Friday
May112007
on making a living
"Let us consider the way in which we spend our lives."
For the last few weeks, I've been pondering the best way to write about my working life. It's such a strange path that I've chosen to take, since I began paying my own bills over fifteen years ago. Although earning money and making a living is something we all must do, I think it is something that can be especially difficult for people who feel called, even pulled, toward a primarily creative existence.
It's so easy to lose our way when we forget our nature.
In WALDEN, Thoreau wrote that he went to the woods to confront the essentials of life; and, I think this is mostly true. But also, deep down, in a very practical way, I think he went to the woods because he wanted to have more time to write. He built his own cabin, cooked his own food, and eliminated as many expenses as he possibly could so that he could fulfill his calling. He was a born writer and philosopher with strong opinions. Rather than conforming to the world around him and softening his writing style to appeal to his contemporaries, he simply decided to be true to himself. You might say that writing, for Thoreau, was a spiritual exercise rooted in his own unique identity, an exercise he was unwilling to water down.
The more I learn about Thoreau, the more his life truly makes sense. Unlike Emerson, who was a charismatic, community-oriented public speaker, Thoreau was more introverted and tended to flounder socially. He was disillusioned with all inconsistencies - both personal and professional. And sadly, almost every attempt he made to marry his writing with his income failed. I think his thoughts often ran so deep that other, less spiritual, minds tended to be threatened by or lose interest in his writing.
It's unfortunate that making money seems to operate according to different, sometimes less genuine, rules. Being successful in business isn't always about being oneself; it's often more about fitting in. After all, the best business minds tend to focus their energies on their client's desires, and money is given in exchange for a service. Like politicians, businessmen and women seek to please. Business lunches are often more about image and flattery and less about serious discourse. And, even when the conversation is more serious in tone, it still may revolve around such superficial concerns.
"Superfluous wealth can buy superfluities only. Money is not required to buy one necessary of the soul," wrote Thoreau.
Sadly, it seems, that the more one values truth, the more one may become disillusioned in business. Our economy can ever so subtly put us in conflict with our higher selves. If we value honesty and truth above all else, the world so often seems soiled with deceit. We are bombarded with advertisements which try to convince us that we need so many things that we really don't. We are made to believe that we will be happier after buying a product which actually makes no difference to the health of our soul.
New clothes and cars can make us feel new only for a while; perhaps we only seek them when we are tired of ourselves. And, perhaps we are only tired of ourselves when we've stopped becomming who we are meant to become.
So, maybe as we live, we should be ever mindful of who we are and what we are called to do.
If I am a writer, to whom should I write? Should I write to people's souls? Or should I write to their egos? Should I write to please an editor or a publisher? Or should I write to please myself and other kindred spirits? And, when I'm working to make money, how should I make it?
Thoreau's solution to this last question was to simply be a "day-laborer." He worked just enough to pay his bills. And, he simplified his life as much as possible in order to pay the fewest.
Thus far, my approach has been a similar one, and although the simplicity of my life has never approached that of Thoreau's, I do have a similarly diverse resume' of employment. Among other things... I've worked as a waiter and a bartender. I've written an arts column for the local paper. I've worked briefly as a tutor and teacher. I've sold a few dozen pieces of artwork. I've been a textile printer and a book binder. I've cared for my friend's children. I've invested in and helped manage a small business. And, since I have sound organizational skills, I've also been known to help people clean and maintain their home. Perhaps those who have their thoughts in order keep their environment in order as well.
I think that my most recent and welcome realization is the knowledge that my personal worth has nothing to do with my financial worth. How much money I make has nothing to do with my ability to contribute to the world around me. Likewise, I've realized that the very people who may look down upon me or accuse me of being lazy are the very people it is healthiest for me to avoid. After all, someone who sees the world in such an obviously materialistic way has not yet learned how to look at themselves more deeply. Someone who builds himself up with externals must feel very empty inside.
It's funny how we can all see each other so differently, measuring each other in different ways. I often wonder how many people's values actually overlap. I also wonder why more people don't turn to spiritual concerns after they have satisfied their physical concerns. It seems strange to me that many people will continue making and spending money indefinately without asking themselves why, while I find it so much more enriching to slow down and appreciate the simple things in life. The color of the sky and clouds, the sound of the wind and trees, the touch of a loved one... none of these things cost money, and few of us appreciate them enough.
Maybe using our unique gifts and being true to ourselves are the most worthwhile achievements of all. And, maybe whether they are noticed by the people around us or not, our littlest, most hidden accomplishments actually become our crowning achievements.
Each day the sun rises and sets, and somewhere in between, I try to feel my way through. There always seems to be something small and beautiful to notice and appreciate, something patiently waiting to be discovered by determined yet gentle eyes.
