This morning, I am mulling over work. Hard work, hard physical labor.
Returning to the world of city bus travel has made me aware of a whole world of work that at times I have remained distanced from. Hearing other riders' conversations, seeing their fast food uniforms -- it is clear that many people are commuting to jobs that are physical and extraordinarily taxing. And there is the hard work of young mothers stepping onto the bus with one baby in a stroller, and one or two other children in tow. Never having had children of my own and being the age that I am, I am so exhausted by thinking of the work of parenthood that I nearly swoon. The hard work of the bus drivers...yikes! I don't know what is more challenging, the conditions on the road or inside the bus. At the store, seeing employees stocking shelves. At a sandwich shop, watching a single employee deal with multiple customers at once. Watching road crews and truck drivers doing their work. I am increasingly aware of the physical labor that keeps our current paradigm going.
My life fell between the cracks of so many work realities. I never quite fit in anywhere. Attending private school and college in the sixties and early seventies, I rode the final wave of girls and young women being educated simply for the sake of being educated -- and for the likely outcome of eventually marrying and being the intelligent wife of a successful man. In that scenario, there would have been little hard labor after the birth of children -- American automobiles and appliances (Schenectady being the home of GE), plus outside help with childcare and housework, would have left me free, say, to be a part-time organist or art teacher, had I wanted to do that. Jobs between college and marriage tended to involve the work of the mind -- teaching at a private school, say, or publishing.
Publishing was the route I took, briefly, before heading to Britain to use my brain in a more intensive way, pursuing a master's in chant/historical musicology. There is probably nothing more esoteric than Aquitanian neumes! The work I did on my thesis was grueling but almost entirely mental/intellectual. (Having said that, typing up 90 pages on a manual typewriter was "something else"!) For better or for worse, when you have an IQ well into the genius range, academia is the realm of work best suited to your skills. I mean, I hadn't stumbled upon quite the right academic discipline for me, but at that moment (1980), if I had been male and/or in the right academic discipline, I have no doubt that my future would have unfolded in that milieu.
But...instead...deep in college loan debt, I returned to the US and the publishing world. I considered the law, more brain work which (as the granddaughter of a pioneering Canadian woman lawyer) I would have excelled at, but I couldn't bear it being conflict-based. I suppose that is when things started to unravel, work-wise, as I tried to use art and spirituality talents, and support them with harder physical work (waitressing, retail, public school special ed). During the spell when I was an adjunct professor at a community college, I was closest to being in my work element, but my long automobile commute (involving ferry rides!) added hours on the road, and this was already an exceptionally low-paying job with no benefits. I simply could not get ahead.
In one post, I cannot possibly assess my lifetime relationship to work. Not losing heart or giving up was the "work". Living on little money, moving from place to place to try to find a better fit, even trying to put a spiritual spin on this odyssey -- that was the "work". I lifted relatively few boxes, paved no roads, drove no trucks, and built no bridges. My work created no children, property, investments, career accomplishments, or fame. Just some paintings, this blog, a rich life experience, and the most precious possession of all -- a measure of inner peace and wisdom. To the extent to which I know I owe my bare human survival to countless other people who physically labored far harder than I ever have, I honor them today. We've all tried our best to "be the best we can be", haven't we?
