Cronos

For a long time, i held a job i did not like. I preferred it to unemployment, but nonetheless i suffered. It was a family business, owned by two brothers; describing this pair as undeveloped is almost a kindness. The elder of the two was ethically challenged, and not above raiding company assets for his personal use; while the younger, smarting under and overcompensating for a deep sense of inferiority, adopted attitudes that resulted in his becoming the most widely disliked person i ever met.

To their credit, they once turned to a consultant under whose guidance a series of meetings of department heads was inaugurated. The younger began to address a bit of hubbub at the initial meeting only to be interrupted by the elder, saying, “I am oldest let me speak first!” This was too much for me; here i was in a world of supposedly grown men, exposed to the antics of the pair of brothers acting as pre-adolescents. Stunned, i rose and left the room without a word.

Years had gone by and i was deeply troubled by this and other externals to my discontent, i turned inward for succor, where in a slightly altered state, the image of my favorite yogi appeared in my mind’s eye, offering this message. “Love your work.”

Yikes! What an injunction! It was too tough for me; i could not make myself do it. Instead, i opted for a compromise; i would learn to love my work for what it could teach me.

For a time this worked quite well. The job was an excellent teacher. I learned much about work. In practical terms: how to complete tasks simply and efficiently, how to organize my time and that of others, how to do customer relations, how to negotiate labor contracts, and lots more. In addition, i came to an understanding of the meaning of work itself, of how to see it in a broad and deep context. Work, for example, is one third of the triumvirate of modes through which humans find fulfillment. The other two are the giving and receiving of affection and understanding. Furthermore, there are established yogas for each of these three.

Years passed, and under this aegis, i learned. However, the internal suffering was unresolved and undeniable discontent bubbled to the forefront of mind. Once again, i turned inward; and the image of that faithful yogi re-appeared, offering this nuanced message, “Love your work for its own sake.”

It did not take too long, my resistance dropped, and i finally got it. Then completely unexpected, i got a job offer, two thousand miles away near San Francisco. My prospective employers met me at the airport, and wooed me royally. We went up in a small plane, where briefly, i was offered its control. We flew north over the bay, past Alcatraz, the Golden Gate, and down the coast to Half Moon Bay, where we landed for lunch.

It was as if i had entered a different world. Truth be said, i was different and discontent was gone!

Today i might put the Yogi’s revised injunction in haiku form:

Karmayoga

Each thing for its own
Sake and time, without reward.
Obvious, Unseen!