Osa Johnson had discovered the same truth that Tennysonhad sung about a century earlier： “I must lose myself in action，lest I wither in despair.”
Admiral Byrd discovered this same truth when he lived allalone for five months in a shack that was literally buried in thegreat glacial ice-cap that covers the South Pole—an ice-cap thatholds nature’s oldest secrets—an ice-cap covering an unknowncontinent larger than the United States and Europe combined.
Admiral Byrd spent five months there alone. No other livingcreature of any kind existed within a hundred miles. The cold wasso intense that he could hear his breath freeze and crystallise asthe wind blew it past his ears. In his book Alone， Admiral Byrdtells all about those five months he spent in bewildering and soulshatteringdarkness. The days were as black as the nights. He hadto keep busy to preserve his sanity.
“At night，” he says， “before blowing out the lantern， I formedthe habit of blocking out the morrow’s work. It was a case ofassigning myself an hour， say， to the Escape Tunnel， half an hour to leveling drift， an hour to straightening up the fuel drums，an hour to cutting bookshelves in the walls of the food tunnel，and two hours to renewing a broken bridge in the man-haulingsledge....”
“It was wonderful，” he says， “to be able to dole out time inthis way. It brought me an extraordinary sense of command overmyself....” And he adds： “Without that or an equivalent， the dayswould have been without purpose； and without purpose theywould have ended， as such days always end， in disintegration.”
If you and I are worried， let’s remember that we can use goodold-fashioned work as a medicine. That was said by no less anauthority than the late Dr. Richard C. Cabot， formerly professor ofclinical medicine at Harvard. In his book What Men Live By， Dr. Cabot says： “As a physician， I have had the happiness of seeingwork cure many persons who have suffered from trembling palsyof the soul which results from overmastering doubts， hesitations，vacillation and fear. ... Courage given us by our work is like theself-reliance which Emerson has made for ever glorious.”
If you and I don’t keep busy—if we sit around and brood—wewill hatch out a whole flock of what Charles Darwin used to callthe “wibber gibbers”. And the “wibber gibbers” are nothing butoldfashioned gremlins that will run us hollow and destroy ourpower of action and our power of will.
I know a business man in New York who fought the “wibbergibbers” by getting so busy that he had no time to fret and stew.
His name is Tremper Longman， and his office is at 40 Wall Street.
He was a student in one of my adult-education classes； and histalk on conquering worry was so interesting， so impressive， thatI asked him to have supper with me after class； and we sat in arestaurant until long past midnight， discussing his experiences.
Here is the story he told me：
“Eighteen years ago， I was so worried I had insomnia. I wastense， irritated， and jittery. I felt I was headed for a nervousbreakdown.
“I had reason to be worried. I was treasurer of the Crown Fruitand Extract Company， 418 West Broadway， New York. We had halfa million dollars invested in strawberries packed in gallon tins. Fortwenty years， we had been selling these gallon tins of strawberriesto manufactures of ice cream. Suddenly our sales stopped becausethe big ice-cream makers， such as National Dairy and Borden’s，were rapidly increasing their production and were saving moneyand time by buying strawberries packed in barrels.
“Not only were we left with half a million dollars in berrieswe couldn’t sell， but we were also under contract to buy a milliondollars more of strawberries in the next twelve months！ Wehad already borrowed？ 350，000 from the banks. We couldn’tpossibly pay off or renew these loans. No wonder I was worried！
“I rushed out to Watsonville， California， where our factory waslocated， and tried to persuade our president that conditions hadchanged， that we were facing ruin. He refused to believe it. Heblamed our New York office for all the trouble—poor salesmanship.
“After days of pleading， I finally persuaded him to stoppacking more strawberries and to sell our new supply on the freshberry market in San Francisco. That almost solved our problems.
I should have been able to stop worrying then； but I couldn’t.
Worry is a habit； and I had that habit.
“When I returned to New York， I began worrying abouteverything； the cherries we were buying in Italy， the pineapples wewere buying in Hawaii， and so on. I was tense， jittery， couldn’t sleep；and， as I have already said， I was heading for a nervous breakdown.
“In despair， I adopted a way of life that cured my insomniaand stopped my worries. I got busy. I got so busy with problems demanding all my faculties that I had no time to worry. I hadbeen working seven hours a day. I now began working fifteenand sixteen hours a day. I got down to the office every morning ateight o’clock and stayed there every night until almost midnight.
I took on new duties， new responsibilities. When I got home atmidnight， I was so exhausted when I fell in bed that I becameunconscious in a few seconds.
“I kept up this programme for about three months. I had brokenthe habit of worry by that time， so I returned to a normal workingday of seven or eight hours. This event occurred eighteen years ago. Ihave never been troubled with insomnia or worry since then.”
George Bernard Shaw was right. He summed it all up whenhe said： “The secret of being miserable is to have the leisure tobother about whether you are happy or not.” So don’t bother tothink about it！ Spit on your hands and get busy. Your blood willstart circulating； your mind will start ticking—and pretty soonthis whole positive upsurge of life in your body will drive worryfrom your mind. Get busy. Keep busy. It’s the cheapest kind ofmedicine there is on this earth—and one of the best.
To break the worry habit， here is：
Rule 1： Keep busy. The worried person must lose himself inaction， lest be wither in despair.