I have often read of inspiration as a nagging persistent presence lingering, even haunting, scarcely contained below consciousness. Able to pause and hold its breath yet equally inclined to rupture the conscious bubble containing it, spilling out in messy, colourful, incoherent and often insomnia-induced fragments of data. Knowledge that fades as the morning sun renders our dreamlike state inappropriate and we are left with scraps, like torn out images from a magazine, plucked, stuck and shut away, memories to unpack another day.
Every now and then, a word, a remnant of inspiration, refuses to be plucked, stuck and shut away. It signs its mark across every surface, inside every thought and demands attention. Recently I have been plagued by the word WORK. Not the cost of living, metered monetary worth that consents our way of life – work, but the soul inspiring, light and life giving work that serves our true purpose. Make no mistake it is there, in everything we do, and maybe it is just me that is waking to its presence, but just maybe the reason it has been persistently knocking on my door is because I needed to voice it, put it down in writing and share it – because maybe it’s a message that is not meant to be hoarded but one to be celebrated.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my work – the one that pays the bills, admittedly it is not my childhood dream of painstakingly sending brushstrokes across a dusty strata to reveal fragments of bone, artefact, remnant of the past, unravelling history one layer at a time. The irony of that dream does not escape me within this story, because this word – WORK – has made it clear that in reality we are all archaeologists excavating our own true purpose, so while I may not be living my dream, my work does allow me plenty of opportunities to excavate my purpose.
I used to think that products of industry, the something we have to show at the end of the day are the things by which we measure a good days work, but as I am learning (or is it unlearning and revealing?) it is in fact the work we do on ourselves, for our best purpose – that is THE most important, if not only work that is worth doing. And slowly that word – WORK – has been morphed (because words are magic, that’s why it’s called spelling) into magic – because that is what it is.
Our most important work should be weaving threads of inherent knowledge, recognising, acknowledging, embracing, letting go, rethreading and rebuilding. It is the stretching of our self-perception beyond obstructions of fear to finding the truth of who we are and what we are capable of so that we can reconnect. Perhaps it is because I have become aware of this within myself that I am finding it so apparent everywhere else and why I am compelled to remind whoever will hear it to become aware of it within you.
We live in a season of hurried existence, stumbling over each other. We seem to have forgotten a great many things, not the least of which is our human experience. In a world that thrives on deadlines, profits, balances and checks, the most important check-in we need is with ourselves – in our energy, our breath and the realities we create for ourselves and those closest to us with our words and actions. This is where the work becomes magic, because we have the power to react differently, to be more mindful of the realities we create, to know that this is the work we should be focussing our energies on, because in doing so we naturally remind ourselves of the world we want to live in.
If it resonates with you – it is time to stop judging your worth by the results of your industry. Recognise that the real produce of your work is the light you brought to someone else when you offered a smile. It is the connection you felt when you freed yourself from a recurring negative pattern. It is the inner work we do, in the quiet between moments where definitive results resonate loudest.