You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth, for to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life’s procession that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.
When you work, you are a flute, through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
Always you have been told that work is a curse, and labor a misfortune, but I say to you, that when you work, you fulfill a part of earth’s furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born. And in keeping yourself with labor, you are, in truth loving life. And to love life through labor is to be intimate with life’s inmost secret.
When you work with love, you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another. And what is it to work with love? It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth. It is to build a house with affection, as if your beloved were to dwell in your home. It is to sow seeds with tenderness, and reap the harvest with joy, as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
To work with love is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit.
Work is love made visible.