Although I’ve been in the midst of a job search since early- to mid-August, I have yet to find gainful employment.  One of the main reasons for this is simple: I’m not going back to the all-or-nothing job world.  I don’t live to work; I work to live.  Why then must I spend the vast majority of my time helping a company make money when I have no opportunity to enjoy the fruit of my own labor?  Why would I want to work until I’m ready to fall over only to be forced to take vacation time in order to address the necessities of my own life?  Why would I spend all week inundated by 12-14 hour days just so I can cram my weekend full of chores and errands, and that assuming I don’t have to work most weekends?  And despite all of that, I still wouldn’t be living.  I’d be surviving at best.

We call it making a living, but that is a misnomer if ever there was one.  It’s not making a living.  There’s no living involved in it.  None at all.  It’s grinding away life, energy, and essence under the foot of some greedy organization that really doesn’t care and will readily stand on the backs of people at every opportunity.

I am not a commodity.  I will not be treated like a commodity.

A job is the means to an end.  The means, of course, is income.  The end is living.  Life is to be enjoyed, not endured, and that must start first with empowering ourselves to live before we’re too old and too sick to do so.  Therein lies the greatest calamity of American capitalism.  We are encouraged—dare I say forced?—to work our asses off for the vast majority of our lives so we can retire with a trifling nest egg and a failing body, neither of which is able to scratch the surface of the dreams we held on to for 60 years.  Our income then is further reduced by the horrendous costs of trying to maintain our failing bodies, something for which we alone are responsible.  In the end, we are left with little coin and few years, and for that, we are to be thankful?  I think not.

The driving force of all that we are as a species is not to work.  It’s to live.  Do you ever feel truly satisfied at the end of a workweek?  Do you find your weekends relaxing and rejuvenating?  Is all of your vacation time used for fun and folly?

For the past six months while I have not been working, I have found tremendous joy and fulfillment in the smallest of things.  I have delved into the depths of life on earth and reached the highest limits of awareness and existence.  I’ve enjoyed not having the unbearable stress of some clueless boss always demanding of me what they themselves are unwilling to give.  I’ve found time to explore the little things in life, including photographing wildlife around the lake, weather over my head, and insects on my own patio, writing with the focus necessary to be rewarding, and the comfort of doing what I need to do when I need to do it.  I’ve rediscovered the wonder that exists right here in my own home with five cats who all want nothing more than to spend time with me, something too often taken away from them by mindless executives and ruthless companies.

I have made it my mission in life to avoid being dragged into the same employment trap to which I have been enslaved for the last 20 years.  I am not here to make some arbitrary company successful so they can turn around and kick me to the curb when it’s convenient.  I am not here to be trampled underfoot so ass-kissers and incompetents can climb the ladder of financial success only at the expense of those of us who actually do the work.  I am not here to sacrifice so much of my personal time at a complete loss to myself with no thanks, no compensation, and no hope.  That’s just not for me anymore (it never was, but it’s taken some time for me to realize it).

Forfeiting my life under such circumstances is a surrender I’m no longer willing to offer.  I will caveat that with the understood truth.  If I work for an organization focused on the welfare of others, losing my self in the work is easier to understand and excuse and it would even be acceptable to a great degree.  Even then, however, I suspect I’d be far less likely to do so if it were along the lines of helping people rather than nature.  There is no love lost between the human race and me.  Our species has done enough damage and generally deserves what it gets (which is almost always far less destructive than what it gives).  But in conservation or animal rehabilitation or anything similar, I would happily forego my new declared self-interest in such matters.

So my job search continues.  In the process, so does my quest to ensure my own happiness by not relinquishing my life for a paycheck.  I will no longer work without living.