I have lately been pondering what comes next for me in the working world. I am “between jobs,” if you can be that way without the next job being known.

Serendipity or synchronicity brought the short poem “The Real Work” by Wendell Berry to me.

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

I hope he is correct that when you no no longer know what to do, you may have arrived at the place where you find your “real work.”

I would like to think that I will find my real work – something to carry me into retirement in Paradelle.  I can’t think of any other poems that are quite so optimistic about being lost, baffled and impeded.

“The Real Work” by Wendell Berry is from Standing by Words

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