That's a context I created. I then began assuming the being of a resident monk in a monastery's vast warehouse of filing cabinets which store its papers like sacred objects. This would be the Zen of paperwork: an experience, an opportunity for satori and staples, moksha and manila folders.
Part of what transforms an erstwhile rote, boring task into a worthwhile experience, is our being willing to deal with fine detail and minutiae, as an opportunity rather than a predicament. It's the opportunity to relate to (ie to learn to relate to) minutiae ie to the mundane, as if to the sacred.
The fine detail and minutiae of a mammoth paperwork project, is what it is. It (in and of itself) has no intrinsic rote, boring qualities. "Rote" and "boring" are qualities only human beings say are there. Assessing which qualities you assign to any project ie taking responsibility for them, then choosing afresh whether to keep them or not (and in the case of not, then bringing forth others in their stead which serve the project better) is ground zero ie it's the bedrock on which Zen walks.
There's something else Werner says which when gotten, has the power to awaken (in the sense of to enlighten): "Life is empty and meaningless, and it's empty and meaningless that it's empty and meaningless" (note: making it mean something that it's empty and meaningless, is more arrogance). If you get that, you can get as much value and enjoyment from a Mount Everest of paperwork, as a stroll down the Champs-Élysées, or a sail on an Amazon river boat. Some of us get it intuitively. Others request clarification and training. Engaging in a mammoth five day, finely detailed paperwork project, is a good place to start. It's great training. It's good Zen.
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