The Magic of Believing

Too many opponents of social ism-once convinced that there is no simple remedy at hand, and aware that the problem at issue is nothing less than altering the mores of a vast society-tend to give up the ghost. Unnerved by the dimensions of the job, they say, "Oh, what's the use!" Experience leads one to believe that the forces which have to do with shaping human destiny are ofno help to those of little faith. Indeed, they appear to have no truck with people who lack confidence in what deter mined effort can accomplish. On the other hand, these forces call them by your own name-tend to cooperate with those who believe they can accomplish the seemingly First published in 1959. 690 impossible and never call it quits until the game is over. There are men, be it observed, who do, in fact, move mountains. But they are rwt the men who doubt that mountains can be moved. Take note, for instance, of golfers on putting greens. There are those who doubt they can sink any but the simplest putts. And there are those who have confidence that they can sink every putt-they actually be lieve this! The former are miserable performers. Among the latter are to be found the skilled and all the mir acle putters.

Miracles are all about us-a com mon loaf of bread is packed with wonders. Those who have no sense of the miraculous, who have no faith in achieving anything beyond what the unaided individual can accom plish, will be of little help in ridding our society of socialism. The prob lem seems too hopelessly impossible to them and they quit. But the un daunted, those who know the magic of believing, will make progress, for the forces which are available to those who believe will lend a hand to multiply their efforts. Too bad there aren't more such efforts for them to multiply! i I,Pencll I AM A LEAD PENCIL-the ordinary wooden pencil familiar to all boys and girls and adults who can read and write.* Writing is both my vocation and my avocation; that's all I do. You may wonder why I should write a genealogy. Well, to begin with, my story is interesting. And, next, I am a mystery-more so than a tree or a sunset or even a flash of lightning. But, sadly, I am taken for granted by those who use me, as if I were a mere incident and without background. This supercilious atti tude relegates me to the level of the commonplace. This is a species of the From The Freeman, December 1958.