The Joy of Work

Remember Maynard G. Krebs? Dobie Gillis's sidekick on the late 50's sitcom? Everytime he heard the word 'work' spoken by anybody, he'd react in terror, shrieking 'Work?!' in return.

Krebs was a pre-hippie, a beatnik. By the way, I always thought beatniks were far more interesting than hippies. They wore goatees and dressed in black a lot and hung out in places with red checked tablecloths and chianti bottles as candle holders. They snapped their fingers as people read poetry, smoked cigarettes and listened to jazz. I've always wanted to be a beatnik. Unfortunately, I came of age in the time of the hippie, and that's what I had to settle for.

Some fortunate souls got to straddle the two eras: Allen Ginsberg staried out as a beatnik and ended up as a hippie . . . then a homo and finally an icon.

Dobie Gillis's other sidekick was Zelda Gilroy was played by Sheila Kuehl -- then called 'Sheila James' -- who is now a popular California State Senator. She's also a lesbian, and represents us ALL quite well.

But this isn't about Dobie Gillis or Beatniks or Lesbians or even Allen Ginsberg. It's about Work: The Joy of Work.

I've always thought I'd be particularly happy doing rather mindless work with my hands that makes life better in some small way for some small group of people. The village blacksmith. The family doctor. The Mexican gardener. . It's a very existential notion: life is chaos without purpose and no chance of ever making sense. The only sane or noble thing to do is to work with your hands to make that small piece of the universe within your reach a better place. So you get to be the doctor during the Plague years;
or the one who saws off the legs of Confederate wounded as they fill the streets of Atlanta's Five Points. You rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic because that's what you do. And in work lies dignity.

My work is like that. But I use my brain and mouth much more than my hands. I am a communicator. I guess there's really not that much difference between me and, say, the gardener . After all, the hand is the cutting edge of the mind, so the gardener is using his hands in the same way I use my tongue. We're both communicating.

Unfortunately, I dont' get that many opportunities to stand up and do my work. Mostly I'm spending my time in preparation and problem resoluion. I prepare before hand and handle the problems afterwards. But I do get to do my teach, talk, persuade thing in between and it is the moment when I am most present, most alive.

I remember a story about Duane Allman. A year or so before he died he supposedly told Eric Clapton that he'd finally gotten to the point that there was no disconnect between his mind and his hands when he was playing guitar. As quickly as he could think the notes, he was playing them. It was as if he was on auto-pilot or trance channelling, or something. That's what happens when I'm working with a group. It's as if the curtain drops and there I am and I just ooze out.

That's the joy of work: being so present that the regrets of the past and the worries of the future cease to be. Everything falls away except for the work you are doing.

Back when I used to paint, the sensation was similar. I'd 'fall into the canvas and be transported to this special place where my thoughts spilled out through my brushes. It was very much like meditating. And I believe those experiences had the same rejeuvenating benefits that meditation has for faithful practitioners.

I have a friend who has a whole different attitude toward work. And I respect him greatly for it. He believes work is something to be done only when one absolutely HAS to do it; and then it should be done for as little a time as possible. He's a professional loafer, kind of a real life Maynard G. Krebs. Every once in a great while he gets a dip shit job somewhere doing something, works it as long as he needs to, then quits and loafs for awhile. He's in his mid-50s and is very youthful. Perhaps behaving like a 17 year old keeps one young?

Dwayne Hickman (Dobie Gillis) is 70 years old. Bob Denver (Maynard G. Krebs) is 69. Allen Ginsberg (Poet) would have been 88, Shirley Kuehl (Zelda Gilroy) is 63. Dead old Dwayne would have been 57. I am younger than all of them. What a joy!

Comments

[Gunnar21]

I envy you. I've worked the same 'job' for 12 years. Every day is a clock watching, second counting hell. I have never lost myself in my work. And I have never looked forward to going to my job. The best thing I can say is that I work exactly 40 hours a week and never on Saturday or Sunday. Those days -- and evenings -- are mine. And that's where I lose myself.