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The Work Continues

I very frequently tell the story of how, after my firstborn child was born, and my paternity leave ended, I was told by my wife to remember that 'my work would always have an easier time replacing me than my family'. I use this as an anecdote for parents to plan and prioritize according to where they are most needed.

It is something of a triumph of modern education systems and business function that people are mostly interchangeable, even if the commoditization of the workforce is of questionable value to said workforce. I remind myself a lot to prioritize the contexts where I am irreplaceable--not always or only to make myself replaceable, though there are places where this is the case, but because those contexts are more important, as I will not be here forever, and I must get done what I can while I am.

Nevertheless, the work continues. When I retire, my job function will likely exist, and someone else will need to fill it. This could be seen as an argument for disengagement, because there is no way I can complete the task at hand, whatever that task might be. But I find that these are essential to providing meaning to our existence, as well: to be a part of something longer and larger and more resilient than us.

I remember taking part in a religious ceremony once that had been unchanged for thousands of years: the same songs, incense, recitations--all in a language I did not speak. There is power in that--in the longevity not of a human, but of our humanity. And so, in some meaningful contexts, engaging with a thing precisely because it will continue after us--because we will be replaced--is the reason to engage.

The challenge is to find the balance in this disentanglement with some things because there are more present, temporal relationships (that will not continue) to nurture, and to engage in something because one day we will be gone, but the work continues.