As important as it was to be prepared, I still needed to work on the reason why I needed to be prepared. I needed an idea to incubate. Choosing the right idea was critical, I didn’t want to finish the walk only to discover that my mind had figuratively walked in the wrong direction, even if my sore legs made it quite clear they had taken me to Sydney.

With that in mind, I now invite you to think about what topic or idea you would choose to ponder for the duration of almost one thousand kilometres walk. As you do, remember Rules One and Two: you will be alone with your thoughts for as long as it takes you to walk the distance. And you will get bored.

Readers of early drafts of this book shared their ideas and personal introspections. These included pondering on “why I do the things I do?”, explore ways of managing conflict between individual and collective behaviour, seek a better relationship with oneself and others, as well as finding the inspiration to write music and pursue hobbies.

If we ever cross paths, I would love to hear what your idea was.

In my case, I wanted to develop an idea about the environments that would support our future working lives. As part of this I would consider where we work with a much broader application than just the office of the future. To achieve this, I needed a good understanding of the meaning and nature of work itself, particularly in relation to the much talked about job substitution that cognitive computing is expected to bring [25].

I found the most suitable metaphor for my pilgrimage in the tale of Sisyphus. Who’s that? In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a cunning man best known for the punishment he received from the Greek gods for his many misdemeanours: to push a large boulder up a hill, only for it to roll back down when it reached the top. Then repeat the task over and over, for eternity.

Sisyphus’ punishment illustrates the lack of purpose and meaning that can be experienced in various work-related tasks, or with life at large.

At its most basic level, the story of Sisyphus encouraged me to reflect on what might come from doing something as meaningless as putting one foot in front of the other, over and over, for what seemed like an eternity. But more than that, his onerous punishment served as the backdrop to my idea: to find purpose in an era of increasingly automated work, not only in the domains of physical work of assembly lines, but also in cognitive activities of office workers.

Imagine if Sisyphus’ boulder was put on a conveyor belt that took it up and down the hill automatically, he might experience some immediate relief, perhaps joy, followed by a well-deserved rest. But then what?

In The function and meaning of work and the job [26], a classic study on organisational psychology, the researchers hypothetically removed the economic function of work by creating scenarios in which people didn’t need to work for money. Surprisingly, 80% of people in the study said they would still keep working. The study concluded that even if workers had enough money to support themselves, they would still value work in avoiding boredom, keeping ties to society, promoting personal fulfilment, and maintaining a sense of well-being.

The meaning of work has intrigued psychologists, sociologists, economists, and organisational scholars for decades and it has inspired philosophers for centuries [27]. Architects do not tend to appear in such lists; nevertheless, we could design better places to work if we understood their meaning as much as their function.

Consequently, I named my pilgrimage Sisyphus goes to Sydney and a new signpost raised:

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