Highly personal post. Scroll past it if you’re not in the mood.
Work gives our lives meaning, and sometimes we forget that.
While traveling through Japan, I noticed that many, if not most shops were managed by very old, lively people.
One day I went by this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, attended by this very nice old lady.
I was watching her cooking, happily and skillfully, in the back of the kitchen, when I noticed an English newspaper taped to the window, with the headline “famous cook receives new award”.
The year on the newspaper? 1979!
In the picture she was already old, which was taken 45 years earlier.
She’s been cooking for decades, and happily so.
I noticed a similar thing with a very old couple running their hand craft business since the ‘80s.
Then I saw a group of old ladies traveling together and joking around.
And it hit me: the secret to their longevity lies both in community and in meaning. And for all, their craft and their work gives them meaning.
And I've been thinking about that recently.
You see, two and a half years ago, I managed to create a very comfortable life for myself.
I was fortunate enough to do what I wanted, when I wanted.
Started new hobbies, new projects, travelled. Rescued a puppy. Remarried the love of my life.
But I found no meaning. Joy was fleeting, same as excitement.
The thing is, my divergent profile, with high cognitive ability tangled with ADHD wiring, makes life annoyingly challenging.
I love starting new things, and I thrive in chaos and emergencies. Once things get repetitive, I get bored and lose interest.
Comfort, it turns out, is the worst possible environment for a brain like mine.
The old lady in the window has been cooking since 1979. It gave her life meaning. It's time for me to start cooking again.