there's more to life than books, you know

Reading David Abram on the train today made me wonder What I got was: need to feed out more gratitude
find more space + time to soak up peace
+ vibrant activity all around me
outside more breathing and giving thanks
approach my work with an attitude of precision and grace-- care for this,
my situation.

* * *
And then last night picking through the rapidly-wilting greens to make a salad, I remembered that as one of my least favorite kitchen tasks, picking through the huge plastic sacks of mesclun that go so quickly and smell so foul. Picking through with my little nimble fingers I realized,

There's nothing I produce that I am able to take pride in, nothing tangible I can care about (like putting out food, or even making sure profs get their readings copied, or tutoring.) The only thing I really produce, aside from spreadsheets and meaningless movement in some database somewhere, is profit for somebody else. Not even my immediate bosses, who I might be able to muster something like care for, or the ladies around me who've been doing this for 30+ years, but for "the firm," I guess, somewhere along the line. Immaterial indeed.