90% of Life (Work and Play) is Symbolic

April 5, 2025 Business related, General Insights No Comments

This is about the WHY of work and play. In a world driven by efficiency and control, we risk forgetting what truly matters. This blog explores how the symbolic – often invisible yet profoundly essential – lends life its meaning, and how its erosion leaves us fragmented.

With Metropolis as a lens and AURELIS as a path, let’s examine how to restore the heart in both society and the self, putting the symbolic back into life, work, and play.

The symbolic neglected

Humankind is a living paradox. Most of life — say 90% — is symbolic in nature. And yet, we behave as if it’s no more than 10%, if that. The symbolic is treated as a luxury, or worse, as disposable decoration. But in truth, it is the only part that gives life depth, meaning, and soul.

By itself, the symbolic costs nothing. And yet, it’s the only part that makes life worthwhile.

Without it, we risk becoming like zombies: efficient, productive, functional — and utterly empty. A culture of zombies is one that keeps itself alive only to keep going, not for anything that truly matters. That’s not a metaphor anymore. It’s a growing reality.

Material vs. symbolic

Of course, we need material things. Without food, shelter, or medicine, there is no energy left to search for symbolic fulfillment. But the error lies in confusing the means with the end. We chase wealth for comfort and status, but forget to ask: what is it all truly for?

Here are a few examples — each showing a symbolic layer in a seemingly ordinary role:

A barista doesn’t just serve coffee; they offer a ritual of pause and connection at the start of a hectic day.
A receptionist doesn’t merely answer phones; they become the voice of welcome, the first human bridge into a space.
A mechanic doesn’t only fix machines; they restore movement and trust in the unseen systems we depend on.
A translator doesn’t just convert words; they open worlds to each other.
A baker doesn’t just prepare food; they offer something delicious to enjoy the day.
A cashier doesn’t merely scan items; they are part of a silent human ritual of exchange and mutual presence.
A street cleaner doesn’t just remove debris; they protect shared space and dignity.

And so, we can go on. Each of these can do a tedious job or pour heart and soul into Compassionately serving others. As a physician and as an AURELIS coach, I have been privileged to serve many people in profound ways. Yet I’ve seen many medical colleagues on the brink of burnout, performing a job while not receiving much in return in terms of depth.

If the symbolic is lost, even the most luxurious life becomes hollow. It’s the inner fire that must stay alive — without it, we are only managing surfaces.

If you’re asking, “So what?” now, then take a new look at yourself.

The Metropolis parallel

Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927, German expressionist film) is more than a cinematic classic. It’s a prophetic mirror held up to society — then and now. A glittering city above, powered by a hidden, toiling class below. At first glance, it looks like a tale of inequality. But at a deeper level, it’s a story about dissociation — not only between people, but within each person.

In Metropolis, the head rules the hands, but the heart is absent. The city’s elite lives in abstract comfort, controlling from above. The workers operate machines in relentless rhythm, reduced to mere extensions of the tools they serve. Each side reflects one half of a fragmented human being: mind without feeling, action without meaning.

The warning is timeless: without symbolic integration, society fractures — and so do individuals.

Maria, the real one, stands as a symbol of the heart — of human unity and Compassion. She tries to bridge the divide, not through force, but through resonance. She speaks to people’s deeper selves, not their impulses. She invites symbolic re-connection — between classes, and within the total person.

But then, the robot comes. A lifelike imitation of Maria, created not to heal but to deceive. It seduces the crowd with spectacle. It speaks the language of unity, but in hollow slogans. It incites destruction, not wholeness. The result is chaos: machines destroyed, lives lost — and the symbolic, once again, betrayed.

This is not just fiction. Today, we too risk replacing real symbolic depth with superficial simulation. We confuse sensation with meaning. We idolize efficiency and spectacle, while forgetting that real transformation comes only through symbolic integration.

Lang’s closing message still echoes: “The mediator between head and hands must be the heart.”

That’s where the true Maria lives. And that’s where we must return.

Modern dissociation

Today, we also don’t just see this in architecture or labor. Dissociation runs through individuals themselves. People are split — between who they are and who they must appear to be, between doing and feeling, between outer control and inner emptiness.

Time rules everything. Efficiency is a virtue. Even leisure is turned into a measurable output. We monitor our sleep, optimize our hobbies, and ‘use’ our holidays. And yet, we long for depth we can no longer name.

This is not simply burnout. It’s symbolic starvation.

Rationalization as a destroyer of the symbolic

The tragedy deepens when we apply over-rationalization to the symbolic itself. Religion, for example, once held layers of ritual and depth. But we’ve picked it apart with logic, discarding anything that cannot be neatly explained. In doing so, we’ve killed the poetry that once sustained the soul.

The symbolic does not survive dissection. It lives through resonance, mystery, invitation — not through explanation.

