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Tuesday, 15 April 2014

Lessons of age. 1) Work as a form of self-harm

I'm getting quite old now and I'm beginning to understand certain things so I might as well write them down.
First up is 'work', and 'jobs'.   I've never been a fan of 'the job'.  Of  'working for The Man'.  You know that thing, when you feel 'I HAVE to...'?
Well don't.  Just don't.

Obviously, we need shelter and food.  What we don't need are bank loans and car loans and other forms of being 'owned'.  We only have one shot at life (that we know of) and we don't need to spend it as prisoners in a forty hour week debt hell,  waiting for the next holiday to come around so that we can feel that our 'job' is worthwhile.  We need to allow our souls to expand.  We need to figure out what life is about.

Or at least I do.

Every hour spent working for someone else is an hour of your life you'll never get back.

Jobs are different from 'work'.  In fact,  I'd go as far as to say that jobs are not work.  Work is your own thing.  It could be making a chair from lollipop sticks or digging the garden or painting your ceiling or making a pair of curtains or baking a cake or writing a book.  Work is pleasurable and gives focus and enhances your life.  'Jobs' tend to be crap.  'Jobs' involve bosses, and time sheets, and cramming yourself into someone else's schedule.

I've spent most of my adult life doing 'jobs' rather than 'work'.  If I had my life to live over again,  I would do my utmost to find the courage not to do that. 

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