Sharp lines define: the corners of a square, the borders of a tattoo, the ends of a smile. Sharp lines form an edge, and I’ve sharpened some edges like hunters sharpen knives.

There’s a fine line between light and darkness: where the shadows blur and intermingle, the edge of twilight simultaneous beckons us forward and pushes us back.

Treading upon this edge has been my journey of late, and every misstep brings me closer to the blades upon which I try to balance.

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Love Thy Work, or Forever Suffer

1.10     Shemayah and Avtalyon received the tradition from them. Shemayah taught:

Love work;
Hate positions of domination;
Do not make yourself known to the authorities.

Who here has the pleasure of being able to say “I love my job”? I have a sad feeling it’s not many among you (if I’ve yet acquired many readers), but nonetheless, it’s what most people seem to want: We go to school to get jobs that make money that we’ll love doing. It’s what we aim for in life. It’s where we want to be.

But it’s not where we are. That’s the problem. That’s the lesson. We have to make loving what we do an active part of doing it. Take for example school: I love learning. I do much to try to make learning relevant to me, to make myself interested in it so I love doing it—and it’s paid off, I’m doing quite well, and I’m very happy learning new things. But too many people give up early. They just don’t put their heart into what their hands are doing.

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