“Work with the soil is not a curse; rather is it the highest blessing to all who are thus permitted to enjoy the most human of all human activities.” 66:7.19 (751.14)
Somewhere along the arc of history, work became a punishment. We began to see labor—especially physical labor—as something beneath us, a burden to escape through technology, privilege, or status. But in truth, to work with the soil is to return to something profoundly human.
There’s a holiness in working close to the earth. Whether planting, tending, building, or feeding—these actions restore the dignity of our embodied existence. The soil doesn’t lie. It doesn’t flatter or rush. It simply invites presence, patience, and participation in something bigger than us. To touch the ground is to remember where we came from—and who sustains us.
This is not just about farming. It's about honoring the spiritual dignity of any humble, honest labor. There is no such thing as meaningless work when it’s done with love and alignment. In a world that worships upward mobility, the divine often calls us downward—toward roots, toward rhythm, toward reverence.
