Steve Jobs

We took the family to the library last week. On the way out, a book caught my eye and I grabbed it. A biography on Steve Jobs by Patricia Lakin. I read through it that night.

I had heard a lot about Steve, but hadn't ever read much about his life. He's extremely impressive. Like anyone else, he had his weaknesses, but here's a little of what I found worth knowing and trying to emulate.

He summed up certain portions of his life in a commencement speech at Stanford in 2005. Summarizing that speech, Patricia tells us,

He told the graduates three stories. The first, he said, was about connecting the dots. For the first time Steve publicly spoke of his adoption by his devoted and loving parents, Paul and Clara. He then told of dropping out of college but dropping in on an amazing calligraphy class at Reed. He urged the graduates to let their life's path be guided by their gut intuitions and their passions. If they did, they'd look back and realize how their own random "dots" or life experiences would connect for them in meaningful and surprising ways. As for choosing a life path, he felt the key was finding what you love and pursuing it passionately.

In the calligraphy class, Steve learned a lot about fonts, spacings, and artistic beauty, all of which were instrumental in designing the Mac computer, particularly in creating a set of fonts based on the calligraphy he learned. Those fonts Apple created were copied by Windows, so Steve's random calligraphy class has touched millions, perhaps billions, of people. Patricia continues,

The second story told of his love for the work he was doing, his shame at being ousted from Apple, but how freeing it ultimately was. He said, "The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life." In addition to talking about starting NeXT and acquiring Pixar, he mentioned his wife and children as being an important part of this creative period.

Steve's third story was about death. He regarded is as a great "invention," for it cleared out the old generation and made room for the new. He also recounted his philosophy of using death to evaluate how he was about to spend his day. "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life ... Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.... There is no reason not to follow your heart."

Regarding death, Steve said in that speech,

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

For all Steve's weaknesses - and like all of us, he had many - I think his philosophy and approach to life had a lot to do with his success. The world is a different place because of him. I think I could be more productive and have a more positive impact on the world if I imbibed more of his philosophy on death, passion, and trust.

One last quote from that speech:

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

Thanks Steve. And thanks Patricia for giving me a little insight into Steve's life. As a final tribute to Steve, Patricia ends her book with the words from one of Apple's ads called "Think Different:"

Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. While some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do.

Lessons from Earthsea

I recently watched a two-part miniseries called Earthsea. A little weird, some parts I definitely don't recommend, but parts of it have given me some things to think about. And it's time to document those thoughts.

The show is based on a series of books by Ursula LeGuin. I was first exposed to her writings a couple years ago when I heard about and later read her short story entitled The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas. I was very impressed by her writing and philosophy.

The story of Earthsea revolves around a wizard named Ged who fulfills a prophecy to repair a mystical amulet with power to keep evil at bay ... I'm going to really gloss over a lot of details here. The ultimate reconciliation takes place between him, representing the wizarding world, and a priestess representing the power of faith. Both of these worlds seem to be at conflict with a military power that neither respects nor practices either magic or faith.

There are a lot of really powerful themes and symbols to be explored given that framework, but the one I've been thinking about the most concerns a reconciliation and acceptance on a personal level. Ged, our friendly wizard, summons an evil being as the result of a dare. He didn't intend to summon something evil, but this being, called a Gebbeth, ends up hunting him and for a good part of the story, he finds himself on the run. Eventually, he decides to become the hunter and, though unsuccessful in his first encounter with the Gebbeth, near the end, he recognizes that the Gebbeth is actually a reflection of the evil within himself. He accepts the existence of the evil and decides to 'own' the Gebbeth instead of being owned by it. The two bodies merge into one and Ged, now much stronger, is able to finish his task of reuniting the amulet.

It reminded me of the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde where the opposite occurs. By attempting to separate the evil part of his nature from the good, Dr. Jekyll ultimately succumbs to the evil nature within and becomes Mr. Hyde. Ged, on the other hand, accepted the evil within himself and rather than seeking to cast it from him, he made it his servant. I think there's a lot of truth in these stories. We all have evil within us, but rather than trying to take that part of who we are and eject it, perhaps the solution is to mold it, to own it, to turn a weakness into a strength, to turn vice into virtue. Rather than being half a human by attempting to eradicate evil, perhaps we need to focus on maintaining our whole soul and molding the evil or weakness within to serve virtue.

A scripture in the Book of Mormon has come to mind several times as I've been thinking along these lines. From Ether 12:27:

... if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

I've also been thinking of a book by C.S. Lewis called The Great Divorce. The story is a fantasy dream of the author traveling from hell to heaven and describes some of Lewis' thoughts on what heaven and hell are really like; some of it would likely surprise many Christians. It's a great book. One part tells of a soul who is burdened by an imp that sits on his shoulder and whispers things in his ear. This man, now a spirit attempting to progress and enter heaven, is speaking with an angel who claims to have the power to kill the imp, but can only do so with the man's permission. As the conversation progresses, it becomes clear that the imp represents lust.

As the man begins to sway toward accepting the angel's invitation, the imp reminds the man of how long they have been together and how much he relies on the imp. He tells the man the angel does have the power to kill him, but because they are so closely connected, if the imp dies, the man will die as well. The man begins to revert to his original position when the angel challenges him by asking if it wouldn't be better to die than to live another day with the imp. The man agrees that it would be better to die than to hear anymore of the imp's whisperings and gives the angel permission to kill the imp. When the angel grabs the imp, both the imp and the man scream and the man crumples in a heap as the angel casts the imp to the ground. Though it appears that both are dead, as the author looks on, the imp begins to transform into a beautiful horse who, when the man revives, carries the man to a beautiful city, representing the home of God, far in the distance. The man's change of heart allows a divine power to intervene and transform what was a crippling weakness into a magnificent strength and the man is able to progress much  more rapidly toward his ultimate goal.

I think we, as humans, being a mix of good and evil, have an opportunity to accept the weaknesses we've been given and seek to turn them into strengths. I have at times tried to cast my evil inclinations far from me, but I find that doesn't work very well. Ultimately, they come back with added power and seek to overwhelm me. I've been much more successful in living a life of virtue when I accept my weaknesses and seek to own and mold them rather than allowing them to master me. Running from them, like Ged did initially, doesn't work. Running from situations that encourage the weakness can be wise, but that's a little different. Seeking to separate our weaknesses from who we are and destroy them, like Dr. Jekyll attempted, doesn't seem to work either. Only by reconciling ourselves with them and owning them, as Ged did at the end of his story, are we able to overcome the evil and, as with Ged and the man in Lewis' story, those weaknesses often become great sources of strength when properly understood, accepted, and aligned with a virtuous will.

That's what I think anyway. What do you think?