We never know what we have until it’s gone. And even more devastating, we never seem to fully appreciate the lives of others until their death finally opens our eyes.
I became aware of this startling reality just this past week and it left an awful taste in my mouth. I became aware of it the moment that Steve Jobs, a man of a thousand legacies, passed away last Wednesday, October 5. Many things shocked me at that moment. For one, this man died at the mere age of 56, with almost half his life left unlived. A mind like his should not have an expiration date. But more shocking than that was the fact that I had known almost nothing about him a week and a half ago.
Of course I had known that he was the co-founder of the great Apple Inc. and that he was one of the people who had designed and developed the first successful personal computers all those years ago (or not so long ago). I had heard his name several times before, but only when it followed a mouthwatering description of a new Apple gadget or when my mother emailed me a copy of his Stanford University Commencement speech… when I was nine years old. So that is what I saw him as for all those years: a name; not a person. In a manner of speaking, I knew that this flower existed, but I had no clue how deep its roots reached or how far its seeds spread.
For example, I had no clue that Steve Jobs had in fact been put up for adoption after his birth parents were prohibited from marrying, or that he was the co-founder and former chief executive of Pixar Animation Studios. And I still cannot fully believe that he was Buddhist. My utter ignorance bothers me to no end.
Because of it, the genius behind the iPod never had a face or a story. If I had just understood him a little better, maybe when I was shuffling through my playlists, I could have realized that I was also peeking into one of the most brilliant minds on Earth. Or maybe I could have followed his brave struggle with cancer and meaningfully connected it to my life at that time. But all this came too late.
Why? Why does realization always have to hit us after the fact? Perhaps it takes a concrete publication of a person’s life, like the whole Bloomberg Businessweek edition dedicated solely to the story of Steve Jobs which came out the day after he died, for us to sit down and say with certainty, “Yes, he was a good man.” Perhaps we cannot fully appreciate what all someone has done while they are still alive because, heck, they’re still alive… they still have time to screw everything up.
Now, I don’t know whether it is the worst thing that I never knew much about Steve Jobs until now. I don’t know if it is really reasonable and attainable to immerse ourselves in everyone else while they are still alive. But, I do know that death should not be our wake-up call. We should always try to appreciate the mind and stories of all those around us, no matter what’s going on in ours. I personally owe it to Steve Jobs to do that much.
SO TRUE! I re-realize that every time i move... :( great job anya you're a great thinker. although i've heard some things about steve jobs (recently, because of his death) that made me respect him less.. such as how he treats some employees!
ReplyDeleteAww, thanks Abi! And, yes I've heard some things about Steve Jobs too like how he was a bit of a tyrant... but, hey, we all got our flaws :) haha
ReplyDeleteHello Anya, I definitely agree with the idea of appreciating the minds and stories around us always, but as we discussed in Our Town, this is rather difficult.
ReplyDeleteBut before I begin I would just like to point out that it is quite ironic how death could be a wake-up call for many people. And even then, I think, many people simply claim to ‘always remember Steve Jobs’ and post ‘R.I.P. Steve Jobs’ as their statuses on Facebook and don’t really care. I know I’ve done something like this a number of times, and I’m sure many other people do too to sound smart, seem cool, or jump on the bandwagon. Still, I realize that Steve Jobs will be missed dearly, whether it is through personal experiences with him (as if many of us have had those) or his products. Truly, rest in peace.
Back on the topic of always appreciating what’s around us, there are too many things, in my opinion, for this to be feasible. After all, what is a second? Do we notice everything that goes on in a second? What is my dad doing as I type this comment? He may be having the time of his life right outside that door, and I may never hear of it. There is a literal wall that separates us from each other, and I cannot watch everything that happens around me, nor can I hear everything that happens. So how can we appreciate the beauty of everyone’s mind and stories?
I realize that appreciating the mind and stories of everyone around us does not equate to knowing every single thing about a person. To be quite frank, that would be scary to a stalker-ish extent. Regardless, I can go back to Our Town and connect the actions of the girl who died and attempted to return with this idea. It is a beautiful thing to live, most people seem to think, but what happens when the breath of life fades? Are we left sitting in lonely chairs, doing nothing but watching what happens in the world of the living? Emily (the girl) refused to lie and wait; she returned to life. The experience of dying once made her realize how precious life was, and how quickly everyone sped through it. She couldn’t continue to live after seeing how much there was to be appreciated in so little time. And so she returned.
My view in life, not that I am forcing a philosophy upon anyone, is that life is indeed “a tale told by an idiot” but our most precious gift. And as every living thing should have a right to live, every living thing should have a right to express itself. And as every living thing should have a right to express itself, every living thing should have a right to tell its story and be remembered. I guess my point is that, just like it is in a foreign language, it’s difficult --- if not impossible to catch everything. But we can respect the lives of others, each worth all the gold in the world and more, by remembering their beauty (not only physical), mind, and story.