Shall
we buy a new guitar
Shall
we drive a more powerful car
Shall
we work straight through the night
--“What Shall
We Do Now?” by Pink Floyd on The Wall
Perhaps
the “location, location, location” mantra for real estate can be used for the
continual discernment in which I’ve been engaged since I began The Artist’s Way in 2008: “vocation,
vocation, vocation.”
While
I was home for Thanksgiving, I was talking with my grandparents about work (not
CEP, but work as a verb, the thing humans do), and I was describing my yen for
work in which I use my hands for creation of physical things, not just typing
words (words and figures that ultimately do not result in a product other than
intellectual order or a receipt). I took
a picture of my grandmother’s hands in 2011 as she kneaded dough for rolls, and
the picture, “The Secret Ingredient” ended up winning a top place in the Office
of Religious Life’s “What is Love” photography contest that year. Hands have since been a theme between my
grandparents and me. My grandfather
(Elmer Naples ’62) held up his hands, each finger joint bulbous from use. He said it was mostly baseball while he was
at Princeton and afterwards that made his fingers crooked, baseball and his
woodworking and home improvement projects.
Disfigurement
is in the eye of the beholder. If I’m
going to be pointing fingers, I want it to be a finger well-used for creation
of real things. I feel it very deeply
that that’s my vocation, making stuff
(specifically healthy vegan and gluten-free baked goods!), not making
intellectual order.
All
in all, it was all just bricks in the wall.