To toil gives man purpose. His eyes glisten with fervor at the thought of work and career.
Because he is distracted.
Because he is caged.
A caged man is unencumbered; he has his walls and his routine to keep him company.
To keep him happy.
To keep him sane.
The hamster, too, is happy. His wheel delights him and tests his muscles.
He wants for nothing.
He is at peace.
Unfettered man—without vocation or ability to set his hand to the plough—is miserable.
Unencumbered by distraction, he is DOOMED to seek for purpose.
What he seeks,
he will not find.
For meaning is perhaps found only by those who do not seek for it.
The hamster, choosing to be a more enlightened creature, would get off his wheel and then soon die.
The cage, and his wheel,
are his salvation.
