Centuries-old Advice on Overcoming Timidity
Pint-sized treasures from the early 1900s: two of the ten titles comprising the "Mental Efficacy Series"
Whilst poking around in Prescott, Arizona this summer, I found myself in a bookstore. Among its wares were a number of not-so-gently used books. As I stumped around the back room from shelf to shelf, my eye was drawn to a pair of wallet-sized books emblazoned with the title, Mental Efficiency Series. One of these books was Practicality: How to Acquire It. The other—and the one to which I found myself most drawn as I flipped through its small pages—was titled Timidity: How to Overcome It.
If you’re thinking, “These sound like self-help books,” you’re right. They are. But at least in the case of the timidity book, we’re dealing with something much more profound and artistic than the latest bland motivational best-seller you might see paraded about on Oprah, if you watch that stuff.
As its preface indicates, the book is a largely a translation of the ancient works of a Japanese writer suramed Yoritomo-Tashi—who, as it turns out, was one of Japan’s “shogun” rulers, or hereditary military dictators. I don’t know anything about the Japanese language, but the English version of this fellow’s material is quite compelling—both practically and artistically.
What struck me about this little book was that it quickly pointed out my weaknesses, showing me that many of the mannerisms I have simply attributed to my personality are in fact symptoms of timidity—including the occasional foray into “extreme” behavior and exaggerated gestures of confidence, which Yoritomo rightfully describes as the emotionally-intoxicated substitution of indulgent imaginations and presumption for balanced thought and steady effort. He also observes that despite engaging in this sort of behavior, “in their hearts, [timid persons] all desire to remain unknown; . . . for they know that they are shamming, and this knowledge gives them the same assurance that a mask gives to those whose features are hidden by it.” These, of course, are just a tiny selection of the many insights provided in the book. Its lessons make you feel like a fledgling samurai warrior receiving counsel of ancient vintage and convincing poignancy.
Another reason I like the book so much is that it reminds me of the greatest writer ever to suffer tuberculosis of the bone: Alexander Pope. Although this book is prose, and Pope’s work consists largely of heroic couplets, there is something pleasantly similar similar about the style of writing and, particularly, the philosophic texture. I find the language of these lessons very robust, even if Yoritomo’s translator might have had a lot to do with this.
In short, you should seriously consider reading Timidity: How to Overcome It. So challenging and impressive are its contents that you’ll ultimately find yourself perplexed as to its obscurity. I certainly was, and that’s why I’m sharing it with you. Enjoy.
