If you’ve ever been to a party, mixer, wedding, or social event of any kind at which you encountered someone you haven’t met before, then you’ve probably been asked The Question: “What do you do for a living?”
I hate this question.
Not because it’s difficult to explain what I do—I mean, it kind of is, but that is 99% due to the societal expectations bored into me throughout my life that productivity and worth are contingent upon a traditional job of some sort, and so I have to grapple with the guilt, then acceptance and, finally, joy that what I do with my time is not within these norms.
No, I hate this question because it suggests that “living” is somehow equated with a job. The question is never “Do you like how you spend your time?” or “Are you happy in your life?” But these should be the questions.
As for me, I make my living—my life—by loving, laughing, being kind. Petting my dog and probably accidentally ingesting lots of cat hair and goofing with my kids. Talking with my friends. Watching waves. Eating pot pie and the occasional salad.
Listening to music, being silly, dancing. Drinking cold water, watching shadows move across walls, reading and reading and reading. Swimming. Floating. I make my living every day, all day. I make my living by actively living!
And so do you. Take that in; there is a great joy in that. There is no need to feel guilt or shame when asked The Question. If someone equates “making a living” with doing a job for money, that is on them.
Now, does making money help with living? Absolutely. Food is essential, clothes are nice. Someplace to sleep at night and a way to keep warm is excellent. Vacations are lovely. But the two acts—making money and making a living—are different and don’t need to be lumped together as if one begets the other.
I make my living by living; I make my money—which I love to receive and to share—by cobbling together a random array of jobs.
Would I like to find one that I enjoy doing and which also offers a retirement plan and insurance on my body and bones and eyeballs? Yes.
Will I stop all the aforementioned living when said unicorn employment makes itself known to me? Absolutely not.
The pets need petting. The sun needs faces to warm. The goofs need goofing.
Life goes on.
