The Job I Want Is Not a Job

Daily writing prompt
List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.

Gathering, listening, sharing — the only work worth waking for.

If money did not matter, I would not spend my days chasing titles, padding résumés, or stacking years like bricks in a wall. I have done that long enough to know it does not buy peace.

What I would do instead comes down to three simple things.

Circles of conversation begin here—scribbles and presence, not polish.

I would gather.
I see a table—scarred wood, coffee rings, notebooks left open with ink still drying. Chairs pulled close, not in a boardroom but in a living room, a kitchen, a back porch. People showing up raw, without masks or polish. Circles of conversation where presence matters more than performance.

I would listen.
Not half-listen while scrolling, not nodding while waiting for my turn to talk. I mean listening until the room slows down. Letting silence stretch long enough for truth to surface. Asking the kind of questions that do not close a story but open it wider: What broke you open today? Where did you see grace sneak in?

I would share.
Not as an expert, not with answers tied up in neat bows, but with stains and scribbles still showing. Sketches from my desk, stories from my past, fragments of prayer from mornings I could not hold myself together. The scraps that prove I am human and, maybe, remind someone else that they are not alone.

Gathering. Listening. Sharing.
That is the work that would still pull me out of bed if the paycheck vanished. It is not a career. It is not a brand. It comes with no retirement plan and no applause. But it feels like the only work that lasts: the kind that trades hours for presence, moments for meaning, conversations for blessing.

I have led without planning to. I have faced cold truths about what slips away with age. And now I admit this: the job I want is not a job at all. It is a calling disguised as conversation, a life measured in moments, not money.

And you? If money no longer set the terms, what three things would you give yourself to? What table would you set?

Tags: identity, calling, work and meaning, presence, listening, storytelling, gathering, quiet practices, faith, living from the inside out, reflection, spirituality, community

17 thoughts on “The Job I Want Is Not a Job

Add yours

  1. My heart really wants: real connection, presence, honest conversation. I really long for this as I grow older.
    Thank you for naming that tension — and for reminding me that the work worth waking up for isn’t always career-shaped, but relationship-shaped. What a gift this is.
    Lastly i still need the money to clear my debts….

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Ulrich,
      I hear you. The longing for honest connection and the weight of practical debts often live side by side. It is hard to carry both. Thank you for saying it straight—naming the tension without pretending it is easy. Your honesty is part of what makes this table real, not just ideal. I pray you find both freedom in your spirit and relief in your circumstances.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Livora,
      Thank you. That line you offered—presence, not paychecks—could be stitched on the banner above the table. Your reflections always have a way of distilling things to their essence. I am grateful for your steady reminder of what truly matters.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Your words humble me, Grafmr. You live that truth far more deeply than I could ever phrase it—teaching not for pay but for presence. I’m grateful for your example and the light you bring into the classroom and beyond.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Dean, you make me wish I could sit at that table, to learn and to listen.

    Your students are blessed to have you as their teacher. You don’t teach but you guide, you mentor but more than anything you are the living example of what they’d like to grow into.

    As for myself, I genuinely love people.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Iba,
      Your words carry such warmth. I believe you already sit at this table, because genuine love for people is the very center of it. To be near someone who listens and loves well is the greatest gift. Thank you for reminding me that presence itself is a vocation, one you live out with grace.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Iba, the ancients would have called you Anawim — open-hearted. Your honesty shows it. The wound can be a weight, but it can also be a doorway. Whichever way you walk, know you are seen and loved.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I am humbled by that comparison Dean. It has a lovely ring to it, Anawim. It has taken so many stumbles and experiences to reach this space. Self awareness is not easy and remaining open is even less so. Unless we continue to open and receive, we cannot learn. Being wounded is teaching me more than simply being healthy. Every thread that is sewn has a story.

        Thankyou for the reminder that I am loved.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I love this question, Dean. If I did not have to worry about money, I think I would sit at the table of artists and tinkerers. A place where imagination is currency and joy is the feast. I would spend my days planting seeds of hope in people, letting them know there is always more light to be found. I’d create art to my heart’s content, pouring colors, words, and sounds into the world. And I’d tinker with little projects, just for the fun of seeing what new things might be born. Thank you for this reminder—it’s a truth we all carry inside, waiting for the right table to welcome it.🙏🏻❤️‍🔥 Stay blessed .

    Liked by 1 person

    1. JAM,
      Your words make me wonder—maybe this is already the table. You, with your artists and tinkerers. Iba, listening deep. Hilda, steady with presence. Livora, reminding us of beauty. Ulrich, speaking honestly of longings and debts. Even Kalimuthu with his humor, and Sarah with her steady reflections.

      All of us, here in WordPress, pulling chairs close in our own way. Is this the table? 🙂

      Liked by 3 people

  4. I work daily to have the life I love, not work but presently put , do what I love to do and touch others with all I do. I can’t do anything less for any length of time and never have been able to.. now it’s just a bit quieter when kids are all adults but it’s even more fun with grandkids to show and stir up real truths and questions , to talk history and teach them about life that was and is and ask what do they want and how do they see life and implement lessons in that… nothing better!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Kerri, I love the way you describe stirring up real truths and questions with your grandkids. That’s a beautiful legacy — living in love and passing on curiosity and courage. Grateful you shared this.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a comment

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