The same is true of the will.

At a given moment, perhaps during a crisis, one

has a
vivid and unmistakable inner experience of its reality and nature. When
danger
threatens to paralyze us, suddenly, from the mysterious depths of our being,
surges
an unsuspected strength which enables us to place a firm foot on the edge of
the
precipice or confront an aggressor calmly and resolutely. Before the
threatening
attitude of an unfair superior or when facing an excited mob, when personal
reasons would induce us to yield, the will gives us the power to say
resolutely:
"No! At all costs I stand by my convictions I will perform what I take to be
right."
Similarly, when assailed by some insinuating and seducing temptation, the
will
raises us, shaking us out of our acquiescence and freeing us from the snare.
The inner experience of "willing" may come also in other, more quiet and
subtle
ways. During periods of silence and meditation, in the careful examination of
our
motives, in moments of thoughtful deliberation and decision, a "voice," small
but
distinct, will sometimes make itself heard urging us to a specific course of
action, a prompting which is different from that of our ordinary motives and
impulses. We feel that it comes from the central core of our being. Or else an
inner illumination makes us aware of the reality of the will with an
overwhelming conviction that asserts itself
irresistibly.
However, the simplest and most frequent way in which we discover our will is
through determined action and struggle. When we make a physical or mental
effort, when we are actively wrestling with some obstacle or coping with
opposing
forces, we feel a specific power rising up within us and this inner energy
gives us
the experience of "willing."
Let us realize thoroughly the full meaning and immense value of the
discovery of
the will. In whatever way it happens, either spontaneously or through
conscious
action, in a crisis or in the quiet of inner recollection, it constitutes a most
important and decisive event in our lives.

The discovery of the will in oneself, and even more the realization that the
self and
the will are intimately connected, may come as a real revelation which can
change,
often radically, a man's selfawareness and his whole attitude toward himself,
other
people, and the world. He perceives that he is a "living subject" endowed
with the
power to choose, to relate, to bring about changes in his own personality, in
others,
in circumstances. This enhanced awareness, this "awakening" and vision of
new,
unlimited potentialities for inner expansion and outer action, gives a new
feeling of
confidence, security, joya sense of "wholeness."
But this initial revelation, this inner light, however vivid and inspiring at the
moment of its occurrence, is apt to grow dim and to flicker out or give only
intermittent flashes. The new awareness of self and will becomes easily
submerged
by the constant surge of drives, desires, emotions, and ideas. It is crowded
out by
the ceaseless inrush of impressions from the outer world. Thus the need to
protect,
cultivate, and strengthen the| initial attainment becomes evident, in order to
make it
a constant possession and utilize its great possibilities.
" But when one puts oneself to this task, one finds oneself confronted by
difficulties, and experiencing resistance. The first resistance is often due to
the
current misunder standing about the nature and function of the will. The
Victorian
conception of the will still prevails, a conception of something stern and
forbidding, which condemns and represses most of the other aspects of
human
nature. But such a misconception might be called a| caricature of the will.
The true
function of the will is not] to act against the personality drives to force the
accomplishment of one's purposes. The will has a directive and regulatory
function it balances and constructively utilizes! all the other activities and
energies
of the human being without repressing any of them.

The function of the will is similar to that performed by the helmsman of a

ship. He
knows what the ship's course should be, and keeps her steadily on it, despite
the
drifts caused by the wind and current. But the power he needs to turn the
wheel is
altogether different from that required to propel the ship through the water,
whether it be generated by engines, the pressure of the winds on the sail, or
the
efforts of rowers.