ON WORK
In 2022 we created a pair of fundraiser oils adapting a chapter from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet into scent. Considering the challenges that await in 2025, we’ve decided to continue this work with a monthly series of fragrances that will gradually complete the entire book.
Proceeds from these scents will be donated to a series of trustworthy charitable organizations, selected month by month; everything above the cost of production will be donated.
First published in 1923, The Prophet (Gutenberg Press link) has been translated into more than 100 languages, continuing to inspire new readers with its lyrical observations of human nature and open-ended spiritual instruction.
The book imagines a series of pronouncements offered by the sage Almustafa (“the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn unto his own day”) to inhabitants of the fictional city Orphalese as a gesture of gratitude for their hospitality during his twelve-year stay. One by one, various citizens step forward and ask for Almustafa’s thoughts on a long list of topics such as love, death, commerce, justice, and religion.
The Prophet responds with wisdom that could be considered non-denominational, though clearly influenced by the Lebanese author’s familiarity with Sufi and Maronite beliefs as well as the work of Transcendentalist poets. After satisfying the Orphalesians’ many queries, at last he boards a ship setting sail for his homeland.
Since Gibran set these events outside of any known time or geographical location, Almustafa’s wisdom can be received today, or in the future, and ring just as true.
You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life’s procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.
When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?
Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.
But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth’s furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,
And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life,
And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life’s inmost secret.
But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the flesh a curse written upon your brow, then I answer that naught but the sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written.
You have been told also that life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary.
And I say that life is indeed darkness ‘save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love;
And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.
And what is it to work with love?
It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.
It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.
It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,
And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.
Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, “He who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is nobler than he who ploughs the soil. And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet.”
But I say, not in sleep but in the overwakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades of grass;
And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.
Work is love made visible.
And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.
For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man’s hunger.
And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distils a poison in the wine. And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man’s ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.
