Chapter 8 labor

A farmer said, please tell us about the labor. He replied: You work so you can be in sync with the earth and its spirit. If you are indolent, you become strangers to the seasons, and fall behind in the ranks of life which are marching with solemn grandeur and proud resignation to eternity. You are a flute when you work, and the whisper of time becomes music through your heart. Which of you would be a reed, that himself would be silent, when all things sing in unison? You will always be told: work is a curse, labor is a misfortune. But I say to you: when you work, you fulfill the wildest dreams of a part of the earth, which was allotted to you when the dream was formed,

Your hard work is the true love of life, To love life in labor is to know the deepest secret of life. However, if you call birth a torment in pain, and maintain your physical existence as a curse written on your forehead, then I answer that only the sweat on your forehead can wash away those writings. There are always people who tell you that life is dark, and when you are tired repeat the language of the tired And I say life is dark indeed, unless there is desire, All desire is blind except with knowledge, All knowledge is vain unless there is work, All work is empty except with love;

When you work with love, you become one with yourself, with others, and with God. What is it to work with love? It is to weave and sew the cloth with the thread of your heart, as if your beloved would wear it. It is to build a house with passion, as if your beloved would dwell in it. It is to sow with affection and reap with joy, as if your beloved were to taste the fruit. It is to infuse all your products with the breath of your soul. It is the awareness that all the blessed dead are around and watching you. I often hear you whispering in your dreams: "He who carves marble and finds the image of his soul in the stone is nobler than the farmer who plows the field.

"The man who captures the rainbow, and uses it to paint a figure of man on a piece of fabric, is better than the man who makes shoes." But I will say,--not in sleep, but at noon's extra-waking: The wind does not speak sweeter to the tall oak than it speaks to the slender blade of grass, A man is great who can turn the wind into song, and sweeten it with his love. Labor is visible love. If you cannot labor with love, but are bored, you might as well give up your labor and sit at the gates of the temples, waiting for alms from those who enjoy labor. If you bake bread without zeal, your bread will be bitter and half full.

If you press the grapes with difficulty, your wrath drips venom into the wine.If ye can sing like angels but do not love to sing, ye have blocked the ears of men to hear the voice of day and night.