In the Bleak Midwinter
My conversations of late seem to wander into the realm of the hypothetical “dream job” more than any other. You know the one. “If money were no option…” “In an ideal world…” Do what you love and love what you do. Don’t be a cog in the Marxist machine and all that jazz.
Growing up, I felt I had been born into the wrong century. While I remain thankful for indoor plumbing, I envision a world where vocation was fostered through mentors and apprenticeship. So much more than this provincial life. Maybe it’s an artist’s longing. I know we need infrastructure for a society to run…and, practically, we can’t all grow up be artists living on the beach painting sunsets in watercolor. [Hélas]
Still the longing remains to trade out success for significance. Easier said than done in a world where cash is king. But some days I think about what the world would look like if people chose their jobs solely based on their gifts and a sense of calling. A world where simplicity was a mass cultural value. Perhaps these are only symptoms though. If you believe that this is all there is—“this” being our short time on earth to acquire and enjoy our earthly possessions—simplicity for the sake of simplicity seems counter-intuitive. If we do not have a fundamental purpose etched into our very being, into the foundation of this world, what’s the point?