What’s Right Livelihood Got To Do With It?: Everyday Magic, Day 966

I’ve been passionate about how the way we make livings speaks, argues with, or sings loud and proud through our lives. My first degree was in labor history because of how I was innately drawn to the often messy dilemma of work and life, and no surprise that over the years, I’ve returned to this question, especially when, decades ago, I stumbled across the Buddhist term “Right Livelihood.” I just wrote a piece on this along with callings and some ways to follow the work we love into fruition, published this morning on Medium — “Six Ways to Find the Work the You Love,”  that I’m sharing the link to right here.

What I wrote and what I’m living and learning is also very related to the Right Livelihood Professional Training I led for the first time last year with Laura Packer — the photo here features some of the cohort group in that training, meeting at the end of our intensive four months at the Power of Words conference at Goddard College in Vermont. This year, we’re doing it again, and I’m sharing the Medium article to help get out the word because of how much I believe in aligning ourselves with the work that calls to us.

Speaking from too much experience, I keep learning how not following the path we need to make (often by walking it) can lead to all kinds of soul chaos. I’ve left jobs and careers that didn’t work for me or made me sick or just felt all kinds of crazy-wrong, from working as a reporter to grassroots organizing to leaving volunteer positions that went against my values or wiped me out beyond exhaustion. I keep returning to the drawing board, literally lately as I’ve taken up drawing again (but that’s another story for the future) to find the what of the what, and I’m guessing this is a frequent-flyer endeavor for life. A calling, as I wrote about in the Medium article, is a lifelong conversation with lots of surprising dialogue behind and ahead.

Whatever our work is — whether a paid job, a bunch of gigs, volunteer and service work, making art or home or something of meaning — runs through the core of why we’re here. So let’s keep recovering, uncovering, and discovering that big and beautiful work of the soul!

P.S. Laura and I are doing Life and Livelihood Small Group coaching on March 23 — just 10 bucks for 90 minutes of asking your questions, discussing the curves and angles of how we find and make our best work, and meeting new friends. Details here.

 

 

The Beauty of Overgrowth: Everyday Magic, Day 940

With temperatures rising to summertime and good rains falling last week, everything is speeding into growth around this house. The hostas look like they’re on steroids, and all blossoming things are exploding into petals until they’re spent to thin, brown paper. Within the house of this human, a whole lot is growing exponentially too, coming to fruition at 80 mph. A bunch of projects that seemed maybe-ish are definite, meaning my days are full with finalizing an extensive online class with Laura Packer on our Right Livelihood Professional Training, watching clips of pre-Holocaust Jewish life in Europe for an upcoming Osher class, working with students on thesis projects and coaching clients on books, and many manner of other soon-to-harvests in the works.

The downside of such explosive growth is how behind I am on weeding — the garden and my mind, which is overrun with tendrils of this issue to solve or that decision to make. As I make my way through a lot of lists and a pile of work, I find — no surprise — that my mind spins with how to get through the mountains of work beyond this mountain in front of me.  So instead of counting sleep, I’m counting tasks and hours ahead late at night, planning how to do justice to the work I love when it’s in such a state of overgrowth. There’s also some fearsome and stressful edges in my work to navigate, trying not to get myself into such a state that I can’t navigate the wild waters well.

This is old hat for most of us dwelling in a state of overgrowth, yet sitting on this porch sipping iced tea, I’m reminded, as always by this beautiful world of greening presencethat my little worries and plottings are just the tiny picture shows playing in my frontal lobe. Beyond that is the vastness of this: a late spring morning, the hummingbirds zooming toward the feeder, the dog suddenly up from his long nap to watch a carpenter bee floating toward the walnut tree, the tired car, mud-splattered, napping on the pavement, the delicate wind winding through all that’s opening, doing its thing, then collapsing back again. Like me who will soon close this computer and take a nap on this porch while the world whirls in place.