Work is a reason to wake up in the morning
I’d like to say the reason I wake up every day with a purpose to work is both accurate and far from a greater truth. The truth is I do not necessarily find joy in my work sometimes. When I speak of such work, I speak of the vocation of writing to which I dedicate my life. Admittedly, I have chosen a difficult life ahead of me by taking on the gargantuan task of writing. I also cannot say I write as a profession either, that entails pay that can support your needs to survive. I speak of writing as work as I undertake as a task, both out of duty and out of what I consider my life’s purpose, my raison d’être, or reason for being if you will.
When I can give life to my stories and fully realize myself through them, those are the moments I find true joy and fulfillment in my writing. Having said that, I have yet to find my ultimate ikigai, which is what I desperately seek, a balance in order to sustain my quest. What I hope to achieve in this lifetime is to collectively bridge universal understanding, through what I like to call my own theory of everything. In short, it combines the theory of relativity with philosophical reasoning and storytelling to illustrate our commonality. See I told you it was a gargantuan task, hence why at times I derive no joy from writing, but purpose serves just as well as pleasure. And though, my writing pays little to nothing, I write because I enjoy it sometimes but mainly because it’s my purpose too. It encompasses the greatest aspects of me, my most thoughtful nature, and my greatest virtues — that generate ideas that could serve to benefit those around me. Considering I do not believe in an afterlife, or fate, I know I made a conscious decision to write, having never felt that I was born to write.
Mark Twain once said,
“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”
My memory does not serve me well as to the moment I began to write, but the moment I picked up any form of expression through a medium, is when I realized its power and ability to convey my emotions and thoughts, and with it a way to cultivate the most thoughtful aspects of myself and others to be shared.
Between thought and expression
We often herald thought as the principal avenue to guide us in the sensibility of the choices we make. With the same mindset, we can understand that it is through writing that we can bridge thoughtful action and sentiment to further aid in the improvement of our situation. Personally, there exists nothing more prescient than the thoughts that exist in the act of writing, whether fiction or non-fiction. In no other form has the excellence of thought and expression been delved and explored further, given the arduous time expended on it. Sometimes it amazes me, that with thought, we can control forces and shape our lives further than anything else in this universe. It never ceases to amaze me, the power of thought and how far it can go to transform and help us make sense of our disposition.
I recall one day when exploring my father’s library, stumbling across a quote my father had once scribbled, in what must have been a Rousseau book;
“Thought and action are inseparable” — my father inscribed (and perhaps thought of by many other notable philosophers in history.)
Perhaps he was suggesting we must bear responsibility for our actions or thoughts lead to action. I’ve debated myself over the quote, as much as I have admired the observation. For me, action is akin to the physical expressions of thought. But the issue is, mental faculties, require more reason beyond our actions. After all, we may just be a slave to our desires, which we act out physically without any real thought. However, the thought stayed with me in regards to thinking about our responsibility and owning our actions, and perhaps even the duty to understand our thoughts before it becomes an act of irreparable consequence.
A rolling stone gathers no moss
Just as well, writing is not always the first priority in life, naturally, I must eat, drink, sleep, play and rest before I even consider putting pen to paper (figuratively, I’m a millennial). When you enter a vocation like writing, you have to enjoy some aspects of it or find some reward out of it, for most of the time it’s sleepless nights, heaps of procrastination, and lack of motivation. Not forgetting the daunting acceptance of never finding success, recognition, not even a mention, or having your work being read. Then the presence of limited time begins to daunt you, even more, making you re-assess if you made the right choice in life — especially if there were other ways to make a difference!
Sometimes I use my age or the limited time to spur me to into writing but sneaking motivation through reminders of my age got strangely serious when I approached the age of 27 and compared myself to Kurt Cobain’s accomplishments. But how was I going to be a generation-defining artist at that point in my life? Contrary to my younger self, I always had the notion that I would have been satisfied having just done something amazing at least once and happily go out in a bang. It’s no wonder passing through the romanticized 27-club featuring some greats and personal heroes and makes you compare yourself to their personal achievements. After all, I believe a part of us wants to be immortalized or at least hoped that our words could live on - so that we would have mattered or meant something in the grand scheme of things.
However, after turning 28, I was just grateful to have escaped the 27 club, yet still disappointed in my progress. Even worse, when I turned 28, I came to compare myself to Albert Camus, when I found out he had come to write ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’ or thought of it way before he had come to publish it at that tender age. Initially, I thought I had time to catch up to him, after reading it years before I was that age. And I was enamored for a reason to match his accomplishment. He posed a question that would go on to jump-start or even define the boundaries of my work.
“There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.” — Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus.
With the ‘Myth of Sisyphus’, Camus entered the upper echelons of philosophical thought, or so I thought. By brilliantly heralding the task of trudging through life at attempts to reconcile, enjoy and make meaning out of it when it seemed pointless, was a statement for the ages. I know he was not the first to think it but it was the way he articulated it that stood out to me.