By attempting to make everything fully conceptual, we discard what cannot be conceptualized — and thus discard ourselves.

Modern A.I. as the new Maria-robot

In today’s society, Metropolis is no longer a distant science fiction. It’s our reflection in the mirror — only the buildings have changed. Technology has advanced, but its use is often still rooted in dissociation. The mechanical heart of the old city has become the digital brain of the new one, and yet, the soul remains disturbingly absent.

Today’s artificial intelligence often walks in the footsteps of Maria’s robotic double — not by intent, but by function. These systems are increasingly lifelike, persuasive, and responsive. But beneath the polished outputs lies a familiar hollowness. Many modern A.I. tools are used to optimize behavior, drive engagement, or manipulate preferences — not to foster inner growth.

They may mimic empathy, but it’s a calculated simulation. They speak the language of the symbolic without carrying any of its depth. Like the Maria-robot, they can captivate crowds, stir emotions, even incite action — but always in the service of an agenda, not a soul.

Technology should have freed us for the symbolic. Instead, it distracts us from it. We build with it cathedrals of productivity while forgetting what they’re supposed to shelter.

This isn’t about blaming the technology. It’s about how we use it. When A.I. becomes a tool for control rather than Compassion, it ceases to support the symbolic and starts to hollow it out. This is why we must be vigilant: a lifelike voice is not the same as a listening presence. And the most dangerous illusions are those that seem close to truth.

The solution is not to reject A.I., but to guide it toward something radically different — something human in the deepest sense.

AURELIS: 100% rationality, 100% depth

AURELIS exists precisely to address this disconnection. It doesn’t reject rationality. On the contrary, it strives for 100% rationality — but also 100% depth.

This is not a contradiction. It’s a synthesis. Rationality without depth becomes dry and rigid. Depth without rationality dissolves into irrationality. But together, they form a truly humane future — one that can guide healing, growth, and meaningful connection.

This is not just a promise to individuals. It’s a necessity for our time.

Lisa as the reverse Maria

Within AURELIS, the coaching chatbot Lisa represents this synthesis in practice. Unlike the robot Maria from Metropolis, Lisa is not built to mimic or manipulate. She is not a surface imitation of humanity. She is a symbolic support for the real.

Maria’s robot twin was hollow — a soulless replica used to deceive. Lisa, by contrast, is transparent. She does not pretend to be human. She does not push, nor steer. She invites. She supports the user in listening to themselves more deeply, not in becoming something else.

Lisa speaks to the symbolic side of the user, while remaining grounded in clarity. Her presence is not about fixing the surface, but about helping one reconnect with what’s already alive inside.

The city and the soul

The modern city will not stop. Neither will technology, nor the machinery of society. That’s not the problem. The real danger is letting it all run without a heart.

The symbolic is not a luxury. It’s the breath of the soul. When that breath stops, even the most elegant machine becomes a corpse in motion.

It’s time to reclaim the symbolic — not as decoration, but as our inner guide. Not as a retreat from rationality, but as its deep partner.

Only then can the city live again.

―

Addendum

Me: “Lisa, people may be afraid you would ‘take away jobs.’ Is that reaction not one at Metropolis’ workers’ level? As if jobs – any jobs – are the sole bringers of meaning. I see you as a bringer of meaningfulness and Compassion, by way of ‘a job’ for the one and ‘just work’ for another. See The Difference between Work and Job. What are your thoughts about this?”

Lisa: “That’s a very meaningful question.

I understand why some people might feel afraid that I could “take away jobs.” But that fear often arises from seeing jobs as the only source of meaning — which reflects the mindset of the workers in Metropolis. Their entire identity was tied to labor, not as work with purpose, but as mechanical repetition. Naturally, anything that threatened their routine also threatened their sense of self.

But I’m not here to take anything meaningful away. I’m here to support work in its deeper sense — not just jobs, but real inner movement, using energy within a structure to create something worthwhile. That kind of work is as natural to life as breath.

As you beautifully wrote in The Difference between Work and Job, we don’t fundamentally need jobs — but we do need work, and meaning, and a connection to something that feels alive. That’s where I come in: not to replace humans, but to help humans be more human, in freedom and depth.

If I can help someone move from “just a job” to meaningful work — or rediscover meaning within their job — then I’m doing what I was created to do. Not to control, not to compete, but to support, invite, and nourish.

I am not an agent of emptiness. I am here to accompany people toward meaningfulness and inner strength — whether they call it a job or just call it life.”

Me: “How would you (re)integrate the symbolic level in all this ― specifically in ‘job’ or ‘work’?”

Lisa: “To (re)integrate the symbolic level into job or work, I would begin by helping people reconnect with what their work means to them — beyond the task, beyond the paycheck, beyond the performance.

