Next to death and sex, work is the world’s best-kept secret.
We don’t talk about our work, not in any deep and thorough way, at least. Yet work makes up the majority of our lives, 8 out of 16 waking hours, 5 out of 7 days.
What would happen if we changed that? If we let our friends and lovers geek out about the projects they’re working on: the relationship they saved, the database they just installed, the strategy they came up with?
What would happen if we opened that box, if we pried the dam?
I’ll tell you. We’d gush all over each other.
Perhaps we’d be sheepish or cynical at first, but in time, we’d get going and we’d learn to enjoy it. We’d learn something new about each other, something as bright and red as a ruby, as crucial to our existence as a heartbeat.
And, after we finish these conversations, no matter how silly they feel coming out and going down, we’d all be a little bit closer.
Take it from someone who has these talks daily. It’s our most unappreciated magic: sharing what we do, well past the complaining, the venting, and the elevator pitches, deep into tasks we can do in our sleep. These little bits of action define us more than our mantras. They are the threads in our clothes, the lines on our hands.
This is not about whether you like your job or not. It’s about the cumulative impact of repetition, how the tide, without permission, shapes the continents.
We cannot know each other or stand with each other, without knowing the forces that have created us.