The Future of Work [3]
Opus Vitae
Let us muse for a moment on the concept of work as in “after work drinks” promoted by trendy bars at the ground floors of office buildings: during the “happy hour” you have a drink (or two) with colleagues (whom you hopefully like) to celebrate the wrapping up of the day, then you go home to your family unit for dinner and/or a brief episode of evening pastimes, then it’s time for bed, onto another day.
If the “happy hour” starts from 15, then it is the time before 15 that makes it happy. When there is no longer the structured pressure of a job or school, one could sleep till the early afternoon, start drinking beer right away, and watch sitcoms on Netflix for hours on end until stupor sets it.
That is not happy. That is doom.
We now live in a time when a few of us are lucky enough to think beyond subsistence — even Faulkner had to shovel coal at a power plant. But anyway, if you work in tech, fortunately or the opposite, your main problem is not how to cover this month’s bills, but how to fill up the day in a way the future you will approve of.
Filling a day with random acts of exploration and novelty-seeking is easy to implement. When I listen to a podcast on learning new technologies or read a Wikipedia article on “mise-en-scene”, there’s always a spark of stimulation in discovering some new topics or ideas. You could listen to audiobooks, watch documentaries, attend seminars, go to social events — but after all the dust settles, to where does all this activeness lead?
Therefore, I’ve been thinking “redemptive qualities” of work. “Work”, not as a source of income, but as a source of pride (a life-affirming sense that your goals and efforts have been worthwhile), not for livelihood, but for living.
It means “works” in the sense of a project of significance to which you dedicate a large chunk of life, your waking hours, and the prime of your energy and thought, a pilgrimage, a long, arduous journey through the hopeless desolate desert powered only by hope of deliverance, of salvation, of the promised land.
The productive life is an integral dimension of human flourishing. We suffer psychologically when the yearning for creative expression is frustrated. We suffer in the absence of meaningful work, even when we are materially well taken care of. Beer and Netflix all day is oblivion.
Those who went to the lab (picture included in this article for metaphorical illustration) have chosen work over this oblivion, over the (often strong) appeal of morning slumber, of snoozing evermore into non-consequence.
“Granted, that slumber is comforting” — Marcus Aurelius admonished — “but is indulging in ‘feeling like it’ what you are on this Earth for?” There are so many things we have little control over, including falling asleep, but one thing we do have control over is to get out of bed.
Those who have produced something great do have amazing networks — but then as Adam Grant the organisational psychologist pointed out, they built such networks through having done amazing work early on.
Perhaps you produce great work faster by working than by senseless schmoozing and wishing to land on great luck. Phillip Rosendale didn’t solicit great people to work on virtual worlds, he started working on virtual worlds first, then great people came to him.
This long journey is about finding one’s “station in life” and a sense of grounding, through expertise and craftsmanship. Look not for passion — as Cal Newport would say— find something of value and get excited about it.
It’s also important to consider whether that value is marketable and captured — one must answer the Silver Question. The “projects” should not be an intermittent burst of whims. Steven LaValle did very well, whereas van Gogh, Marx, Tesla all died in penniless misery.
Link to previous post: [ Part 2 ]
