My Favourite Four Letter Word

Monday was Labour Day here in Canada. This, combined with a week of energetically re-arranging and cleaning my apartment and a recent retreat filled with intense studying and writing, got me thinking about work- about how much I love to work, how meaningful work (along with intimate relationships) is important to a sense of well-being, how work is often vilified, depicted as something we would eradicate from our lives if we had the resources to hire others to do it.

One of the great gifts of having had a chronic illness for many years, is that I truly appreciate the times when I am able to work. I am aware of the satisfaction I feel from being able to move furniture, the “good tired” I get from using feeling/intuitive/mental abilities to write or work with a client. Doing work that makes us stretch just a smidge beyond what comes without any effort at all, can feel invigorating.

I am thinking here of work in the broadest possible way- as focused effort expended in a particular direction. Could be paid or unpaid, inner or outer, something we love doing or something we do only because it has to be done or for some other end (like putting food on the table.) Could be creatively open-ended or. . . . not so much. There are only so many ways to wash the dishes, but even there we have choices about the quality of the attention we bring to the task, whether or not we really feel the warm, soapy water (and offer a small prayer of gratitued for hot running water,) whether or not we see the task as drudgery or an act of caring for ourselves or others.  

One of the most challenging things about aging is the diminishment of our ability to work as we once could. Still, if we don’t get caught in identifying with the quantity of accomplished work, but allow ourselves to enjoy the feeling of working at whatever level makes us stretch just a little (without hurtling ourselves over the cliff of “but I used to be able to . . .” ) the pleasure in work can still be ours.

Of course, the conditions of our work can make it easier or harder to find joy in the activity. If we are compelled by circumstances to work long hours, to do work that separates us from those we love for long periods, or to work in conditions that are unsustainable for our minds, bodies, hearts or spirits, finding joy in work can become difficult or impossible

Years ago, when I was encouraging a friend to seek the assistance of a skilled guide in order to deepen her understanding of and healing around a terribly abusive childhood, she responded with a plaintive wail, “But it’s so much work!”

"Well yes," I replied, “but work is not suffering. It’s just work.”

Now, this may make me the poster child for the protestant work ethic I was steeped in as a child, but it’s true: work doesn’t need to be suffering. Work can be just work, focused effort in a particular direction. Our beliefs about work can make it suffering. Even when work is challenging, how we do it can create a little ease and, sometimes, real joy. If we are willing to bring curiosity and mindfulness to our experience while actively creating meaning for ourselves from the tasks at hand, even the most mundane or challenging work can deepen our awareness and enrich our lives.

Which is why work is my favourite four letter word. 

(c) Oriah 2012