Story about happiness: Why does a quarryman want to become a rock?

There once lived a quarryman whoworked all day in the quarry from dawn to dusk. His hands were hard and callused. His back was bent, and his face was weathere. He was not happy. He said, »This is no life. Why is it my fate to be a quarryman? Why can’t I be someone who has more wealth than I do? If only I were rich, then I’d be happy.«

An Angel appeared and said, »What would have to happen for you to know you were rich and happy?« »That’s easy. If I was rich I’d live in the city, in a beautiful apartment on the top floor. I’d be able to see the sky. I’d have a fourposter bed with cool black silk sheets, and I’d sleep all day. Then I’d be happy.«

»You are rich,« said the Angel waving her magic wand. And he became rich. And he lived in the city in an apartment on the top floor. And he slept all day in a four-poster bed with cool black silk sheets. And he was happy. Until one day he was disturbed by a commotion in the streets below. He sprang out of bed and ran to the window. Looking down he saw a graceful golden carriage. In front were horses and behind were soldiers. It was the King. And the people who thronged the street were cheering and bowing.

The rich man instantly knew unhappiness. »I’m not happy. The king has more power than I do. If only I was the King, then I’d be happy.« And the Angel appeared and said, »You are the King!« And he became the king. And he was happy. He felt his power and he felt his might. And he loved the way people paid him homage, and the way his servants obeyed him, and the way he had the power to decide whether others should live or die. He was happy.

And then one day he noticed the Sun. And he saw how the sun had the power to do things he couldn’t even dream of. He saw how the sun could turn all the fields from green to yellow, and from yellow to brown. He saw how the sun could dry up even the mightiest rivers and leave nothing but parched mud banks. He saw how the sun could starve the world of life. And he knew unhappiness. »I’m not happy. The sun has more power than I do. If only I were the sun, then I’d be happy.«

And the Angel appeared and said, »You are the Sun!« And he became the sun. And he was happy. He felt his power and he felt his might. And he loved the way he could turn the fields from green to brown, dry up the rivers, and change the whole world. And he was happy. And he ruled the world from his zenith, exulting in his power. Until one day he noticed the Cloud, big black Raincloud. And he saw how the cloud had the power to turn all the fields from brown to green, refill the rivers with flowing, frothing water, and retrieve the life of the world.

And depression filled him. »I’m so unhappy. This cloud has more power than I. If only I was a cloud then I’d be happy forever.« And the angel appeared and said, »You are the cloud.« And he became a cloud, and he was happy. He felt his power and might. And he loved the way he could reverse the work of the sun and re-instate life where so little had been before. And he knew real happiness for the first time. Until one day he saw, far below him, a rock. And he saw how the rock, black, strong, unyielding, was unchangeable. And he saw that no matter how much or how hard he rained, nothing he could do could challenge or destroy the rock. The rock was rugged and resistant.

And he knew the bitterness of unhappiness once again. And he said, »I’m so unhappy. If only I were the rock then I’d be happy.« And the angel appeared and said, »You are the rock.« And he became the rock, and he felt his might and he felt his power, and he was happy. He exulted in his strength and sense of permanence. He loved his ability to withstand everything nature could throw at him. He laughed at the sun and he ridiculed rain cloud. Until one day, a Quarryman arrived…