What do you do?
(Day Forty-Seven)
I heard a story on the radio yesterday about how people open conversations in different parts of the country. In New York and LA it's the standard, "What do you do?," which is really, "What's your job?," which is really, "What's your socio-economic standing in society?" In Colorado it's the same question, but instead of answering, "I'm a lawyer," you answer, "I mountain climb and ski." And in New Orleans, the question is, "How's your mama?" Lol.
This brings up an interesting question -- when we define our identities by what we do for a living, how much of our real identity are we leaving out? Are our occupations really what define who we are? If you don't have a traditional 9-5, who are you?
My job takes up a big chunk of my time. That's partly because it's a demanding job and partly because I have let it take up a big chunk of my time. I think many of us define who we are by how we answer that "What do you do?" question, whether we're a parent or own our own business or work for the man. But if that wasn't there, who would we be? Who are we at the heart of ourselves, without defining ourselves in relation to someone or something else? Can you define yourself without doing it in relation to someone or something else?
I'm getting a little philosophical. But I've been thinking about this a lot as I've been trying to build out areas of my life other than work -- writing, photography, Olive & Clyde. And I'm missing that part of my life where "what I do" is NOTHING. Doing nothing is important. I'm serious. You need to be able to sit outside in the sun and let your mind wander, to clear your head so you notice the different green colors of the leaves and hear the sounds of the owl in the tree. That's how people get inspiration -- they quiet down their minds and they do NOTHING.
So do I want to be able to answer NOTHING when people ask me what I do? No. Or maybe yes.
I feel like I've probably mentioned this article on here before, but I'm going to do it again: "The Busy Trap" by Tim Kreider. He says,
"Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done."
So, okay, I don't want to just do nothing. But I want the option.
I heard a story on the radio yesterday about how people open conversations in different parts of the country. In New York and LA it's the standard, "What do you do?," which is really, "What's your job?," which is really, "What's your socio-economic standing in society?" In Colorado it's the same question, but instead of answering, "I'm a lawyer," you answer, "I mountain climb and ski." And in New Orleans, the question is, "How's your mama?" Lol.
This brings up an interesting question -- when we define our identities by what we do for a living, how much of our real identity are we leaving out? Are our occupations really what define who we are? If you don't have a traditional 9-5, who are you?
My job takes up a big chunk of my time. That's partly because it's a demanding job and partly because I have let it take up a big chunk of my time. I think many of us define who we are by how we answer that "What do you do?" question, whether we're a parent or own our own business or work for the man. But if that wasn't there, who would we be? Who are we at the heart of ourselves, without defining ourselves in relation to someone or something else? Can you define yourself without doing it in relation to someone or something else?
I'm getting a little philosophical. But I've been thinking about this a lot as I've been trying to build out areas of my life other than work -- writing, photography, Olive & Clyde. And I'm missing that part of my life where "what I do" is NOTHING. Doing nothing is important. I'm serious. You need to be able to sit outside in the sun and let your mind wander, to clear your head so you notice the different green colors of the leaves and hear the sounds of the owl in the tree. That's how people get inspiration -- they quiet down their minds and they do NOTHING.
So do I want to be able to answer NOTHING when people ask me what I do? No. Or maybe yes.
I feel like I've probably mentioned this article on here before, but I'm going to do it again: "The Busy Trap" by Tim Kreider. He says,
"Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets. The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done."
So, okay, I don't want to just do nothing. But I want the option.