The Work

And I don’t think on why I’m here or where it hurts

I’m just lucky to have the work

Sunday morning I’m too tired to go to church

But I thank God for the work

Jason Isbell, “Something More Than Free”

“You’re so talented.”

All compliments are appreciated, but I don’t care for this one much.  One, I’m an expert at nothing really.  I know so many people who are so much better than me at everything.  I do think I’m a pretty damn good songwriter, but no one is born a great songwriter.  It’s something you learn.  Maybe I have a natural gift for storytelling, but even that has been honed by listening to my elders, reading great literature and learning how to weave a yarn.  

See, “God-given talent” or “gift” is usually meant in the way that it’s easy.  I do believe it’s a God-given gift, but I believe God gave me the work as a gift unto itself.  He gave me the work as a place of refuge, as a place to take all my hurt, confusion, anger, love and gratitude to make sense of it.  He gave me a love of the work to grind it out, to see David in that white marble and work at it endlessly until everyone else can see him too.  He gave me the thick skin to keep at it when everyone is laughing at you.  He gave me the insecurity to be humble and to always work hard because, no matter how good I am, I’m not nearly as good as I could be.  

Would I love to make a living writing songs, yes, of course.  But it wouldn’t mean anything to me other than to give me more time to do it.  If you’re truly an artist, you never put away your pen, your brushes, your guitar, whatever.  It’s who you are and who you were made to be.  It’s not a phase.  It’s not dependent on financial or social capital.  I would assume cease to breathe as I could cease to create.  

I say all this sitting in the airport in Phoenix, waiting to fly home after my daughter’s hockey tournament.  I am not myself right now.  It’s been 4 days since I touched a guitar or piano, since I opened Logic, or did anything of the sort.  I hate airports and, while I love everyone as a human, I have affection for few of them.  Without the ability to retreat into the work, I am nowhere near the best version of myself.  While I am capable of being an asshole at any given moment, the barrier between my normal self and the monster who dwells inside of me is razor thin at the moment.  

I don’t think I’m alone here.  Maybe it’s not songwriting for you.  Maybe it’s running, or carpentry, or cooking.  But when I interact with people, day in and day out, I see a majority of people who are ignoring who they were made to be in favor of who they think they should be or who they think others want them to be, or, perhaps, anything other than who they are because they’re afraid of who they truly are.  

We as a culture are always looking for “work-life” balance and to make things easier on ourselves.  This is a privilege of 21st century western civilization.  We were all made to work, not necessarily for “the man” but we were made to work.  It’s part of the reason we’re all here to begin with.  Avoiding this in pursuit of more leisure, I believe, has led to an increase in misery rather than a decrease in it.  We have more money, more free time and more freedom than ever and we do less, love less and are more miserable than ever.  

I appreciate the compliments, I really do, but if you want to compliment me, or anyone else for that matter, “man, I can tell you really busted your hump on this” is the greatest compliment you could pay me.  That doesn’t even infer you like it, just that you know I sacrificed and bled for it.  If I’m never mentioned in the same breath as Cave, Dylan and Cohen, I’ll be fine with it, but don’t think for a second I’m not spending every day of my life towards that very end.  Failure would be quitting, falling short would merely be providence.  

Get to work folks, I want to see what you can do.