At dawn, when I have trouble getting
out of bed, I tell myself: “I have to go to work — as a human being. What do I
have to complain of, if I’m going to do what I was born for — the things I was
brought into the world to do? Or is this
what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay warm?” I ask, “Was I born to feel “nice”? Instead of
doing things and experiencing them? Don’t I see the plants, the birds, the ants
and spiders and bees going about their individual tasks, putting the world in
order, as best they can? Am I not willing to do my job as a human being? Why
aren’t I running to do what my nature demands? I remind myself of my defining characteristic— what defines all
human beings — the need to work with others.