Coming from a procrastinator, the title is inappropriate. However, no religion, no faith, no support works a miracle as good as this. From battles to brothels, from cures to characters -- work is workship. And I do not mean 'come, let us become workaholics!' All I assert is lets please love our work, however much we hate it, for that bit when we have committed ourselves to it. It works.
And, no work, really, is ever big or small. Coming from a family which has major highs and even more major lows, the necessity and ability to sleep without food one day, and lavish at a five-star on another, is a kick. My family doesn't understand education. As in, degrees. All they know and encourage is passion -- be it art, or business, or failure. They always give you a chance. Those who work on it, will agree, it works. My family also understands two other values -- simplicity and gratitude. Without a doubt, even if my parents do not leave me a penny or a property, I will be proud to have inherited their characteristic warmth and hospitality. Their flaws and their attempts to work on the flaws. That works too.
After three decades, I am finally friends with my parents. And it does not certainly mean pally-pally friends, but it defines an engagement in which decisions are mutually arrived at. It defines an ease that they give me because they are non-interfering, even though I live in their house. And it scares me that they are gradually becoming over dependent on me. Where does it all fit with work, you must be wondering. I am too. It does actually. These are the ladder rungs one which each little step, cautiously takes you higher. And since you are grounded, your fall -- which is definite -- is one from which you can bounce back. I do not know if I am making sense. All I know is, if you are welcoming a guest to your house, give them your best smile. If the garbage man has collected the garbage, thank him.
And work, bloody hell, keeps the demons away. Build your world of work. Mine is this white page, each day. It is nothing short of work, if this is what I do to keep living. Teaching is my means. And a noble work. Having tried all shortcuts, I can safely say, while some work, most don't. Just work. Mine is done.
What's yours?
And, no work, really, is ever big or small. Coming from a family which has major highs and even more major lows, the necessity and ability to sleep without food one day, and lavish at a five-star on another, is a kick. My family doesn't understand education. As in, degrees. All they know and encourage is passion -- be it art, or business, or failure. They always give you a chance. Those who work on it, will agree, it works. My family also understands two other values -- simplicity and gratitude. Without a doubt, even if my parents do not leave me a penny or a property, I will be proud to have inherited their characteristic warmth and hospitality. Their flaws and their attempts to work on the flaws. That works too.
After three decades, I am finally friends with my parents. And it does not certainly mean pally-pally friends, but it defines an engagement in which decisions are mutually arrived at. It defines an ease that they give me because they are non-interfering, even though I live in their house. And it scares me that they are gradually becoming over dependent on me. Where does it all fit with work, you must be wondering. I am too. It does actually. These are the ladder rungs one which each little step, cautiously takes you higher. And since you are grounded, your fall -- which is definite -- is one from which you can bounce back. I do not know if I am making sense. All I know is, if you are welcoming a guest to your house, give them your best smile. If the garbage man has collected the garbage, thank him.
And work, bloody hell, keeps the demons away. Build your world of work. Mine is this white page, each day. It is nothing short of work, if this is what I do to keep living. Teaching is my means. And a noble work. Having tried all shortcuts, I can safely say, while some work, most don't. Just work. Mine is done.
What's yours?
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