Marcus Aurelius practiced psychotherapy in the more pretentious and stilted style appropriate, perhaps, to his time and position. From this philosopher-emperor each of us will do well to absorb the following quotation: "Begin the morning by saying to yourself, I shall meet with the busybody, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All these things happen to them by reason of their ignorance of what is good and evil."

Why shouldn't we be prepared beforehand to view all these people with pity instead of resentment? Their attitude toward us and their abuse of us has really nothing to do with us, but means merely an exploitation of their peculiarities. To prepare ourselves in this way to meet ridicule, abuse, and the like means no more than for a sailor to be ready to put down the helm in a squall. If we should set about learning to sail a boat, this is one of the first things we should do, but we pay very little attention to learning how to run ourselves. On this point Epictetus says, "Cease to make yourselves slaves. Is there not some advantage to be gained from this man? From all: even a reviler. Does not the wrestler gain advantage from him with whom he exercises before the combat? The greatest. And just in the same manner I can exercise myself with this man - and the heavier he is the better for me; and it is surely an advantage to me when I am exercised in gentleness of temper. This is knowing how to gain an advantage from men."

The brief maxim should be constantly at command to clench such suggestions. Try keeping these in mind as you go about your daily live. "These are the annoyances incident to my business. To fret when they occur means that I cannot manage my business without friction." Another is this (for use when subordinates show stupidity), "If he had my brains he'd have my job". And finally (as a shield against everyday annoyances and resentments), "Never touched me."

I can think of no better illustration of the way such maxims should be ready for immediate use than the following instance, in which the laugh, by the way, was on me. I was walking with a friend one day when an automobile came up behind us, announcing its approach by one of those peculiar notes so far from the honk of a self-respecting goose that it can be described neither as a groan, grunt, growl, nor scream, but rather as possessing the discordant elements of all four. " Don't you hate those freak horns!" I exclaimed, rather petulantly. "I used to," he said, "but since reading your book I say to myself, 'Never touched me!'"

This incident marks the progress respectively of my friend and myself in mental training. For I have no hesitation in presenting myself, not as a past-master, but rather as a student-instructor in this branch of practical philosophy.