Over time, I have come to call the places where I work the places where I worship—my altars. The worktable in my room. My kitchen station. My espresso bar. “Altars” is the closest word I have found for them.
No, work itself is not worship. What I do in those places is: the attempt to become better at what I love, and to find tranquillity and purpose through that effort.
For many people, worship is a way of finding comfort. Or, perhaps more precisely, whatever gives a person comfort and fulfilment can become a kind of worship. Mine takes the form of introspection—praying now and then for peace and the right path, in a reflective recitation to myself.
Another important part has always been the “followers” of this religion: the people who practise it, and the mentors who inducted me into it. Over time I realised that where you came from, or what you looked like, did not matter. What mattered was respect for the person standing beside you, and knowing your work well.
I call the places where I work altars because that is where I pursue my purpose.