The Paycheck May Fade, But This Won’t

What job would you do for free?

What Job Is Worth Doing for Free?

I teach art. Not for the paycheck—though it does help pay the bills and allow Lindsey and I to get away once in a while—but because creating is essential to who I am. I create with children not for grades, not for portfolios, and certainly not for glitter-dusted report cards. (Glitter, I’ve learned, has the uncanny ability to migrate. You’ll find it in your shoes, your steering wheel, and—eventually—your oatmeal.)

I teach art for the joy. The deep, human joy that comes when someone stands back from something they’ve created and recognizes a piece of themselves in it. That moment when a child sees the result of their labor, and thinks, “Yes… that came from me.”

That’s fuel.

Over time, I’ve found a way to turn this job into a kind of sacred rhythm—a daily act of paying attention, of setting things apart. Anthropologist Ellen Dissanayake speaks of how we humans are not merely tool-users, but mark-makers. We make things special. We adorn, arrange, and elevate. We create not just to survive, but to make meaning. That’s what we do in the art room—quietly, imperfectly, joyfully.

And if the paycheck vanished tomorrow? I’d still do it. But I’d do it differently. No bells, no hall passes, no bureaucratic choreography. Just a space filled with light, raw materials, and open hearts. I’d invite people in—young and old—and we’d create not for a grade, but for the soul’s good health.

I’d keep feeding people, too. With food, yes—but also with presence. With conversation. With welcome. One of the richest experiences of my life was working with a Vietnam and Desert Storm veteran to help him record his life stories for his sons. It took four years. It didn’t pay a cent. But it was filled with the kind of meaning that can’t be measured. His words mattered. I was simply there to catch them.

I’d host gatherings—not gala events or gallery shows, but humble, human spaces. Soup simmering on the stove. Art making materials at the ready. A table where stories are passed along like bread. People coming not to impress, but to connect. To remember that they are still creative beings.

So, what job is worth doing for free?

The one that keeps your soul awake.
The one that helps others feel seen.
The one that feels like love expressed with your hands.

I look forward to seeing the many and varied answers to this prompt from the WordPress writing community. 

What would you keep doing even if the paycheck disappeared?

What kind of work feeds you and others at the same time?

Have you said yes to your truest calling yet?  What is it?

Thank you for your time here.  It is meaningful.

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