For the last few weeks, I've been pondering the best way to write about my working life. It's such a strange path that I've chosen to take, since I began paying my own bills over fifteen years ago. Although earning money and making a living is something we all must do, I think it is something that can be especially difficult for people who feel called, even pulled, toward a primarily creative existence.
It's so easy to lose our way when we forget our nature.
In WALDEN, Thoreau wrote that he went to the woods to confront the essentials of life; and, I think this is mostly true. But also, deep down, in a very practical way, I think he went to the woods because he wanted to have more time to write. He built his own cabin, cooked his own food, and eliminated as many expenses as he possibly could so that he could fulfill his calling. He was a born writer and philosopher with strong opinions. Rather than conforming to the world around him and softening his writing style to appeal to his contemporaries, he simply decided to be true to himself. You might say that writing, for Thoreau, was a spiritual exercise rooted in his own unique identity, an exercise he was unwilling to water down.
The more I learn about Thoreau, the more his life truly makes sense. Unlike Emerson, who was a charismatic, community-oriented public speaker, Thoreau was more introverted and tended to flounder socially. He was disillusioned with all inconsistencies - both personal and professional. And sadly, almost every attempt he made to marry his writing with his income failed. I think his thoughts often ran so deep that other, less spiritual, minds tended to be threatened by or lose interest in his writing.
It's unfortunate that making money seems to operate according to different, sometimes less genuine, rules. Being successful in business isn't always about being oneself; it's often more about fitting in. After all, the best business minds tend to focus their energies on their client's desires, and money is given in exchange for a service. Like politicians, businessmen and women seek to please. Business lunches are often more about image and flattery and less about serious discourse. And, even when the conversation is more serious in tone, it still may revolve around such superficial concerns.
"Superfluous wealth can buy superfluities only. Money is not required to buy one necessary of the soul," wrote Thoreau.
Sadly, it seems, that the more one values truth, the more one may become disillusioned in business. Our economy can ever so subtly put us in conflict with our higher selves. If we value honesty and truth above all else, the world so often seems soiled with deceit. We are bombarded with advertisements which try to convince us that we need so many things that we really don't. We are made to believe that we will be happier after buying a product which actually makes no difference to the health of our soul.
New clothes and cars can make us feel new only for a while; perhaps we only seek them when we are tired of ourselves. And, perhaps we are only tired of ourselves when we've stopped becomming who we are meant to become.
So, maybe as we live, we should be ever mindful of who we are and what we are called to do.
If I am a writer, to whom should I write? Should I write to people's souls? Or should I write to their egos? Should I write to please an editor or a publisher? Or should I write to please myself and other kindred spirits? And, when I'm working to make money, how should I make it?
Thoreau's solution to this last question was to simply be a "day-laborer." He worked just enough to pay his bills. And, he simplified his life as much as possible in order to pay the fewest.
Thus far, my approach has been a similar one, and although the simplicity of my life has never approached that of Thoreau's, I do have a similarly diverse resume' of employment. Among other things... I've worked as a waiter and a bartender. I've written an arts column for the local paper. I've worked briefly as a tutor and teacher. I've sold a few dozen pieces of artwork. I've been a textile printer and a book binder. I've cared for my friend's children. I've invested in and helped manage a small business. And, since I have sound organizational skills, I've also been known to help people clean and maintain their home. Perhaps those who have their thoughts in order keep their environment in order as well.
I think that my most recent and welcome realization is the knowledge that my personal worth has nothing to do with my financial worth. How much money I make has nothing to do with my ability to contribute to the world around me. Likewise, I've realized that the very people who may look down upon me or accuse me of being lazy are the very people it is healthiest for me to avoid. After all, someone who sees the world in such an obviously materialistic way has not yet learned how to look at themselves more deeply. Someone who builds himself up with externals must feel very empty inside.
It's funny how we can all see each other so differently, measuring each other in different ways. I often wonder how many people's values actually overlap. I also wonder why more people don't turn to spiritual concerns after they have satisfied their physical concerns. It seems strange to me that many people will continue making and spending money indefinately without asking themselves why, while I find it so much more enriching to slow down and appreciate the simple things in life. The color of the sky and clouds, the sound of the wind and trees, the touch of a loved one... none of these things cost money, and few of us appreciate them enough.
Maybe using our unique gifts and being true to ourselves are the most worthwhile achievements of all. And, maybe whether they are noticed by the people around us or not, our littlest, most hidden accomplishments actually become our crowning achievements.
Each day the sun rises and sets, and somewhere in between, I try to feel my way through. There always seems to be something small and beautiful to notice and appreciate, something patiently waiting to be discovered by determined yet gentle eyes.