The Window
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital
room. One man 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 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. 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 color 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 color 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 see it in his mind's eye 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 and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded
into resentment and 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 works, 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 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 himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. --- It
faced a blank wall.
The morale 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
not 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 behavior; 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.