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How do you define work?

Sounds like a simple question. It’s what you do for money, right?

For years, my definition of work has meant building things with stone. Hard, physical labor. If I wasn’t exhausted at the end of the day, it didn’t feel like real work. If I wasn’t getting paid as a direct result of that labor, it didn’t count.

That’s a narrow way of thinking, but I’m trying to expand it.

When I was young, once in a while my grandfather, great uncle, and their friend Oscar would take me golfing. Sort of. I’d walk the nine-hole course with them, twice, while they played. I loved it. I didn’t learn much about golf. I was too busy hunting for golf balls.

As we moved from hole to hole, I’d walk along the edges of the course, where the grass met the woods. I learned all the best spots where people lost their balls. By the time the round was over, I’d have a stash that I’d sell back to the clubhouse. I don’t remember how much they’d give me, but it was enough to make my sister jealous. I felt rich.

Somehow, I lost that way of thinking.

How did I come to believe the right way to work was trading labor for an hourly wage?

How do I find those golf balls again?