
Tonight, when I come home from the cafe, I’ll put my tips in a jar and come back to this place, the place where I keep my pencils and papers and pens, the place where I do my real work.
For now, waiting tables is how I make money, but writing and drawing is how I make meaning. I didn’t always know that was possible, that your real work could pay you in other ways, that there were other forms of currency in this world.
Money, being so vital, often overshadows things like satisfaction, pride (the good kind), and a sense of doing something you care deeply about, but those too are vital compensations.
I guess I’m thinking about this because in two weeks I’ll be joining some of my friends at the the Joyfully Jobless Jamboree in Austin, Texas, and, for a while, I wasn’t sure I really belonged there. I’m not always joyful and, well, I have a job. Technically, anyway.
But I’m far more joyful than I’ve ever been, and for the past two years I’ve really felt quite jobless.
I’m employed, yes. I have this place I go to and this thing I do to make money, but it’s different than things I’ve done before, things that turned J, O, and B into a four-letter word.
Those things were the jobs you hear people complain about. I disliked them, but thought I had to have them, thought I couldn’t do without them. I was terrified of losing them even though I dreamed of escaping them and I worked hard to keep my bosses happy.
But waiting tables is not that way for me. It’s work, but it’s not a J-O-B. I don’t hate it. If I did, I’d find something else to do. Instead, it provides the money I need to survive and supports the work I need to do to thrive.
As far as bosses go? Well, I’m the one I try to keep happy these days, and no one’s been complaining so far.
I hope this work, my real work, will someday make me money too, but I’ll do it even if it doesn’t. That’s how I know it’s mine.
I guess that’s why I’m feeling so joyfully jobless today. Seems as though the Joyfully Jobless Jamboree is precisely where I need to be in a couple of weeks. Austin, here I come.
Maybe you’d like to join me. There’s still room they tell me. Click here to learn more.
Are you getting all the Quiet Inspiration you need? Subscribe to Quiet Inspiration, the Mildly Creative Newsletter. You can also subscribe to these blog posts via RSS feed or by Email.
{ 14 comments }






