My apprehensions about writing this were annihilated immediately when the signs of all signs solidified that this needed to be said.Let me suggest one thing: write. even, and especially when you’re afraid to.
This is an open letter to the working class. I began working right after college. I majored in journalism then ended up on the road travelling and speaking for non profits, always somehow finding myself working in music, PR, activism, etc. These things, however far off the map [geographically, spiritually, rationally] they made sense to me. Every morning was the promise of an attainable goal. I was barely getting paid so I knew this would be training wheels for my eventual real life. But I could shake this feeling, this paralysing feeling that I had no idea what I wanted to do, or could do once I was done. I noticed the physical need for more amounts of coffee to keep my attention, and woke every morning begrudgingly and unrested. These were the premature signs of my war against modern work.
There are certain, very obvious anchors that you require in life to be able to have it make sense. Go to school, get a job, start that lifetime pursuit of acquiring stuff, start a family [accidentally, or intentionally], and spend the rest of your life acquiring more stuff, status, other external ways to satiate the insatiable and elusive: happiness.
But what if you already know how the story ends, before you start it? What I mean is that I’ve always known that money, beyond the threshold of survival, is a strange and funny pursuit. I mean, I get it. But would I spend a lifetime chasing it? Likely not.
I’ve always been employed so life without a job, or what is better translated: purpose, was really hard to conceptualize. In fact, it is downright miserable if I sit with my own self-defeating thoughts long enough. I have spent the better part of the passed few weeks: unemployed. [whew! there.. said it] okay, so I freelance write here and there, but under the finite box of what constitutes work, I’m a non-contributing social parasite. It’s true! And no matter how generally awesome, insightful, curious, compassionate, and accredited I may be, the external world, due to whatever circumstance [the economy, my canadian-ness, plain bad luck] has yet to accept me into the hyper-glorified, always prestigious, world of work.
At 23 years, I would much rather ‘live’ than ‘make a’ living.
Who better to answer that question than Charles A. Reich, author of my favorite book: The Greening of America. (This is not an essay on a pseudo-anarchist book, it’s the unrest in my heart that I’d like to share with you) I wish that this book were required reading in schools. Reich wrote with eloquence about the youth revolution of the seventies, at the time, he was on the cusp of what he thought would change the American consciousness. It however, tapered off into it’s own niche cultures from the beatnicks to the punks. But more or less, conformity reigned. The revolution: left unfinished.
Besides the fact that we’ve been so systematically stripped of our own history, our identity, then had it fed back to us in the form of consumerism and meaningless work (I could write pages about this) There is a horrifying and reckless divorce from truth, that we no longer know what we want, or who we are. We solve this feeling of inherent inadequacy with, dun dun dunn: the job. But what is a job, and what good is it if you’re hopelessly miserable. You’ll eventually remedy this by buying more stuff you don’t need, leaving you more dependent on your job than ever. Mortgage? Car payments? Clothing? Your dependence is entirely reflective of the lifestyle you must lead to keep up with the demand.
If I could, I would read Reich’s words verbatim, however brevity is beautiful (if you are still with me, I thank you) But I will share this one paragraph:
“Unsympathetic observers of the new generation frequently say that one of it’s prime characteristics is an aversion to work. The observers are prevented, by their disapproving, puritanical outlook, from understanding the real significance of what they see. The attitude of Consciousness III toward career is indeed based on the belief that most work available in our society is meaningless, degrading, and inconsistent with self-realization. The new generation is not “lazy”, and it is glad enough to put great effort into any work that is worthwhile…But they see industrialized work as one of the chief means by which minds and feelings of people are dominated by the Corporate State. Consciousness III regards freedom from such work, making possible the development of an individual’s true potential as a human being, to be among the greatest and most vital forms of liberation”
-The Greening of America. Charles A. Reich
Man.. this book is swimming with brilliant, explosive, radical sentiments that really just speak of simple, universal truths. Written years ago, it is now more relevant than ever. It possesses the timelessness of Thoreau, Whitman and Howard Zinn. There’s a reason why this literature stirs my soul. Something is desperately wrong with the modern machine, and we are all operating so illogically. Sometimes I wonder whether anyone is even awake.
We need to redefine work. We need to obliterate our safe, routine apathy. We need a resurgence of joy, without the facade of religion, wealth, sex, status, food. We need to stop judging or assuming that we know and understand the plight of the poor. Even the voluntary poor. They possess a secret joy unknown to the working class. It is the sweet rebellion, the power to live without.
I’m only 23. I don’t have a thing figured out. But I’ve learned more in my time and pursuit of work than I could have ever imagined. And with your great concerns of how I’ve ‘spent’ my time. I’ve spent it wisely, much like my modest budget. I don’t buy things I don’t absolutely need. I buy consciously. I don’t spend time that I can’t afford to waste, but I indulge and pour into my beloved and holy friends. [Ask me sometime, I will tell you all about the most remarkable humans that walk this earth, they are called: my friends] I’ve lived in a handful of cities. I’ve tasted the nectar of heartache and what art it can produce, and the stunning rays of joy all at once.
There is a glorious and unexamined pocket of rest and revival you are welcome to slide your hands into at any time. We are bound to nothing and completely free. You are entirely and wonderfully free. Imagine the possibility of living life on your own terms, without enslavement, liberated from the race to nowhere. I don’t know what that may look like for you, but I can promise you that work does not have to be your unfortunate and tedious fate. It’s only your life.
