We’ve all heard that whole bit about people looking like their dogs right? You see a man with a sagged, lined face walking his bulldog and it just seems right. We see bits of ourselves reflected in our pets, and that’s why we like having them around.
Sometimes it isn’t just a physical resemblance. It’s certain traits that let us get along so well with these balls of fur and joy. We can learn a lot from the dogs we have around us. A lot of the time they’re a better indicator of ourselves than any psychoanalysis would be.
My dog is absolutely this for me. My family jokes constantly that Reprobus is my “id”. All my energy and impulsiveness bottled and corked into 45 pounds of joy and desire for work. He needs a job to be doing, or he gets himself into trouble. Curiosity and impishness that can only be countered by wearing himself out entirely, and a distrust of new people. I can certainly relate to that, especially the other side of that distrust, which is an almost asinine devotion to people once his border collie brain decides they’re part of the “flock”.
We all need something to devote ourselves to. For some, it’s social interaction or a creative outlet. It’s the thing you do that all other things in life work towards. The thing that you can put everything you are into. For Rep and I, that thing is work itself. Something that physically wears us out to the point of sitting still for longer than ten minutes.
It’s a hard thing to channel for some of us who take part in an outdoor heavy lifestyle. Especially when the workweek takes up most of our time, and the work we do isn’t physically demanding. I worked in an office all through college, and I’d come home with my mind racing and my bones aching for some kind of activity. It got me in trouble a lot. I’d do stupid things out of sheer boredom, and annoy the hell out of anyone around me with an endless stream of consciousness out of my mouth.
Now that I’m back in Baltimore, I’m working for my uncle towing cars. It’s demanding physically and leaves me feeling truly tired after a twelve hour shift. The other day I glanced down at my hands and realized that they were starting to look like my great grandfather’s paws. He worked in a brickyard his whole life and some of my first memories of him involve his hands. Even in his nineties he still had hands like a bear. Albeit a bear covered in grease and clay, or dirt if he’d been working in their garden. We don’t always intend to end up like our family, but sometimes it sneaks up on us, in ways we don’t expect. I have never considered myself to be a hard worker, if anything I’m prone to bouts of laziness. However, having a job to do that allows me to work with my hands all day and come home sweaty and filthy has brought out the work ethic I respected so much about my great grandfather. It’s rewarding in and of itself, rather than being rewarding because of the money or accolades received.
So, how does this apply to you, the reader?
I can’t rightly say. All I know is that if you have the opportunity to work with your hands in some way do it. Find small tasks that require some form of tactical dexterity and apply yourself to them. If you’re mind is racing and you can’t slow it down, physical work draws you out of yourself and into the subject of your efforts. It doesn’t have to be something truly manual. Got an artistic bend? Try some form of sculpture or wood working. If I’m still wired after a day of work lately, I carve and whittle. It’s even better if you can make something you or someone else will have a daily use for.
After my first week of working at Henry’s I found myself restless on the weekend. Even hiking couldn’t wear me out enough to replace the long days of the workweek. So I asked around at work and found a few little projects. Currently I’m working on a walking cane for a coworkers mother.
It adds an extra touch of meaning to a project when it’s for someone else. You’ll find yourself more focused on getting it right, and that’s drive to improve your ability as you go, rather than doing good enough for yourself.
So, get the chaos of your mind out on occasion. Work with something tangible, sweat a little and get a few calluses on your hands. At the very least you’ll end up with a better nights sleep, at best you’ll find the work ethic of physical labor transferred into your daily life. That’s nothing to shake a stick at, carved or otherwise.