So something that’s been on my mind lately is just how much I loathe sitting at a desk all the time. I really do enjoy writing, but in order for me to attain real spiritual clarity I need to be moving. Once upon a time I worked in the ice delivery business. We stocked grocery stores and gas stations with bags of ice. We suffered many, many “Ice Man Cometh” jokes and “that’s a cool job” jokes. We worked often ten or twelve hours a day and drove all across the state. It was extremely phsyical work….
And yet, the sort of weariness I’d feel at the end of the day was not the same as the sort I feel now. I could attribute this to fatherhood, I suppose. Or age. But I think it’s the lack of motion. I’m thinking maybe forestry would be a good gig. For a while I thought perhaps academia but I don’t think I’m cut out for it. I don’t think I’d have patience for the ivory towers. Any foresters out there? Anybody know much about it? All the job descriptions list “long hikes through the woods” in a sort of almost ominous way, but it sounds like fun to me….
Burt Likko 
Will Truman 
Kim 
DensityDuck 
Mark Thompson 
Randy Harris 
Plinko 
Teacher 
Borat: “I do a picture, only small, of the Tishnik Masacre. Where many Uzbeks…crushed!”
Kindly Gray Hippie: “How did you feel when you drew this?”
Borat: “Very proud!”.
KGH: “I’m just listening with sadness…a little sadness for your people…?”
Borat: “Yes…no, it is not sad. It is us who do the kill!”
When in doubt,
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E.D., just in case you somehow ended up delivering ice in northern Indiana at some point and our paths crossed, I apologized: When working in the grocery store, I made, I know, the “The Ice Man Cometh” joke far too many times. (“That’s a cool job” never crossed my mind, though.)
I don’t know much about forestry jobs, but I’m right with you on this point. And I don’t know that it even needs to be limited to outdoor work. Managing the store, working for my neighbor doing rehab work — this were fantastic experiences in large part because they required both mental and physical labor. Even if it predated my entrance into the blogging world and I wasn’t reading much then, I think the period before I headed out to Maryland was one when I was, on the whole, much sharper mentally than I was in grad school, just because I was more “holistically” active than I was for much of my time out East.
Right – the physical, intellectual, and spiritual elements of our “selves” are all inextricably tied to one another. I think for some people they are more closely bound than for others. I am far too moody a person to do well without physicality in my life. It clouds my mind and that becomes in turn frustrating, unfocusing, etc.
And no, my ice delivery days were all in sunny Arizona…
When I was doing archaeology we often said that the only difference between ourselves and landscapers was a $40,000 diploma. The physical part of the work was eerily similar. My back is happy I left the profession, by the constant battle with my waistline as I sit 10 hours per day is not always a welcome trade-off.
I worked for a while at a restaurant. People came to me thirsty and hungry, I gave them to drink and fed them. Given that the male:female ratio at the place was 1:10, it was great to go there every day and be surrounded by females just a little bit younger than me.
When one was done at the end of the day, one could sit down with some bread, some wine, and think about how “this is how Jesus felt”.
That said, the perfect job for a 20-year old is not the perfect job for a 36-year old.
And vice versa.
That said, the perfect job for a 20-year old is not the perfect job for a 36-year old.
Yes but what about the 28 year old???
Get a haircut and a real job, hippie.
I have a haircut and a real job. That’s the problem.
They pay you more so you can buy better stuff to make you feel better about the freedom you lost.
Are you buying better stuff? Maybe that’s your problem.
Alas, no. I’m buying as little as possible. I’m trying to make amends for buying so much stuff that I couldn’t afford in a previous life…
Oh, well. You did stuff in the wrong order.
They talk about this in the Talmud.
Well, if I had to do it over again I’d be a Trappist monk, if my wife could be a Trappette with me. And, I would wear a Tee shirt that read, “Ask me about my vow of silence.”…….I’m sorry!
Try John Prine’s Spanish Pipedream, and go find the Port William membership, they’re out their somewhere.
A Trappette, eh? That’s a novel idea. As it happens I do favor priests being allowed to wed, but monks? Not so sure about that… ;)
Women, though wonderful, possess an incomparable ability to drive a man to drink. This being so, if Trappists are known for their brewing, then should we not advocate that they be permitted to marry? Surely, a brewer-monk who knows first-hand the salutary benefits of a good beer, because he seeks solace from his significant other therein, is a monk whom we wish to have in the Church.
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