There was once a traveler who came upon a large construction site, filled with stone masons. Everywhere he looked, he saw people laboring away. The clatter of hammers on stones, heavy objects being moved, was all around. He was curious about what was being built, what great monument was being constructed. He stopped to ask questions. “What are you doing?’ He asked the first person he met.
Looking up, the laborer smiled and said, “Here, I am building a wall.”
“I see,” the traveler replied, confused, not really seeing much of a wall. He walked to the next person he saw working. He asked the question again, “What are you doing here?” The next worker barely looked up, not wanting to break his concentration and replied, “I am working to become the best stone mason in the world.”
“Ah,” the traveler responded, even more puzzled, and moved on to ask his question again. The third answer he received was again different, “I am building a cathedral to glorify God, to build a place of comfort and sanctuary to millions of people for hundreds of years.”
The traveler was now thoroughly confused. He had asked three different people the same question; they all appeared to be doing the same work, shaping the same stones with the same tools, and received three different answers. Intrigued, he continued asking his question. “I am repaying a debt to God. You see, during a plague I prayed for the health of my family, and they were spared, so I am now repaying the promise I made to God,” the next person answered.
“I am feeding my family.”
“I am a slave. I am working so that I will not be beaten.” His eyes fell, and his voice dropped to barely a whisper, “Perhaps one day, I will earn my freedom and be set loose from my bondage.”
“I am spending time with my friends.” He gestured around, grandly. “All my friends are stonecutters, and they spend their whole day here. I do not care much for cutting stones. But, if I want to enjoy their company, I must work here.”
“I am strengthening my body. Hammering stone, and lifting it, is the best way to become strong.” He flexed his muscles, admiringly. “By doing this all day, I hope to become the strongest man in the world.”
Bewildered, he looked around. Everywhere people seemed to be doing the same thing. Yet despite this, no two people had been able to agree on what it was they were doing. Everyone had a different idea of what was happening. He decided to ask one more person. “What are you doing?”
The man looked up, put down his tools, “Right now,” he said, “I am talking to you.”
“Yes,” the traveler replied, impatiently. “But before you started talking to me, what were you doing?”
“I was hammering stone.”
###
We all construct narratives about what we are doing. These narratives are not just explanations; they are the lenses through which we experience our own lives. A job can feel like a means of survival, an obligation, a calling, or an opportunity for connection– depending on the story we tell ourselves. And these narratives are not static—they evolve based on our circumstances, emotions, and the meaning we assign to our experiences. The stories we tell ourselves are sometimes helpful– and sometimes not so helpful. Most of the time though, we don’t even realize that we are telling ourselves a story. The meaning we have made of our life is so ingrained that it is invisible.
We become so enmeshed in our stories that we often forget what it is that we are actually doing. Our brains are so busy making meaning, that we fail to notice what it is that is right in front of us. How often do we notice I am talking to you. I am hammering stone. Our narratives are just that—stories. They may be useful, inspiring, or even necessary, but they are not absolute reality. And if we remember this, perhaps we can approach both our own work and the work of others with greater awareness, curiosity, and understanding.
We build narratives for ourselves and we also build stories about others. The traveler expects a single, unified answer about what the workers are doing, but instead, he encounters a multitude of perspectives. How can people doing the same thing see it so differently? But this is how we all move through the world: we assume we know what others are doing and why, but our interpretations are shaped by our own biases, assumptions, and limited perspectives.
How often do we misinterpret others because we impose our own narratives onto them? And how often do others misunderstand us because they do the same? We might see someone working tirelessly and assume they are ambitious, when in reality, they are simply trying to survive. We might judge someone as indifferent or unmotivated, when their true reason for being there has nothing to do with the work itself. We choose our own meaning, and we project meaning onto others– often without realizing it.
While narratives can be useful (or harmful), its always helpful to simply return to the present. To remind ourselves, I am talking to you. I am hammering stone.
Cheers,
Doc