By "monkey", I am referring to the one in the monkey and the peanuts and the tree story. You know, the monkey who stuck his paw into a hole in the tree trunk to get a hold of the peanuts. The monkey, who, with its paw bulging with peanuts, couldn't get it out but refused to let go of the peanuts, not suspecting that it was a trap set up by hunters to catch silly monkeys.
Much as I hate to admit my stupidity, it has finally dawned on me that in some ways, I've been acting like the monkey who has sacrificed and given up its freedom, and for what? Just a handful of cheap peanuts. What's embarrassing is that I've been treating ordinary peanuts as invaluable treasure, so loath to let go and so sure of its value, only to finally find it cheap and crass and tawdry. The gold varnish has finally flaked showing the common metal underneath.
Who's a monkey like me?
I'm sure I'm not the only silly monkey who can't distinguish the real from the fake, truth from lies, the cheap from the priceless, the enduring from the superficial. So how does one learn the real value of value? Because it's silly to continue to pay dearly for the worthless, and to scorn the inestimable and the rare just because of their uneasily recognised value. It's not as bad feeling silly as it is kicking oneself for having thrown away something which is irreplaceably worth its weight in gold.
Stupid monkey.
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