From the Heart: The Beautifully Grueling Work

“You're always learning. The problem is, sometimes you stop and think you understand the world. This is not correct. The world is always moving. You never reach the point you can stop making an effort.” ~Paulo Coelho

As I see it, there is no way to avoid the work. And the work can often be excruciatingly painful.

There is work in creating, work in caring, work in daring, work in the attempt to be better today than I was yesterday.

There is work in loving, work in partnering, work in raising, and work even in the process of eking out at least some amount of joy and pleasure, something to point to as some little reward.

All of life is work, wonderfully and beautifully grueling work, and it begins the moment we are born, and continues on until our final breath.

It is the beautifully grueling work—this attempt at living—that brings on both the laughter and the tears, the joy and the sorrow, the longing to unify and the desire to be an island.

There is work in hatching plans, and in straining and stressing to execute them.

And once those plans are manifested, then the work begins again because of a compulsion to go over what has been birthed with a fine tooth comb, refining it, correcting it, clarifying it, and making it as presentable to the word at large as possible.

And even then the process is never fully closed, as things are so often revisited over and over again, scrutinized repeatedly, and either critiqued and continued to be picked apart, or deemed “worthy enough” and allowed to rest...

For the time being, anyway...

But ultimately, all of this is for something, though it is difficult to make this out in the midst of the process of the beautifully grueling work being done.

The work is meant to create patience, to create persistence and perseverance.

It is meant to frustrate into action, into change, into some kind of movement to keep one from sinking in the quick sand.

And without it, life simply would not taste as good, would not contain as much urgency, nor teach us that we are capable of better, deeper, more...

I would not be honest if I did not say that I found myself cursing the beautifully grueling work under my breath from time to time, wishing it away, wishing it to leave me at peace.

But this work that we are given to do—this living, this breathing, this creating, this giving, this sharing, this caring—it has already been meticulously woven into the very fabric of our existence, and simply cannot be wished away.

It is as much a part of our experience as feeling our heart beat within our chests, as much as the feeling of hunger in our bellies, as much as feeling burning desire within our souls.

It is the beautifully grueling work—this attempt at living—that brings on both the laughter and the tears, the joy and the sorrow, the longing to unify and the desire to be an island.

It is at once exquisitely painful yet gloriously delicious, and something that this human experience simply could not do without.

Taste what's good and pass it on.

Ingrid