movement of the hand. As it is, however, you cannot say, ``I wish'', because you know full well - or, rather, you have faith - that you can pick it up. So you cannot wish in the matter; you are bound to say, ``I will pick it up'',or, ``I will not pick it up''. And when you have taken one elementary step in concentration you will no longer be able to say: ``I wish I could concentrate'', because you will know that you can. You will only be able to say, ``I will concentrate'', or ``I will not concentrate''. It is the first step that counts, and if you will not take the first step you are no use to yourself or to anybody else.
One thing I must say about this. In your first steps do not judge yourself. You have to go on without thinking of success or failure. ``Perfection or nothing'' is not a good motto for the beginner in any art.
Terrence Brannon 2005-09-09