Tech-SHIZZLE

Jobs

It is with shortness of breath and some trepidation that I finish Steve Jobs, by Walter Isaacson. Certainly the work is a sweeping and thorough exploration of the man that is (rightfully) now placed on the short list of great innovators, who belongs in the same sentence as Henry Ford and Walt Disney. No matter what your inclination or opinion, it is without hyperbole that I write that, and I don’t think there is much room there for argument.

Sure, his passing didn’t come unexpectedly. But like most passings, it invites a reflection on the finiteness of our time here, and how we will spend what time we have. I don’t want to spend any time reciting the man’s accomplishments, strengths, or talents, but I do want to consider how those talents affect us and how we spend our time.

Nietzsche said that all philosophy is autobiography. With that I agree, and would restate it to say that we assign meanings based on our own individual history and experience. We see ourselves in all things. What something means to me may be different than what it means to you since we have different life experiences. Furthermore, the meaning intended by the creator can be irrelevant. All that matters to me is what does the creation mean to me.

So what meaning can we assign to Jobs’ creation and life itself? As he told Isaacson, “It’s about trying to express something in the only way that most of us know how-because we can’t write Bob Dylan songs or Tom Stoppard plays. We try to use the talents we do have to express our deep feelings, to show our appreciation of all the contributions that came before us, and to add something to that flow.”

I think there is a supposition there that may not actually apply to most people. I find that most people (again, based on my personal experience!) aren’t looking to “add to the flow.” I think most people are looking to just get by, maybe aim for comfort. Very few people are looking to contribute to our species’ disposition or circumstance. I think Jobs grew up in a time and in a place that encouraged radical thinking and the exploration of possibilities. The optimistic exuberance of the late sixties and seventies promoted the idea that one person could, in fact, change the world. A person could “make a difference.” Does that idea still exist? Certainly it does, but I can’t help but draw the conclusion that that is a candle burning the last fibers of its wick. The world is too big, isn’t it? What do I have to contribute?

I, certainly, have fallen into that group: always looking for the easy way through, if not out. “Good enough” seemed like enough at the time, but truly wasn’t. What difference can I make? Do you see yourself at that same place?

What is it that people who are not at that place think and feel? Jobs, certainly, was never at that place, and words cannot adequately describe my appreciation to Isaacson for letting me look at a life lived by someone who not only believed he could contribute and change the world, but believed he had to, for that was who he was.

The meaning I attach to the book, and Jobs’ final words particularly, comes dressed in a cloak of fear. Yes, fear. I had told someone once who was considering taking the California bar for the third time that I understood his own fear in taking the test again in that this was not just a question of taking a test, it was a chance to find out if he was good enough, if he had it in him. There is much fear in finding out that maybe you don’t have it in you-maybe you truly aren’t good enough.

This is a clash of the belief that anything is possible and the cruel self-mythology shattering hard truth that anything isn’t possible. This is a fear I think most people have, and that most people decide that anything isn’t possible, so they stop trying. Or they settle for less. I think it’s unfortunate that most people have decided that not only is changing the world not possible, but even contributing is impossible: they have neither the ability nor the opportunity to add to the flow.

I don’t think Jobs did settle for less, or decide that anything wasn’t possible. I don’t think he had fear of failure. I don’t think he had any fear of finding out he wasn’t good enough because he knew implicitly that he was. To paraphrase what he said once, “It makes life a lot easier knowing that when you look around, almost everything you see was made by someone not as smart as you.”

The meaning I attach to his life and legacy is that striving to contribute and add to the flow is a worthwhile endeavor, and one we should all strive for. We have to contribute. Find the arrogance to believe that you can-and must-add to the flow.

Thank you, Mr. Isaacson, for your having shined light into the life of an amazing man.

Thank you, Steve, for scaring the shit out of me. I hope I find the arrogance to believe I’m good enough, that I can add to the flow.