ISSUE #10: The Art of Labour
Woohoo! Here we are with our 10th issue! We’ve actually kept up with five months of exploration, and this does feel like a momentous event.
The seemingly simple act of keeping up with a practice that does not qualify as “work” or “job” in the eyes of modern man is not one to be taken for granted. Hence, we’re both really pleased and grateful to reach this point. Thank you for sticking through with us.
Here’s this issue’s topic: LABOUR.
Article // Labour, So You Might Live
Daryl takes a stab at the modern perception of job and labour, and how meaning plays a role in that.Article // An Exploratory Labour
Rosslyn explores her relationship to labour and what meaningful labour entails.Food for Thought // The Need for Meaning
Resources // Tips for Inquiry.
Warmly,
Rosslyn & Daryl
ARTICLE // by Daryl
Labour, so you might live
“Find a job you love and you’ll never work another day in your life.”
The aforementioned line irks me. Not only does it present us with an illusion but it generates an unhealthy attitude towards work or, more precisely, labour. Now, the person who conceived of that line probably had the best intentions initially by encouraging everyone to pursue their passion instead of succumbing to the daily grind of capitalism. But that’s just the problem, isn’t it? Somehow, the modern machinery of capitalism has alienated us from our labour to the extent that we recoil in horror whenever work of any sort is mentioned. We plug away at our jobs day and night for organizations we feel nothing for just to ease into the weekend when we are free from the shackles of our jobs. But just barely. Come Monday, the cycle repeats itself ad nauseam and we look to another weekend…and another weekend…and another weekend…and before we know it, we’re 80 years old and counting down.
Somehow, the line between jobs and work/labour became so blurred that we fail to distinguish them. Jobs we have no love for dominated and usurped our original healthy understanding of labour as something meaningful. Now, any form of exertion is perceived as something painful to be avoided at all costs. We feed ourselves the delusion that if only work is like play, then we will wake up everyday with a spring in our step. The reality is anything but. Why else, then, would social media platforms like Instagram be flooded with a deluge of gastronomic pornography? Those weekend indulgences are placebos undertaken with the intention of numbing the unbearable pain of labour we’ve come to loathe.
But work and labour are unavoidable in life. What we need to do is to restore the healthy understanding of labour, and that includes reinstating the notions that pain is not necessarily bad, and pleasure is not necessarily good. In other words, pain and pleasure should not be the criteria with which we assess labour. On the contrary, labour ought to be assessed according to how meaningful it is to us. When labour is meaningful, pain becomes a secondary concern.
What do I mean? Well, for instance, when I’m writing a paper on a topic that means a lot to me, it doesn’t mean the process isn’t painful. On the contrary, because I was so invested in the topic, I went above and beyond what was necessary for the requirements of the paper. As I dove deeper down the rabbit hole, I began to see more issues and implications that became more and more difficult to resolve. Thinking does hurt but that doesn’t mean it’s burdensome. On the contrary, the sheer difficulty of these interesting problems captured my imagination further, and when I managed to gain some insight into these problems by the time I finished writing my paper, the sense of satisfaction I experienced was immense. The striving I had undergone bears testament to the utmost exercise of my mental faculties, my mental powers. Without that strain, it wasn’t obvious I had been sufficiently challenged. Without that strain, there was no proof I had surpassed myself.
And this satisfaction and meaning are manifestations of my being I had invested in my labour: my paper is an extension of my self, reified as an external object. As I contemplate the significance of my handiwork, I realize what I hold in my hands is a concrete re-presentation of what I stand for. My paper is a monument for the beliefs and principles I hold as I laboured over it. Someone else could not have written it because even if we had written on the same topic, the manner in which we crafted it would have been different. The form of the essay takes after my thought process, my concerns, and my emphases. What I deem important and crucial are distilled into this paper I’ve written.
True labour is never easy. But it is only through true labour that we gain the opportunity to transcend ourselves because it was only during the course of our striving that we had no choice but to invest our very being into it to illuminate what is most precious to us. Don’t find a job you love so you don’t have to work another day in your life. Find a job you love so you are inspired to work as if your life depended on it.
ARTICLE // by Rosslyn
An Exploratory Labour
In modern society, the word “labour” seems to carry negative connotations (as expressed in Daryl’s article.) It’s often associated with chores or activities that are physically or mentally strenuous, boring and burdensome. Yet, labour is such an essential part of human life. Why is it part of human life? What is labour? What do we labour for? These are some of the questions I had when I think about labour.
I find it difficult to believe that we humans are put on this world to live a life of chores. This is perhaps where my tendencies show up: the unwillingness to settle for a meaningless life leading me to explore and inquire into my relationships with various aspects of my life. And if eventually, there really is no meaning to anything, inquiry allows me to better understand myself and how I might inject meaning into my life.
