Labor of Love
“Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.”
-- Rumi
“You can only become truly accomplished at something you love. Don’t make money your goal. Instead pursue the things you love doing and then do them so well that people can’t take their eyes off of you.”
-- Maya Angelou
As we prepare to celebrate Labor Day in this year like no other, I have found myself thinking about the holiday differently. For many of us the perception of work has changed as we confront a new kind of insecurity with regards to how we provide for ourselves and our families. The performing arts industries face an unprecedented chapter in their histories as we begin a seventh month of shuttered stages, beloved restaurants have closed their doors for good, and there are countless others wondering how to pay next month’s rent. With all the anxiety that comes with the current state of labor in our home country and around the world, I thought I would instead focus this post on the beauty and purpose that work can add to our lives when we pursue what our heart truly desires.
I have often considered in the abstract what it would be like to stop performing for a living. At times I confess I have even fantasized about it when staring down a particularly challenging program! But when the abstract starts to have a taste of reality, fear sets in -- especially with regards to money and time. I feel unprepared to pivot, and I lose confidence in my ability to do anything besides playing the clarinet. I love music, and have worked incredibly hard to earn a living doing it. In the face of all this uncertainty however, this question of exploring other passions or opportunities to make money has become more and more pressing.
In my last blog post I made a commitment to follow through with opening an online storefront for my artwork. I don’t know if I would have felt as motivated to do this if the performing arts industry wasn’t in such dire straits, and pushing myself in this way has revealed things that I doubt I would have discovered in a state of relative comfort. Moving to monetize something that I had previously done as a beloved hobby has brought up many familiar fears and doubts, just dressed up in different clothing. The truth is, money feels like an anathema to the passion of creating from a deeply personal space. To put this reflection of your deepest and most vulnerable self on a public stage to have it’s value assessed by others is one of the hardest things to do in our modern age, and probably why so few of us pursue it.
I have heard parents say that the experience of witnessing a child discovering a passion is impossible to miss; that if you are not sure if one of your own is passionate about the violin, or dance, then they probably aren’t. My own daughter has tried many things, and done some of them quite well, but lately I have observed her tackle something with a light in her eyes and a fire in her soul. A couple of years ago she was introduced to the graphic novel genre by a close friend. Since then she has read her favorites literally dozens of times, and her love for this type of fiction has deeply influenced her writing and drawing styles. Seeing that there were examples of classics reimagined in the graphic novel format, she decided that she would use Astrid Lindgren’s Pippi Longstocking as her inspiration for her first book. For weeks she has redrawn Pippi, tweaking details so that her character reflects both the author’s description and her own evolving style. Seeing this in a child has made me hyper-aware of what the outside world gradually steals from our souls over time if we let it. She has, simultaneously, a complete lack of concept as to the talent and skill she already possesses for her young age, along with total confidence that this book will be published. I am envious of the freedom that comes with her innocence, and have tried to reconnect with a time in my own childhood when I felt this kind of joy and freedom in creation.
If we listen to what luminaries in their respective field say about this, it appears that the love of the work always precludes success and/or money. In my own journey with my artwork I have tried to pay attention to the emotions surrounding the work. I have learned that while I experience creative blocks, and the aforementioned fears and doubts, I also experience excitement, hope, and joy. Finishing a piece holds a concrete sense of satisfaction, and an intimate feeling of gratitude and celebration. If the piece is for another, I cherish the idea that it might deliver a sliver of joy or happiness to their surroundings. Whether any money at all is to be made from this endeavor is still a great unknown, but I take baby steps forward with my love of the work and desire for improvement as my fuel.
I believe that each of us has a pursuit of great joy and meaning written in a secret corner of our hearts, and that we were meant for a life of adventure, full of purpose. I realize that in this moment in time it may sound especially sanguine or naive to say such a thing, but the power lies in the statement’s boldness. Perhaps for many there is an immediate need for work that provides financial relief -- I am certainly not arguing against this being a priority! I am arguing that not one of us should let a true desire of our heart whither or die, but instead find some way to nurture it. Make time for it and allow hope to take root. Labor Day is symbolic of progress in our nation; a long and arduous battle for better working conditions, shorter work days, weekends, and vacation time. We can always make more progress, but let’s not take for granted the advancements afforded us by the victories of the past.
I hope that your Labor Day is restful and restorative, and that you may find a moment to honor the hard work you have done in your own life. I hope that if this time feels like an ending to you that it may also feel like a beginning -- that hope and love may win out over anxiety and fear.