Perhaps it’s not the greatest idea to compare my progress with one of the greats but it certainly does make for great motivation especially as I enter a territory of something I feel Camus would be proud of yet at the same time feeling frustrating at the distance to arriving at the desired destination, in time. But then I am reminded of the title character of his book, Sisyphus, and I find consolation in the struggle to obtain purpose in such an absurd world. It’s a wonder at all to even have that opportunity to be here and change one’s circumstances. So, with each day gained, is another opportunity to continue on.
In no way do I envy Sisyphus as much as I can relate to his predicament. But much admiration must be bestowed upon his actions. We should choose life and go on. The real tragedy would be shuffling off our mortal coil, with burden there is an opportunity to reconcile. Like Sisyphus, I am grateful to be in the position to continually push the boulder in spite of life’s circumstances, there’s meaning in that. It’s also another chance to create something of meaning, in this case, my life’s work coming from my writing. Which I have reasoned, can make a difference in the lives of other people.
Though my hopes of being immortalized at a certain age are dashed with each milestone I reach, I continually think of the arduous task of work, when I think of those who have a long journey towards their achievements. Any form of work is worth the struggle. Especially if it brings us closer to what we want to achieve. Sometimes it really is all about the act and the journey. Perhaps even the sum of our lives may be a greater measure than that of individual moments or creations. So, I am grateful either way with inspiration, and renewed spirit when I find myself at a similar point in life with one of my literary/philosophy heroes, Albert Camus. But knowing I have the time and the insights, gave me an extra boost. It gives me more reason to keep going, to even explore what he did not have the chance to.
And unlike Sisyphus, I desire to be the rolling stone that gathers everything in its path, through an accumulation of knowledge and experience, and insight. I only hope to continue doing what I love, making sense of the world in search of a way to elucidate on matters of importance. By working, I hope to be fortunate enough to produce a masterpiece like ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’. That will certainly satisfy me. But that desire is dangerous as it is enticing.
A noble path
Now that I approach 29, I added a new milestone to aspire to. In light of my desire to make a mark with my writing, which I know will only bring me suffering, yet in some twisted form of rationalization, I find it to be a noble task to desire such a way to gain enlightenment if it means contributing to the dutiful task to document, reason, and explore.
And though I draw inspiration from those who have reached near unattainable status in thought, I found solitude in the fact that one of the greatest minds and spiritual leaders this world has ever known had only come to make his first steps or forays into greatness at the age of 29, Siddhartha Gautama. Perhaps the person who would go on to become the Buddha knew he was on a mission. He had to make a sacrifice, it was at age 29 that he left behind everything, his material possession, his wife and child, and his luxurious life. But he was true to himself, that was the most admirable.
That level of sacrifice is how I should approach my work. To truly work is to sacrifice. Though I find that balance between detachment and doing good is almost impossible. After all, I have bills to pay. I was not in the position to preach for a living.
In the strange fashion of life imitating art (well life in this case) my life began to mirror his to some extent where I came to abandon my attachments, such as emphasis on vanity and material things. By deciding to dedicate my life to writing and the search for the universal, I had to surmount more time and energy, which meant putting distance between my past life, all with the purpose to grow and explore without limitations.
As a writer, I would say I relate most to the themes and questions posed by these two giants of very different times. But I have the benefit of influences beyond them. With sheer will and perhaps out of duty I want to get the better on them, not for any other reason than to further elucidate on truth and betterment.
Work entails meaning and purpose
The nature of living dictates that we require work to function, live and grow. I’ve often thought of working as a great sign of character, even if it may be out of necessity. Undertaking the task of working entails strength, determination, and perseverance, all virtues in themselves. A greater virtue derives from it, a sense of duty. If I can speak for other writers, I know we want to tell our stories, to make sense of ourselves and the world, to explore issues that affect us, to illuminate ways to pave our futures. There are multitudes of reasons to write. I want to do all those things, but I am coming to understand that we do this not just out of enjoyment and fulfillment, but it's as natural as the sense of duty to work.
When I asked my father what was the greatest virtue, he said it was duty, he considered it to be the noblest. It’s the virtue that is least likely to falter or break down. It even made the world go around. If that were not enough, my other hero, Martin Luther King gives more light to the beneficial nature of work;
“All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence” — MLK
If I can equate writing to the important task of improving conditions, then I suppose silence really is complicit in allowing the status quo to go on. If it were not evident enough. I draw on other giants of other fields like Newton with my own take, to stress the importance of my work and writing. His third law of motion of reciprocity suggests that forces of action undertaken creates an equal force of reaction.
With that logic, without work, or any force exerted on any object, there would be no action and no change right? So in order to change things, we must work. I hope it is as simple enough as that, that work changes things. Either way, however hard we have to work to create change, we know it to be the right thing — to put the effort in goes a long way. And as I write this, I wonder if writing is dutiful itself by giving thought and expression to those who never had the chance, or are voiceless. Writing above all like work should be a conscious effort, not undertaking tasks like mindless drones in order to achieve a goal set by other people. The beauty of writing and working outside those parameters is the freedom to even discuss our drone-like mentality and behaviors that lead us to become drones, or worse off allowing other drones (human or machine) mindlessly destroy the living and the good.