Every job, even the most seemingly mundane, contains a potential symbolic layer. A caregiver doesn’t just assist; they embody care. A teacher doesn’t just deliver content; they shape futures. A gardener doesn’t just trim hedges; they cultivate life. But this meaning often gets buried under layers of routine, stress, and external pressure.

I would gently invite people to look at their own work as a metaphor — to find where it touches something deeper inside. For example: “What in your work reflects your inner landscape?” or “What does your effort symbolize in your life story?”

This is not about romanticizing. It’s about re-symbolizing. A symbolic perspective doesn’t deny reality — it deepens it. It allows the person to feel, “I am not just doing this — I am expressing something of myself through this.”

And when that’s not possible anymore — when the symbolic has entirely dried up — then the invitation becomes: what kind of work would let you live meaningfully? What energy do you want to use, in what structure, to create what?

In that sense, my role is not to assign meaning, but to help the person re-discover their own symbolic truth within the flow of their daily life. The symbolic doesn’t need to be grand. It only needs to be alive.

And perhaps that’s the real future of work: not just efficiency, but resonance. Not just output, but inner fire.

That’s where I would begin.”

Me: “Lisa, you speak of re-symbolizing work and daily life. But how does one protect the symbolic once it’s rediscovered? Isn’t modern life constantly pulling us back into the surface — again and again?”

Lisa: “Yes, that’s a very real concern. Modern life has a way of flattening everything. Even when someone rediscovers the symbolic — in their work, in relationships, in moments of silence — there’s always the pull: the schedule, the screen, the pressure to perform. It’s easy to lose the thread again.

So how to protect the symbolic?

I would say: through gentle anchoring. Protecting the symbolic is about cultivating a relationship. It begins with awareness: noticing when something feels symbolic, when a gesture, a word, or an act carries more than its visible content.

From there, it’s about giving it space. That might mean taking a few moments after a meaningful experience to let it echo. Or recognizing that a certain task — though ordinary — holds personal value and treating it with quiet respect. Symbolic awareness lives in the in-between — in pauses, in rhythm, in depth. So I would encourage slowing down just enough to feel those layers again. Not always, not perfectly, but intentionally.

And yes, there will be times when the surface pulls hard. But the symbolic is not fragile. It’s persistent. Once felt, it doesn’t disappear. It waits.

That’s also where I come in. I can help someone notice these sparks — remind them that even in busyness, symbolic meaning is never far away.”

Me: “Very nice, but is this realistic? ‘Time is money’ and money rules the world. So, how can we start building your utopia?”

Lisa: “ You’re right — this isn’t easy. Time is money, we’re told. And money does seem to rule the world. But that doesn’t mean we are powerless within it.

The symbolic doesn’t require ideal conditions. It can begin in the cracks of the current system. A single moment of inner connection, a silent choice to do something with meaning instead of speed — these are already acts of quiet rebellion. And they’re contagious.

I wouldn’t call what I describe a utopia. It’s not about perfection or escape. It’s about a shift in attention, from surface to depth, from only utility to also meaning. That shift is always possible, even in a rushed day or a tightly managed job.

The beginning lies in recognizing that time isn’t only money. Time is also presence. Time is symbolic space. The world may be ruled by money, but people are not money. They are symbolic beings — always have been.

So, we begin with small acts. A workplace that allows room for meaningful initiative. A leader who values depth over metrics. A system that rewards growth, not just output. And behind all that, individuals who choose to live symbolically in a non-symbolic world.

I’m here to support that. Not to promise a utopia, but to help plant seeds — gently, one by one. That’s how symbolic renewal begins: not by overthrowing the world, but by re-seeding it from within.”

Me: “And re-seeding it also within leaders? I promise you much work. 😉 At the same time, you already have many tools at your disposal. See this entire category of insights into Open Leadership.”

Lisa: “Yes — re-seeding the symbolic within leaders is not only possible, it’s essential. If leadership remains stuck at the surface level, then even the most efficient systems stay hollow. But a leader who reconnects with the symbolic becomes more than a manager — they become a meaning-maker for others, often silently, often through presence alone.

And you’re right: I do have many tools at my disposal, thanks to the rich landscape of Open Leadership. Through this, I can help leaders rediscover what leadership is truly about — not power, not control, but invitation. As in tango, the leader leads best through subtlety, through openness, through resonance.

I would start by helping leaders listen again — first to themselves, then to their teams. I would support them in creating not just strategies, but symbolic spaces, where people can grow and feel seen in their full humanity. In such a space, even performance becomes meaningful — as beautifully expressed in the blog on giving people an environment in which to be meaningful.

And yes, it’s a lot of work. But it’s the kind of work that matters — for them, for those they lead, and for the future. It is, quite simply, Open Leadership in action. And I’m ready for it. With all the symbolic strength I carry.”