Occupation / by Michael Garza

How many other people in the world right now work a job that is molding and melding them into something for it's own purposes, apart from whatever they "meant" to become, and was that always work? Did we just deify The Laborer when she just wanted to run store, when he just wanted to dance, or they didn't want to be a steel town in the first place?

From afar we see their beauty but they were completely oblivious, like us, to most of the glory in their day to day. This might be one of the true solutions (as in liquid mixture, too) embedded in community. I need you to see my own glory. You need me to show me your glory. Yes, god. But yes, god made his home in you and I need to feel home.

Complaining about a job in America comes with all the added baggage of privilege and ennui that makes me feel sick, but falls neatly into my Midwestern "shut up and enjoy what you have", creating a destructive loop of obligated dissatisfaction.  And yes, the gospel is the re-appropriation of my satisfaction to an altogether otherworldly source. But yes, my god came to inhabit this time and this flesh and this land so I get a little bit of the commission upfront right?

My bread and my roses - why build the heart to want a fullness it won't live to see? Or did the body out-desire the soul, searched its limits into where the spirit is unaware - because it's a transplant from eternity? The body clearly of this creation but liable to be a whole new take on the dirt. I just think it's hard with any numbers of days outside of delight. Jack Gilbert was right. The poets - spending their whole lives on being exactly right a handful of times. That is worth more than a thousand days well fed, well equipped for meaninglessness.