"It's not the large things that send a man to the madhouse, "Charles Bukowski has written. "No, it's the continuing series of small tragedies . . . a shoelace that snaps, with no time left."
I was recently reading a synopsis of a book about Abraham Lincoln's melancholic tendencies and came across the preceding quote. Perfectly encapsulates how life wears us down.
God is in the details.
The Devil is in the details.
Don't sweat the petty stuff.
Pay attention to the details and the big things will take care of themselves.
"The notes, I can play. They are easy. But the spaces between the notes, ah, that's where the artistry resides." Artur Schnabel, pianist/composer.
It's the spaces between life's notes that frequently trip me up. On rare occasions, I handle them with great virtuosity and I cherish those times. But more often than not, I come up empty handed and fulfill the "stupid male" stereotype I hear touted at work all the time by my more harpy-ish female coworkers.
I'm in a rather black frame at the moment. Must..............ride...............bike...........MORE!
Peace, out,
Ankh
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