Work tends to feel like work when I focus entirely on the end result. When I really care about the deadline, about the statistics, about the revenue it feels awfully dreadful.
Work tends to feel like play when I focus entirely on what I enjoy doing. I love to design, to write, to record, to edit, and to create. I find that process endlessly fascinating and engaging.
I’m sitting in the back of a car on an old back country road being driven over potholes and sharp corner turns. I’ve never felt more engaged. I feel entirely dead at a desk with a deadline looming over my head. I feel alive at a museum, on the road, in a hotel, in bed, or on the couch. There I can focus, because there’s only the work to focus on.
When I focus on the deadline, the work becomes secondary and it suffers. Ironically focusing on finishing the job makes the work worse. When I focus on the work, it becomes easy to focus.
I’m spending time for fun. I’m watching clouds go by. I can’t imagine this is more lucrative than living for a paycheck. But while I can I will and when I can’t I’ll try anyway.
Is there any economic advantage to writing this? None that I can see. In fact, if I ever can’t work for myself I imagine sharing these thoughts would hurt my job prospects. Oh well, I like spending time for fun. I’ve found myself with a coin-purse of minutes that I haven’t earned; a suitcase full of days God has allowed me to travel with.
At some point I imagine He’ll ask for these hours back. But in the meantime I don’t mind spending what I’ve been given. I wouldn’t want to insult the Giver by throwing out His gift.