A few weeks ago we explored the topic of laziness, and how it helps us, "...save ourselves from our own and others' abstract notions of what is good." Far from a pure vice, laziness has a utility all its own, both in terms of productivity and life satisfaction.
With that said, experience suggests that at times, there are few things more satisfying than a little hard work. Whether it's knuckling down on a stubborn research paper, or employing some combination of muscle and sinew, few things cure a case of ennui more effectively than an aptly-timed dose of exhilarating labor.
It is perhaps like food, in that as we have an appetite for food, so we also have one for work. At times we are satiated, and at others full. Some folks are never satiated: they must always eat, or always labor. In either case, a little laziness from time-to-time might do them both good (consider the expression, "I'm hungry, but too lazy to eat").
I raise the issue, because we frequently hear labor and laziness characterized as antagonistic principles of action (or inaction), which constantly divide the world. You're either a maker or a taker, a worker or a good-for-nothing idler; a contributor or a leech.
This has been going on a long time. 2,500 years ago, the Greek fabulist Aesop told the story of a band of industrious ants and an idling grasshopper. For those who don't remember, the story begins in summer. Finding a world of rich and plenty, the grasshopper spends the summer singing and dancing, living off the the fat of the land. Meanwhile, the industrious ants--heeding the words of House Stark--took to the fields to make hay while the long summer sun still shone. Come winter, the ants found themselves in a comfortable position, while the grasshopper found himself a beggar at the ants' doorstep.
The traditional way of interpreting this story is to praise the industry of the ants and deride the idleness of the grasshopper. Beware, it warns, of the perils of improvidence, which leave one hungry when times grow lean. One moralist version from the Renaissance concluded with the remark, "To work today is to eat tomorrow."
It's all very good advice, but maintains the unfounded dualism between laziness and labor; to my mind, we need both if we're to make things work.
Consider the position of the actors in this anthropomorphic drama. In summer, the grasshopper can live however he likes and still make it, because summer is the time of much and plenty. One practically trips over wealth and food whilst carousing under a warm summer sky, all the while singing praises to "the god of tits and wine." To breathe is to thrive in such circumstances, and our friend grasshopper is a master at that.
Come winter, however, the times grown lean. Great efforts are needed just to subsist, and even that may not prove enough. The margin for error--like poor grasshooper's belly--grows slim, and minor mistakes in summer turn into catastrophes in winter.
The ants of the story hedge against this reality by gathering while the gathering is good. They work hard over the summer so they can spend the winter calm in the knowledge their margin for error is great. I like to think (if they were cheery ants anyway) that they spend the cold months pursuing interests, playing music for each other, and creating things of cultural interest and value. And barring that, I like to think the ants let themselves be a little lazy here and there; that they sleep soundly, rising refreshed and eager at dawn, ready to smile on a new day knowing all their basic needs are met. That their investments and hard work give them flexibility to live free, satisfying lives, in which they can make art and give their children all the love they deserve.
Not all ants will be like this. Some will work all winter too. They'll spurn culture and, purposely or otherwise, neglect the emerging generation. They'll preach an ideology of greed and ceaseless labor, and lambaste any who dare work less than them. So often they'll act from a position of indignation or fear, and perhaps never take satisfaction from the hard work they endlessly perform.
Laziness and labor are not antagonists, but opposites which support and nourish each other. Laziness keeps us from overzealotry, while labor in fat times can increase our freedom in lean ones. Each--laziness and labor--help us meet needs, be they basic to subsistence, or a life of laughter and love. Even in the moment, hard work is not always a dirge, just as laziness--far from a source of ensured happiness--can quite literally "bore us to death."
So let's celebrate these two qualities as the partners they are, rather than the rivals they're so often made out to be.
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