From: owner-basia-digest@smoe.org (basia-digest) To: basia-digest@smoe.org Subject: basia-digest V2 #79 Reply-To: basia@smoe.org Sender: owner-basia-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-basia-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk X-To-Unsubscribe: Send mail to "basia-digest-request@smoe.org" X-To-Unsubscribe: with "unsubscribe" as the body. basia-digest Wednesday, May 14 1997 Volume 02 : Number 079 Today's Subjects: ----------------- Thoughts to share ["Diane F. Fisli" ] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 13 May 1997 13:11:44 -0700 (PDT) From: "Diane F. Fisli" Subject: Thoughts to share I just got this in my email box - it is (mistakenly, I think) labeled "junk mail"... >-------------------------------------------------------------------------- > > THE WINDOW > ---------- > >Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One of them >was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain >the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The >other man had to spend all his time lying flat on his back. > >The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, >their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where >they had been on vacation and so on. And on every afternoon when the man >in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by >describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. >The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where >his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour >of the outside world. > >The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man said. Ducks and >swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers >walked arm in arm amid flowers of every colour of the rainbow. Grand old >trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be >seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in >exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his >eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. > >One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by. >Although the other man couldn't hear the band, he could picture it in his >mind as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. >Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: > >Why should he have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get >to see anything? > >It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at >first. But as the days passed by and he missed seeing more sights, his >envy eroded into resentment and it soon turned him sour. He began to brood >and he found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window - that >thought now controlled his life. > >Late one night as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window >began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man >watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped >for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room he never >moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse >running. In less than five minutes the coughing and choking stopped, along >with the sound of breathing. Now there was only silence - deathly silence. > >The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their >baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was >saddened and called the hospital attendants to take it away - no hassle, >no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could >be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and >after making sure that he was comfortable, she left him alone. > >Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first >look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all by himself. He >strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. > >It faced a blank wall. > >--------------------------------------------------------------------------- > >So, the moral of the story is : the pursuit of happiness is a matter of >choice. It is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is >not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it >come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are the >things that make us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will >never find lasting joy. > >The pursuit of happiness is an inward journey. Our minds are like >programs, awaiting for the code that will determine behaviour, like bank >vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, >encouraging, and uplifting thoughts; if we continue to bite our lips just >before we begin to grumble and complain; if we shoot down that seemingly >harmless negative thought as it germinates, you will find that there is >much to rejoice about. > >"The optimist sees the donut...the pessimist sees the hole.....but the >realist sees the calories." > >========================================================= I see the donut... And the Basia album sometime before the end of the millennium... :) - --Di. ------------------------------ End of basia-digest V2 #79 **************************