A Word from Bertrand Russell
“One of the symptoms of approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.”
~ Bertrand Russell
It finally happened. This week, someone said the words I’ve been afraid of hearing for many months: “What you do is about to become obsolete”, which in my world means “The business and expertise you’ve been building for the past 20 years is about to be worthless and you won’t be able to support your family anymore”. Ouch.
They weren’t talking about my writing (we all know the arts are about as safe as they’ve always been). They were talking about my paying job, about how the bots (what I call artificial intelligence) are going to make knowledge workers like me a thing of the past. Because all knowledge is about to be available to everyone and all the work relying on that knowledge will be done automatically in response to typing in prompts instead of learning to perform the work ourselves.
I didn’t disagree.
I don’t disagree.
Things are changing, yes they are.
What I’d like to tell you is that hearing these words put so plainly did not bother me. What I’d like to say is that I have complete faith that I’ll be able to pivot into something else just as valuable and I’ll be able to support my family even when the bots come for my job. But. . .
It did bother me.
It does bother me.
I’d be lying if I said otherwise.
My guess is I’m in good company. Loads of us who are out here in the world trying to build or make or do something valuable enough to earn money to support our families are going to have to pivot, change, and grow in new ways if we want to keep supporting our families.
It’s okay.
It’s happened before.
It will happen again.
If anyone thinks we’re not thinking about it almost every waking moment, they’ve got another think coming. We’re going to figure this out. We always do. The value of human beings helping other human beings will never be obsolete, and there are countless ways we can help each other that will earn money (or bartered goods maybe?) so we can support our families.
We’re not going anywhere. Sometimes we just need the opportunity to remind ourselves — work changes, but we still matter.
Which is why I smiled a gigantic smile when I ran across this quote from Bertrand Russell in my journal this morning ⤵
“One of the symptoms of approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.”
I first saw these words in a book by Austin Kleon called Don’t Call It Art and it immediately brought to mind the times I and/or a colleague of mine burnt out and broke down along the way because we didn’t hold our work lightly enough. It also reminded me of all the times we pivoted and found something new to do and came out all the better for it. Which I’m incredibly grateful for, and which wouldn’t be possible for any of us to do, I believe, without this exercise I’ve returned to again and again from the great Carl Jung ⤵
“What did you do as a child that made the hours pass like minutes? Herein lies the key to your earthly pursuits.”
For some of us, that was playing school (teaching), drawing and painting (making art), recording stories in our journals (writing), making mud cakes (potting). For others, it was playing around in the kitchen, building weird stuff, collecting toy cars, getting lost in the woods, . . . the list is endless.
Tapping into what we loved to do as kids is great advice, in my opinion, for all of us and the times we’re in, whether or we’re the ones whose jobs are replaced this time. It can open up all kinds of possibilities. And it pairs nicely with a little something I saw last fall while on college tours with my now-freshman — a poster taped to a classroom door by an art school professor⤵
Because whatever we’re putting out there, the energy we put behind it is what really matters, hey?
I’ve had a version of this quote on my desk on a little quote card right by my computer monitor for the past year, and I read it every morning before I start my workday. It reminds me that my work isn’t all there is. It reminds me that I’m not responsible for whether or not people like me or if they decide to exchange money for the value I have to offer.
We can’t control the outcomes and outputs and indicator measures of this or that 100% of the time, maybe not even any of the time.
All we can control, and what we are 100% responsible for, is the way we approach the task at hand, the attitude we bring to the work in front of us, the light we keep in the hours that are ours to spend.
We’re not responsible for how the bots might replace us, but we are responsible for our attitudes, beliefs, and proactive or reactive actions.
We’re not responsible for the way the cake comes out of the oven or the way the pot comes off the wheel, but we are responsible for putting in the right ingredients and bringing our best effort to the party.
We’re not responsible for the outcome of the midterm elections next Tuesday, but we are responsible for adding our votes to the ballot box. (Please, please vote!)
Whatever is going on in your world or swirling around your heart and mind today, I hope this brings you hope the way it does me.
What we do matters.
The way we do it matters more.
And if we find ourselves in a world very soon where we need to do something completely different, we can do that, too.
There are loads of us out here figuring it out with you.
Here’s what I’m reading this week ⤵
WHAT’S ON MY NIGHTSTAND
After loving Ernie’s Ark so much last week, I just couldn’t leave the world of Monica Wood yet. So, I picked up a copy of her memoir When We Were the Kennedys last weekend, and I’m loving it. There’s something really powerful about place-based literature, hey?
WHAT’S IN MY EARBUDS
After finishing Barbara Kingsolver’s Partita, which I 100% loved apart from the ending (send me a note if you want to commiserate about it), I’ve decided to read something completely outside of my norm. So I just started a novel by Michael Crichton called Congo. If you remember this book from days of old, you might be wondering why. . . 1) I found it in the archives page for my favorite audiobook narrator of all time, 2) I love stories about rain forest and jungle adventures, 3) I had no idea it was originally published in 1980 when I started it, and 4) The story makes me think of Jane Goodall. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.
WHAT’S IN MY MORNING BASKET
I’ve loved getting back into The Creative Act by Rick Rubin this week. It’s even better the second time around. Highly recommend.
WHAT’S ON MY WEEKEND TBR LIST
I’m hoping to finish Congo this weekend and get into one of the other audiobooks I found in the Libro BOGO sale this week — the new Octavia Butler biography Positive Obsession and a Maine-flavored novel that’s been on my TBR for far too long, The Berry Pickers by Amanda Peters.
What about you? Read any good books lately?
I’d love to know :) Send me a message
✌🏼️💓 📚
Celeste
did AI write this? nope, this lady did ⤴ always