Monday, October 10, 2011

Steve Jobs and the Zen of being who you were meant to be

Most people that have known me for any length of time would consider me to be a “fan” of Steve Jobs; that perception would not be entirely accurate. Like many, I felt a kinship with the good Mr. Jobs that is difficult to articulate, but objectively, what do I have in common with a man that lived his life to the fullest and was able to succeed at exactly what he wanted to do. So far, the answer is: not much.
I’ve lived for more decades than I care to admit and my success at various career(s) are not relatable to Steve’s success. I’ve been a musician, got some radio airplay forever ago, a graphic artist for various companies, an IT Director where I helped a company grow from 79 employees to 416 in less than 3 years, CEO of a couple of tech startups, and a filmmaker. While my work for others has seen their fortunes grow, I have, as yet, to see my fortunes offer the kind of stability that would contribute to any feeling of security. Like most of you reading this, I often find myself “sweating it.”
How does any of this have anything to do with Steve? I’m a writer and musician, yet I have spent the majority of my life working “real jobs” at the behest of others, on some sort of societal level at the very least. I never gave up being a writer or musician in my mind, but I have spent only a few years out of decades of work experience doing what I was meant to do. In my opinion, Steve never did that, and that’s what made him the best at what he did. He did what he was meant to do, and he consistently made himself better at it. I made myself a better writer and musician and consistently did something else. Was I wrong in doing what I needed to do to get by? Looking back, I would have to say that yes, I was absolutely wrong.
The universe gives us all a certain predisposition to something. For some, it’s breaking down an engine and putting it back together blindfolded. For some, it’s the ability to slice the perfect piece of fish and add a little rice vinegar, rice, and wasabi to make nigiri. For others it could be welding the perfect joint—every time. For me, it was writing; yet I did not write. What kind of person ignores what they are supposed to do you may ask? I have the answer to that … I know … I know—an unsuccessful person. I could be the best damn IT Director in the world, and I was very good at what I did, but why should the universe, or karma, or whatever, reward me for doing something I wasn’t meant to do. The answer is, of course, it shouldn’t. The fact that I worked hard at it and had certain gifts in the field shouldn’t matter, since if I sat back and took an honest gander at right and wrong, what I was doing wasn’t right. I was shitting on my abilities by not pursuing them.
Steve pursued his abilities and for the limited time he was here, he gave a lot to this world. 
It’s probably our job to give what we can to the world, too. I mean, why should the world reward us otherwise. 
Sometimes it’s easier to observe these things from a distance. I have a friend, he’s a painter. In my humble opinion, he’s the best modern painter I have seen. His paintings move me … seriously, in my heart they mean something to me I can’t even put into words. He’s an artist. Only he’s not; he manages the ad design personnel at a newspaper. I can see how he needs to be who he is—an artist. It’s so fucking obvious.
It’s obvious because it’s not me.
I shouldn’t have been successful at what I was doing because it wasn’t what I was made to do, I wasn’t being who I was supposed to be.
But I am a writer now.
I am in the process of living my life as I was meant to; universe, now it’s your turn to make this right. Come on karma, give me a chance, I’m doing my part.
Steve, if you would, put in the good word to whoever has some pull in your Nirvana, tell them, “Hey, this guy finally got it through his thick head.”
I’d really appreciate it.
Oh, and Steve … chill. You’ve earned it.

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