I Don't Dream of Labor, But I Do Dream of Vocation

Mary Oliver May: On meaningful work and the joy and work of creativity

Dear Reader,

Imagine a life that looks like this:

In the morning, you wake up amidst a flurry of white linen sheets in a steel frame bed. The sun has just begun to rise over the beach a few steps from your small home you share with the love of your life. You pull on the long t shirt, shawl, and rumpled cargo pants, and put a notebook, a pencil, and an orange into a small bag. You head out into the forrest, and spend the long morning hours listening to and attending to the beauty of Cape Cod around you. You wait and there it is! a poem strikes you mid-fancy, and you write it down. Then, you get home hungry and alert, and find your lover in the kitchen, a mid-morning breakfast of eggs and raspberry jam already set out for you.

This is the stuff of cottagecore fantasy, and for good reason. Certainly, this is a vignette filled with simple and luxurious delights, most focused on the ability to live somewhere beautiful and have the time to slow down.