On Work

I believe in work. I believe in doing the work that presents itself. The work that is in front of you. I believe in cleaning the sink and the toilet. I believe in the dignity of that work. I believe in packaging books carefully into plastic sleeves or boxes. I believe in responding to every email, returning phone calls, and proofreading. I do not always do each of those things, but I believe in them.

I believe that work in and of itself has dignity. I believe that the labor of the world brings us closer to the world: taking out the garbage, shredding papers for recycling, sweeping up dog hair and the carcasses of frogs and lizards in the lanai (the true natural born killer in our household is Vita). I believe that work reminds us of the value of rest and the joy of play. Every day there is more work to be done. The world begs for more work from all of us, cleaning, organizing, fixing, returning, trimming, watering, building. There is always work to be done, always work that presents itself. It has value. It has meaning, but not all of our work is work that presents itself, some of our work is creation.

I believe in creating the work that the world yearns to have done, even if does not immediately present itself. I believe in imagining new things and working to bring them into being. I believe in setting aside time from the daily work, from the work the world clamors for to imagine then create the work that the world only whispers for, that the world does not even know that it needs.

I am listening, looking for silence and calm and peace, to hear the work of the world, to listen for what the world yearns for in its solace, in its moments of contemplation. I am sitting, I am making space for new work, for letting the impossible, the unimaginable, the silent speak, creating something new, something we cannot yet comprehend, something that we will want, desperately need as it slowly comes into being.