| The Joy of Service |
Chapter 21 |
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What is the real secret of the commonness the almost universality, of this habit of mind? For it must be confessed that there are comparatively few persons with whom one meets who are not addicted to this unwholesome way of talking about their ills and ailments real or imaginary. What is the motive for it? Why does it appear to give so much pleasure? Is it prompted by an unhealthy craving for sympathy? One who is always well, and who never complains, is not commiserated. Nobody says, “How pale you look! I am very sorry you are such a sufferer”; and many persons seem to find great comfort in being pitied in this way. They would rather have others speak to them of their ailments than of their fine health.
But the best that can be said about such a craving is that it is miserably unwholesome. It is exaggerated selfishness, too, which takes delight in burdening others with the recital of all one’s little bodily pains or discomforts – how many hours one lay awake last night, what a hard cough one has, how one’s head ached all the morning, now one suffers from rheumatism or neuralgia, how one’s digestion has been bad for a week, and the endless catalogue of ills to which flesh is heir. Suppose you had a restless night, or did cough for hours, or were nervous; or suppose you have pains in your back or in you head, or have a heavy cold, – why must you go over all the details of your wretchedness in talking with any one you can get to listen to the recital? What good comes of speaking about these unpleasant things?
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