The Job of Purpose

I was explaining to someone today about how I want my work to be meaningful. I don't mean writing this blog or taking a photograph, but my work, work... the stuff I do to keep the rain off my head and roast chicken in my mouth. If I'm going to spend 40 hours a week doing something, I want it to be meaningful. Otherwise, I feel like I'm wasting my life.

Imagine, if everyone on the planet had a job. And they they knew that job had a positive impact on the world. That even if they're doing some job from the bottom of the pool, they would know that how they do their job affects more than their paycheck, but their part of the greater good. The pride. The assuredness. The peace we would all feel. People would respect each other because they would recognize that they are everyone else's keepers. When you are given a responsibility of care, you cannot help but love your burden. Even when you hate the details. The overall picture of us would be one of extreme satisfaction. The kind of satisfaction that makes world leaders uncomprehending of how they could possibly launch a fire bomb or nuclear warhead. The kind of satisfaction that leads to creative thinking in science labs, a complete drop in crime, education that inspires interrogative learning. Everything would shift. The kind of shift that makes one sigh one long, deep exhalation.