I feel myself falling into a rut lately. The routine has become insufferable. The days are passing painfully predictably: out of the box at 10, stand by the window, pose for a while, get leered at by that awful monkey and the other boring inanimates I am loathe to inhabit the studio with and, then, back in the box until morning when it starts all over again. I won’t even go into the days I don’t get taken out of the box at all. I’m feeling my life isn’t my own, that I’m simply a small cog in a big impersonal mechanism.
I guess Woody Allen’s right: all you need to do to succeed in life is show up….and play the game. If only the bills needn’t be paid I would fly (figuratively speaking that is).
But certainly there’s relief to be had. The Stoics recommend, when meaning in life is elusive, contemplating what it would be like if one lost what one had. How much worse would it be without those small things we take for granted, like a nice cozy box……………..well, a cozy box is better than nothing. I will try to be happy with what I have, the way things are…………….and I’ll sign up for flying lessons.