Several years ago, somewhere in the jumble of literature that made up my world, I stumbled onto these lines:
"But yield who will to their separation,/
My object in living is to unite/
My avocation and my vocation/
As my two eyes make one in sight./
Only where love and need are one,/
And the work is play for mortal stakes,/
Is the deed ever really done/
For Heaven and the future's sakes."
-- Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time.
Since that day, I've been frantically searching for their realization: the moment when love and need, self and other, work and play, selfishness and self-sacrifice are one.