In a couple of days I will have been unemployeed for three months. While I haven’t thought about my old job very much, I have thought some about work in the abstract. Work seems to be part of the fabric of our lives.
- We go to school to learn the skills we’ll need to get a job
- We go in search of a job
- We get a job
- We change jobs
- We sometimes lose a job
- We retire from a job (if we are fortunate)
I’ve always taken it as a given that we are supposed to work. To be productive. Not just to put beans on the table but because work is part of the Grand Scheme of Things. People with meaningful work are happier, I’ve been led to believe.
I’ve got less than 100 days of not working under my belt but I’m starting to question how existentially critical work is. Perhaps it’s a concept that was started by someone that needed to keep those factory jobs filled.
For many years I bought into the notion that Work was essential in providing meaning to our lives. These days, I’m not so sure.