The human mind once again.
Here’s an excerpt from a source¹ that describes how to use mental power that’s commonly ignored, to stay alive.
On the back of a book jacket is a letter from “Lt. Col.–USAF” to Harry Lorayne (author):
Dear Mr. Lorayne:
“I was a POW from 1966 to 1973. Shortly before I was shot down and captured I read one of your books. The POWs had no reading or writing material, so we relied solely on [your memory system] for sanity…During the first few months of captivity, while flat on my back in a cast, I attempted to reconstruct the contents of your book…I applied your system…and found that it indeed worked! I taught it to hundreds of my fellow POWs over the next six years. Eventually it… [For more use the DOOR.]
“…was spread throughout the camp and was an invaluable aid to all of us…We applied your system and learned literally thousands of foreign words, poems, speeches, mathematics, electronics, classical music, philosophy…the list is endless. This opened new worlds of mental activity which was so important to us since we were isolated from the world for such a long period of time…Just wanted to tell you how much your systems meant to all of us behind the bamboo wall.”
I personally know what it’s like to lie flat on your back in a body cast–but for only weeks, and under the best of medical care².
Rarely have I read such a gripping book jacket! Who hasn’t wanted to improve his memory, especially when, as we’ve pointed out, so much brain potential lurks within our craniums.
Lorayne’s and Lucas’s powerful techniques invite humor, and are intriguing. More on this later. Our source is described in the note below.
¹ The Memory Book by Harry Lorayne and Jerry Lucas (former NBA basketball star) [Hardcover, Stein and Day, 1974; now in paperback, 1996–see Amazon]. Several million in sales, but not recently talked about very much. Read this and never forget it.
² For a broken femur in a school playground accident in the late ’40s. In fact, I wrote my first “book” (Jack and His Dog) while lying there. It’s buried in a wooden chest 50 feet from where I now sit. (My family, except under duress, throws nothing away.)