What is my work?
It’s the work I’m doing.
Period.
When I’m doing the dishes, my work is doing the dishes.
When I’m walking the dog, my work is animal care.
When I’m napping in the middle of a weekday my work is self-care.
When I’m arguing with my son about taking out the garbage my work is child rearing and waste management.
When I’m staring in the mirror wondering what the hell has become of my life, my work is the contemplation of existence.
My work is the work I’m doing. How do I know? I’m doing it. Whatever I’m doing is what I should be doing. Any other understanding is an argument with reality. And I lose that argument 100% of the time - which is a gift because reality is always peaceful and kind.
And for that reason, my work always starts on time and lasts until the exact moment it is time to stop.
No exceptions.
I can never fail to do my work.
I can only believe I do and miss the gift of living out God’s (the universe’s) perfect plan.