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One of my patients, a successful businessman, tells me that before his cancer he would become depressed unless things went a certain way. Happiness was "having the cookie." If you had the cookie, things were good. If you didn't have the cookie, life wasn't worth a damn. Unfortunately, the cookie kept changing. Some of the time it was money, sometimes power, sometimes sex. At other times, it was the new car, the biggest contract, the most prestigious address. A year and a half after his diagnosis of prostate cancer he sits shaking his head ruefully. "It's like I stopped learning how to live after I was a kid. When I give my son a cookie, he is happy. If I take the cookie away or it breaks, he is unhappy. But he is two and a half and I am forty-three. It's taken me this long to understand that the cookie will never make me happy for long. The minute you have the cookie it starts to crumble or you start to worry about it crumbling or about someone trying to take it away from you. You know, you have to give up a lot of things to take care of the cookie, to keep it from crumbling and be sure that no one takes it away from you. You may not even get a chance to eat it because you are so busy just trying not to lose it. Having the cookie is not what life is about."
我有一位病人，他是一個(gè)成功的商人，告訴我，在他患癌癥之前，凡事如果沒(méi)有確定下來(lái)他就憂心忡忡。對(duì)他而言，幸福是“擁有小甜餅”。如果你擁有了小甜餅，一切都一帆風(fēng)順。如果你沒(méi)有小甜餅，生活就一文不值。不幸的是，小甜餅總是不斷變換著，有時(shí)是金錢(qián)，有時(shí)是權(quán)力，有時(shí)是欲望。在其他時(shí)候，它是一輛新車、一份數(shù)額最大的合同、或者一個(gè)享有聲望的通訊地址。在他被診斷出患有前列腺癌的一年半之后，他坐在那里，悲天憫人地?fù)u著頭，說(shuō)：“長(zhǎng)大以后，我好像就不知道怎樣生活了。當(dāng)我給我兒子一個(gè)小甜餅時(shí)，他心花怒放。如果我拿走甜餅或者是小甜餅碎了，他就悶悶不樂(lè)。不同的是，他只有兩歲半，而我已經(jīng)43了。我花了這么長(zhǎng)的時(shí)間才明白小甜餅并不能使我長(zhǎng)久感到幸福。從你擁有小甜餅的那一刻，它就開(kāi)始破碎，或者你就開(kāi)始擔(dān)心它會(huì)破碎，抑或你開(kāi)始擔(dān)心別人拿走它。為了守護(hù)你的小甜餅，為了防止它破碎或者確定別人不會(huì)從你手中奪走它，你不得不放棄許多東西。你忙于不讓自己失去它，甚至沒(méi)有時(shí)間享受它。擁有小甜餅并不是生活的全部?jī)?nèi)容。
