Making a Living

A cerulean skyline gives way to the city grid lines. Streamlined bodies flow against each other on man-made paths leading to hard-edged, monotonous buildings. A sea of black and blue suits and little black dresses swell against each other; the click of a pair of non-specific heels sets the pace. Carrying briefcases full of “Important” documents, the uniformed crowd file robotically into elevators which lift them into identical cubicle cells where they sit behind sales screens.
Coffee, creamer, sugar, repeat. Quote, order, bill, repeat. Read, reply, repeat.
Piece by piece, each meaningless task chips away at the adventure, the spirit we are born to unfetter.
As the creamer drips into the cup and the sugar gets stirred, time slows down, if only for a second. The liquid turns from milky white swirls against dark chocolate brown to a smooth caramel throughout. The touch of the warm ceramic mug with just a slight imperfect bump on the far side against the ridges of the palm creates electricity; the smell of the caffeine before the first sip brings a slight smirk. This is living.
Why when we speak of making a living must this automatically be associated with making money? Can it not just be that we are making a living by being alive and learning our way through the world? Learning where we fit, how we fit, who we are? Are the bees not making a living by pollinating the flowers?
It would be one thing if everyone truly did mean “making enough money to live on,” but the saying has turned into “making the largest living I can.” In reality this turns into breaking my back to make a dollar for my employer while I earn a dime.
Monetization of life is not living.
Enjoying a morning coffee, the smell of the air after a summer rain, the touch of the ocean waves and the sand between your toes, the smile on a childs face, the smell of an old book, the touch of a lover’s skin, the look of a freshly powdered snow – this is living!

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