A quick search online for the dictionary definitions of “labour” brought up a long list and I’ve highlighted two that fit within the context of my exploration.
to labour (vb.):
to exert one's powers of body or mind especially with painful or strenuous effort
to be in labour of giving birth
The first definition partially relates to the pains and strains commonly associated with labour. However, the part about the exertion of one’s powers is new to me and, I think, often overlooked.
Taking my creative liberties with it, what if I combine both definitions and view labour in terms of the powers I exercise and what it births? This new notion of labour gives it meaning.
Meaningful labour comes about when we exercise our powers to birth something.
Unlike work, which usually reaps “rewards” immediately due to its performative, productive nature, not all labours bear fruit immediately, some not at all. When labour is meaningful, we are more likely to follow through and grow from it. It also helps us recognize the efforts we’ve put in.
Take my upcoming book for example. Independent publishing has not been an easy journey. Countless hours went into arranging and editing the poems, formatting them, and designing the cover. With my previous narrow notion of labour, I was beating myself up for not doing enough work because these activities did not seem to produce tangible or substantial outcomes. Yet, all these activities were essential to the birthing of my book. Like in biological labour, the baby is out after nine months, but that doesn’t mean nothing got done in the 36 weeks.
Any creative endeavour is labour. Birthing is an act of creation, bringing forth something from nothing. And living is a constant creation of the self: shedding old ideas, taking on new ones, the constant shifting of our identities. There is no birthing without the injection of the Self. Whatever we birthed embodies our being. Our intentions and deliberations and qualities go into that which we create.
What then are the powers that enable us to create? What powers do my body and mind hold that I might have taken for granted? It is through labour, then, that I witness my powers.
I looked at writing, what enables me to write? The dexterity in my hand, the creativity, sense-making, interpretations of my mind, the support in my spine, my sight. There is so much that goes into putting pen to paper. Sitting up, lifting the pen, directing it on to the paper, and moving in a certain way to form the shapes in my head. I’m empowered by my body and mind to create new ideas and art.
When I acknowledge that which emerges from my efforts, I come to know my own power. When I witness what I birthed, I am in awe, like a child discovering her superpowers all over again. Have you seen how children react to discovering their ability to affect things? When they first kick a ball and it rolls, they chuckle; when they first discover their voice, they scream and squeal to explore what sounds they can make. Along the way, we get used to these superpowers and they became part of us, no longer something we have but what we are. As I slow down to notice the effects brought about by my interactions with the world around me, I’m astounded by how amazing we humans are. We are not all-powerful, but we are powerful.
This exploration of labour brings me to a place of appreciation and clarity, dispersing the fog of dread, opening new possibilities for me. The burden of the chore is lifted; I’m invited to reconsider my gifts and what I am willing to labour for. If labouring is a transfer of energy, of life force, to what do I want to gift my life? How might I labour such that my soul grows and is enriched through it?
I end my exploration with more questions than answers. But following Rilke’s words, I shall “live the questions now” and “love [them] like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue.”
Here, I close with a quote from the Bible which I stumbled upon. (p.s. I neither read the bible nor practice Christianity, but I appreciate the teachings.)
We continually remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labour prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.
—1 Thessalonians 1:3
Work faithfully, labour lovingly, rest in the arms of the universe, and this is a way of life.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
The Need for Meaning
The need for meaning is apparent in both Daryl’s and Rosslyn’s articles. They share similar beliefs on how meaning elevates human life, particularly so in the aspect of labour, which cannot be divorced from our lives.
Daryl believes that meaning is crucial in bringing about the commitment and willingness to labour. When labour is meaningful, he is able to bear the pains of labour, or perhaps, the pleasure that arises from the labour exceeds the pains.
Rosslyn uncovers that meaning for her comes from the act of creation, and the exertion of her powers. When we are aware of the powers we have and channel that towards birthing something, labour becomes worthwhile.
How about you, dear reader?
What is your relationship to labour?
What emotions or sensations arise in you when you think of labour?
If labour brings you feelings of displeasure, how might you shift your relationship with it? If it brings you feelings of pleasure, what enables that?
What needs to be? What needs to go?
RESOURCES
Tips for Inquiry
In many of our issues, we explored and discussed our relationships with various things. By examining the way in which we connect to an object, a concept, or a person, we can better understand our beliefs and behaviours.
Relationships shape how we view and inhabit our world. A common example, a person who ties his identity closely with work might define himself as his role, forgetting that he is larger than that. His family, friends, hobbies, likes/dislikes, and life experiences also define him.
When we change our relationship with something, it can either close or open possibility. Nothing is fixed, and everything can be examined. Any transformation process begins with examining our perceptions of the world we inhabit.
Start by inquiring:
What is X to me?
When we actually articulate what X is to us, we can begin to observe how this perception of X plays out in various aspects of our lives.
If you wish to go somewhere, start by knowing where you are.
A hundred times every day I remind myself
that my inner and outer life
depend on the labours of other men,
living and dead, and that I must exert myself
in order to give in the same measure
as I have received and am still receiving.—Albert Einstein, The World As I See It
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