Sunday, November 06, 2005
Many of us spend years searching for happiness and in so doing make ourselves unhappy. Once we realize how elusive it is and accept our lot in life, playing the hand you're dealt if you will, we find contentment. We then see that the happiness we sought is just a state of mind, whereas being content is where true happiness lies. The following poem says it oh so much better than I ever could.
An ancient gaffer once I knew,
Who puffed a pipe and tossed a tankard;
He claimed a hundred years and two,
And for a dozem more he hankered;
So o'er a pint I asked how he
Had kept his timbers tight together;
He grinned and answered: "It maun be
Because I likes all kinds o' weather.
"For every morn when I get up
I lights me clay pipe wi' a cinder,
And as me mug o' tea I sup
I looks from out the cottage winder;
And if it's shade or if it's shine
Or wind or snow befit to freeze me,
I always say : Well, now, that's fine...
It's just the sort o' day to please me.
For I have found it wise in life in life
To take the luck the way it's coming;
A wake, a worry, or a wife--
Just carry on and keep a-humming.
And so I lights me pipe o' clay,
And though the morn on blizzard borders,
I chuckle in me guts and say:
It's just the day the doctor orders".
A mighty good philosophy
Thought I, and leads to longer living,
To make the best of things that be,
And take the weather of God's giving;
And winds be edged and sleet be slanting,
Heap faggots on the fire and say:
"It's just the kind of day I'm wanting".
Trucker Bob blogged at 3:50 AM