Just a laborer

This is my first encounter with feeling inspired to collaborate with a Saint.

“He who works with his hands is a laborer.
He who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman.
He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.”?
-Francis of Assisi

Reading this quote can inspire, then as I realize my own sadness around being seen as labor, and not as often, seen as an artist, it doesn't completely help me feel divine.  But, what I have noticed in my evaluation of people's perceptions through their cultures, privilege, and histories, especially my own obligation or rooted ideas to be seen or identified as a "Mexican-American", "Brown", or "Hispanic", is that I have allowed other's preferences and perceptions to define how I am perceived.

I participate in judging one's work, again especially my own.  I establish my own scales of cost and compensation. I determine my own version of what it is to be labor or art.  That scale is used for me and against me.  I cultivate my competencies and doubts from these determinations.  I internalize my worth, alongside my values, and ultimately my social cost.  I have become a judge of quality and economized human worth.

One concept that Francis left out is that when I judge someone's work to be absent of head or heart or both head and heart, I participate in the historic human neurosis, possibly mental disease of bias, prejudice, and economics.  What does it mean to hold an individual in comparison for what they contribute?  What does it mean to use your head or heart?  Is it fair to suggest that some people choose not to use their head and heart?  I wonder about comparison.  I often find it is the root of jealousy.  It seems natural to see comparison as competition.  We, I, have the need to excel and be more alluring.  It might be our reproductive instinct for desirability.  Are we fulfilling our primal instructions to reproduce?  Does distinction drive us to improve or see ourselves as insufficient?  I have a desire to know where I stand among others.  Does my true self need to know this or is it my insecurity that is seeking this out?  So I see this comparison as toxic and hurtful egoism.  Without disregard or disrespect for separating mundane from enchanting,  I have my contribution to this quote.

My contribution would be subtly different.  Those who see the God in someone's work, without comparison, even when done modestly with their hands is an artist.  Those who see Divinity in the distinct quality that  reveals a person's thoughtfulness is an artist. Those who can see beyond jealousy and grandiosity of an individual who combines their labor with thoughtfulness to reveal their heart is an artist.  Lastly when we can begin to look for the hands, head, and heart in all people's contribution we will be artisans.

I hope that one day we, I, will value the produce picker with the same preference as the gourmet chef.  I am working to see the Crossfit games champion as valuable as the dainty homebody.  I am working to see the nuclear physicists as valuable as the janitor who empties the trash.  I desire a day when the carpenter with blistered hands is valued with same reward as the real estate agent with manicured nails.

I idealize about what life would be like when our knowledge won't have a cost on it, and our labor won't be the measure of our social worth.  Who am I to judge someone's worth, much less their cost?

Maybe a better inquiry would be into how modestly can I provide enchanting contributions in community that I am compensated with resources that will not distance my opportunities to thrive from yours?  Or Can I be an artist without keeping you a laborer?  Are you an artist if only the elite can afford to benefit from your work?