I’ve been getting caught up in winning and losing lately. The politics in the playroom is getting pretty cut-throat and the pressure to take sides, whether regarding sports activities, political discussions, philosophical positions, religious notions, you name it, is increasingly intense. It almost seems as if winning or losing is more the issue than thoughtful reasoning about issues. Winning, it seems, becomes synonymous for many with success.

I read an article recently that suggested one was less likely to succeed if she was overly optimistic. I guess the idea is too much optimism inhibits the drive to compete; to strive for the head of the line, for the promotion or the big raise. The optimist, the writer suggests, assumes good things are in store regardless of how hard she works for them.

It seems to me the whole idea of winning presupposes a common desire which will be satisfied by material reward resulting in an enhanced sense of well-being. This ‘success’ will never be more than temporary which means additional winning will be required to not simply sustain it but to avoid the debilitating depression of ‘failure’, the result being a vicious cycle of competing egos egged on by media hype and recognition. Then, one day I awake to the realization someone else is determining my values for me; my well-being is no longer in my own hands and has become embedded in the competitive, material realm.

Well, I’m not having any of it. I really don’t care how popular success is measured. I’m staying positive and optimistic. I’ll look past the material realm and embrace the purity of beauty and truth. I understand this may require some disassociation.

Life in the playroom can be pretty predictable. It’s a rare day our mundane existence doesn’t rule. Ordinary is almost always the order of the day.  And, although I’m not in the least bored, having as I do a number of creative activities I enjoy and engage in daily, I sometimes wonder whether or not the uninterrupted routine deadens my imagination; if in fact the progress and results of my daily engagements are less than they might be.

So, it occurs to me that perhaps I need to liven up the day, break the routine. This idea is not a comfortable one for me because I do quite enjoy the consistent pace of life and any disruption would be a discomfort causing, at least, some level of anxiety. And, the greater the disruption the greater the discomfort would be, I have no doubt. But, in the interests of potentially achieving superior experiences in my creative endeavors I feel I should began to impose certain discomforts on myself at least occasionally.

I could impose some sort of physical discomfort on myself like running around naked out in the cold until my plastic becomes brittle, but I think the psychological realm is where I should take aim. Perhaps I could volunteer to sing a solo with the church choir. I don’t belong to a church choir or go to church for that matter and can’t really sing which means, if I were to score such a gig, an extremely unpleasant experience would probably await me.

Or, I could make myself available for extended conversation with the Mormon boys. They come around pretty regularly and are always more than willing to tell me about Jesus’ time in North America and the revelations of Joseph Smith who definitely had some good ones.  This possibility has discomfort written all over it.

I’ll have to think about this for a while. It’s going to be a matter of balancing the degree of discomfort and the potential for imaginative invention with the serenity of routine existence and maybe less than wonderful creative results. It’s all about peace of mind I suppose.