Four young men sit by the bedside if their dying father. The old man, with his last breath, tells them there is a huge treasure buried in the family fields. The sons crowd around him crying, "Where? where?" but it is too late. The day after the funeral and for many days to come, the young men go out with their picks and shovels and turn the soil, digging deeply into the ground from one end of the field to the other. They find nothing and, bitterly disappointed, abandon the search.
The next season the farm has it's best harvest ever.
(Source: The Art of Possibility by Rosamund and Benjamin Zander).
Some things in life are all about how you see look at them. It's not the age of the eyes but the perspective and opportinity that the eye's view that makes the difference.
What kind of eye's are you looking through?
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