"Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing?" -- Matt 6
Good question, isn't it? These past few weeks as I've been on break with lots of time to think about how I occupy my time and yet again find myself in a concerted effort towards what feels like an endless job search. My observations of self lead me to a realization that there is something in me that makes this endeavor quite a complicated and difficult one-- whether it be the nature of my student-schedule or all the personal transition that this time of life leads me to or some other subconscious difficulty that simply plagues my daily occupation. But as I am challenging myself more and more to face what makes each decision hard, I am concentrating a great deal on what is it that I want, what motivates me to pursue or back down, why I seem so apt to sabotage perfectly good opportunities.
I've been reading Mike Mason's "Practicing the Presence of People," a book I received for Christmas and a passage I came across today seemed especially fitting and seemed to shed some articulating light on the choices I make about my choice of employment. This particular group of writing is focusing on loving yourself, and a point that the author brings up more than once is the idea of "quitting that job that is slowly killing you." This suggestion is amid a number of other suggestions about how to learn to enjoy your life, treating yourself as you would a good friend.
So often, when I find myself frustrated, confused, and frankly, feeling like a failure for my continued state of unemployment, I wonder why I don't just choose to take any old job that a monkey could land-- why the most simple sources of income seem a possibility to my impoverished self. And surely, I could have easily chosen to return to my old job on campus if life were no "more than food" and the body no "more than clothes," but some deeper part of me would rather go through this frustrating search for something better for my soul.
I found Mason's wording quite particular for his description of the action imposed by ones' occupation: killing. A connotation of death. This phrase immediately brought me back to statements I myself have used to explain jobs of my own, a job that left me feeling enslaved, numb, and angry. Conversely, this phrase also deposited other words I have used to describe other words: life-giving, a job that maybe made me feel more alive than anything I've ever done. It was strange, sitting there in an oversized leather chair in a coffeehouse I actually interviewed at (but was not hired by), having this moment of clarity about all of these things that really matter.
People often say, "it's just a part-time job," (I actually had an interviewer once refer to the job I was previewing as "beer-money") "why does it matter so much?" Or there is always the old, "well, you just do what you can now to get by before you can do what you really want to do." But I've been given time to live my life today. All I have been promised in the breath I have right now. My life is now. That's it. And I have been given the gift of these moments-- why would I spend them doing something other than living?
As I've thought over what it is that I really want to be doing, or answered the question, "Tell my why you would like to work here at ___________," the answer that seems to fall the deepest is simply that I want to be in an environment that allows me to connect with people in a meaningful way without necessitating a compromise of my integrity or connection to my own heart.
And the truth is that oftentimes I am afraid. I am afraid of getting into a situation where I am out of control, where I am no longer able to acknowledge my own pain or unhealthy patterns for the sake of pleasing an employer. This is my tendency. I turn cold, forget my own instincts about what is best for myself because I feel there is some degree of "hard-worker-ness" that I must fulfill to the point of irrational insanity.
Regardless of these fears or whatever, I do know this-- I don't want to spend the gift of time I have been given doing things that are not life-giving. I will walk the dark uncertainty of unemployment before I will give myself to something that sucks away the life I was created for. And although I feel stupid and I feel like success in the job sector is far from me (especially in the eyes of the "almighty they") something in me keeps telling me to keep waiting, a deeper, hidden wholeness feels like life is more than food and the body more than clothing.
2 comments:
Honestly, even now, I still don't know what I think of the work dilemna.
I think it's ironic that you're reading a book who's title paraphrases Brother Lawrence's book title. Brother Lawrence, who learned to experience God while performing the most menial tasks, and doing even that to God's glory.
If I were to give one bit of advice, I'd say: try to seperate yourself from other people's expectations. Because if you're in a job where you feel high expectations, it may be anything but life giving to you. All that to say, it isn't just what a job 'does for you' but it's also what you bring to it, what you give to it, who you give to. The challenge of being yourself, and your employers will either appreciate it or they won't.
I've worked in factories for short periods of time. Hated it. I can see how I could love people there, but still, I hated it, and have no desire to be there again. Part-time jobs can be stepping stones. You learn in every job, to deal with people, to deal with stress, etc. Learning is always valuable. Ultimately, though, I think part of good stewardship is not selling ourselves short. God has given me a fair amount of ability, and I'm not sure that working in a factory would be being a good steward. I'm not sure that the path of the heart is the 'easy' path, but it's the path where we're the most alive. And if you're going to follow your heart, don't expect the doors to swing wide open for you...push them open.
Actually, the book is based on Brother Lawrence's book-- the author says that he thinks if Brother Lawrence were to write a sequel, it would be close to the ideas of his own writing (a judgement I'll leave up to someone who has actually read the classic).
You hit on a point that I have been mulling: is it right to choose not to take a more "humble" job if it is still an opportunity to touch the lives of people? I appreciate your example of working in the factory and the point about stewardship because I wonder if we are in a place that is sucking the life out of us, how will we ever find the energy and perspective to love. I have had one job in particular that had a wonderful environment among coworkers,but the job got to the point where it was too emotionally-consuming for me to begin to express that. And maybe for some people, who got less emotionally involved and were less apt to being overwhelmed than I, this would be a great place for them to be. And true, I did learn a lot from that job, but I also felt like I lost a lot of myself in it too; I formed habits of ignoring my own rights and feelings, spent a lot of time defending a system that I do not agree with and it is because of experiences like those that I am more selective. Maybe I have this sense that I should be more selective for the sake of my own mental and emotional health-- choosing not to put myself in unhealthy situations.
I think your point about being a good steward is important and freeing: it is so easy to fall into line as a martyr, saying that we are doing what we are doing because we have no other choice, but maybe that is an excuse not to do the hard work of waiting and really pursuing what we know we are best for and what is best for us. I think there can be times when we are able to walk into times of suffering and hardship and learn from them, but they cannot be places where we have given over the control to someone else out of self-pity of self-doubt-- we must make the active choice to learn. And sometimes the greatest point of learning is when we are able to recognize that we were created for something better than this and walk away, regardless of the sacrifice or hardship that might come from even that. The hard lesson that I find myself learning time and again is my need to say no to things that are not life-giving, regardless of how secure they feel.
Thank you for your encouragement-- keep reminding me to truly seek the things that matter!
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