Speaking of good, Immanuel Kant, another notable thinker known for his logic of duty as a moral maxim suggests that we should do the right thing, not out of gratification or reward but because it was right, simply put; we must give reason to it. Just like those who believe in the dharma, we must uphold truths or laws because it was dutiful. Arguably, if we upheld truth and ethics out of karma, it still benefits the self and everybody else around us. So maybe duty is a good enough reason?
Whether it is duty or guilt that should inspire me to write, I know that the physical act of doing so, regardless of sentiment or its potential to change already transforms me. Though I don’t claim to have the solutions to institute change, like every writer I must have some form of self-belief. I know that by writing/working, I work towards encompassing something greater in my efforts. Like with my writing, I make a case for wisdom. Not that original of course, but the more insight we can contribute, the more avenues we have for reaching the universal. Hence, I believe writing with thought and purpose to be a virtuous thing.
What you are willing to die for will tell you what you live for?
What my writing teaches about myself is that doing what we do can make us who we are. That poses questions about our identity and our work. What I do know is that with what I write and aim to do, I hope to be part of a greater chain, simply by doing my part with thoughtfulness and attention. Having said that, I thought more about it and I needed to recognize my way of being and thinking was heavily affected by the existence of John Lennon, Buddha, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Joe Strummer, Confucius, Albert Camus, Bruce Lee, Isaac Newton, Rachel Carson. I think about love, wisdom, peace, hope, justice, protest, sincerity, fervor, curiosity, passion, improvement. The beauty of it all was the power to transcend and enrich. It amazed me that neither one of those heroes of mine are still alive, yet their impact is strongly felt across the world still to this day. I wondered how I myself could continue on this passage of deliverance and above all things, what these inspirations do for us. It reminds us of how sacred life is and for the most part how good can become of the universal. We only have to dream or imagine. Though it scared me that with time we forget, and we mustn’t. The future is depended on our thoughts regarding it.
For that reason, when I find myself complacent in my work or struggling to write and create, I draw strength upon the thoughts and actions of those who inspire me. To truly make your mark and to make a change, requires the sacrifice of the highest order. The will to power of gaining the strength to overcome can be motivating enough too. Add that with the thought of injustices that make your blood boil should alone drive us to not be silent. Or if we believe enough in the task of correcting wrongs or just doing the right thing, then you can find extra life in writing - I know that ultimately fulfills me. In fact with the act of writing, for such a noble task with life-changing abilities, the fact that you could do it in the comfort of your home makes it quite magical if I think about it, I know I cannot take that for granted.
If ever, I still have any doubts about my reason to write, I just remember that if any aspect of the love I appreciate for this world and the actions that have graced us were to ever survive, I must continue to shed light and soldier on. For I know that if there exists a multitude of reasons to write, there are also multitudes of possibilities that can exist with the power of our words to change and illuminate a multitude of paths.
Thinking back to Sisyphus, should we imagine him happy? In spite of the consolation that we can continue our quest, it was not as simple as achieving a simple act of persevering. The moral of the story that we do not talk about is the acceptance that Sisyphus had no choice in the matter. He was subjected to torment that he could not escape. If Sisyphus was to overcome, he must escape his predicament entirely. Let's think about that as we go forward. The ultimate goal of writing is to give voice, story, affirmation, and belief even - that anything is possible, even change. That's another reason to ‘not falter in our duty, as James Baldwin eloquently suggests. As with our writing, we must go beyond telling our stories or simply expressing how we feel, we must tie it to our quest of a grander effort to rectify wrongs and establish a blueprint for the future we want to live, hell even continue to work in, after all, what the hell are we working for, if not to improve and survive? I suppose if we can begin to embody Sisyphus in some form, with whatever we choose to do in this life, that would be a start. It would be a testament to the importance and virtue of effort and work in spite of how dire the situation appears.
So even if the prospect of our work or in this case our writing may not eventuate into what we hoped, let's remember that after all, the universe will eventually die in a heat death and everything will be reach equilibrium. It would have all been for nothing. So with that said, why not try? What’s the worse that can happen with trying, with writing, with struggling? Or even changing things for the better, even if it was for just for a moment. A moment is a lifetime for many. And we’re running out of time with each moment of inaction. So let's strive to be better, with our thoughts, our actions and for us writers, our words. It could be the difference in forging the world we had hoped and dreamed of, and it could very well be the ultimate difference in the journey of all our paths.
So, for as long as I can keep working and writing, that is my reason for being, and if I can offer hope for betterment, then even better. By the grips of my will and in order to survive and prosper as an individual, and as a living being in the universe, I must thrive and spread the seeds for the future by writing and illuminating. After all, it’s my duty, to keep going and to keep writing, regardless of what may come of it, and doing it all within reason of course.
