For all the points of the compass there is only one direction
Rosencrantz: We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the word for it. Before we know that there are words. Out we come, bloody and squalling, with the knowledge that for all the points of the compass there is only one direction, and time is its only measure.
- Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead
Live. Live. You have finite minutes and you choose, always, even now, how to spend your limited allotment. Am I doing what I wish to do? Am I living, actively, deliberately, vividly? What do I want, and what am I doing about it?
John Gruber penned an elegant piece about this:After the WWDC keynote four months ago, I saw Steve [Jobs], up close. […] The thing that struck me were his shoes, those famous gray New Balance 993s. They too were well-worn. But also this: fresh bright green grass stains all over the heels.
Those grass stains filled my mind with questions. How did he get them? When? They looked fresh, two, three days old, at the most. Apple keynote preparation is notoriously and unsurprisingly intense. But not so intense, those stains suggested, as to consume the entirety of Jobs’s days. There is no grass in Moscone West.
Surely, my mind raced, surely he has more than one pair of those shoes. He could afford to buy the factory that made them. Why wear this grass-stained pair for the keynote, a rare and immeasurably high-profile public appearance? My guess: he didn’t notice, didn’t care. One of Jobs’s many gifts was that he knew what to give a shit about. He knew how to focus and prioritize his time and attention. Grass stains on his sneakers didn’t make the cut.
* * *
Late last night, long hours after the news broke that he was gone, my thoughts returned to those grass stains on his shoes back in June. I realize only now why they caught my eye. Those grass stained sneakers were the product of limited time, well spent. And so the story I’ve told myself is this:
I like to think that in the run-up to his final keynote, Steve made time for a long, peaceful walk. Somewhere beautiful, where there are no footpaths and the grass grows thick. Hand-in-hand with his wife and family, the sun warm on their backs, smiles on their faces, love in their hearts, at peace with their fate.
Yes. Yes. That last sentence strikes deep into my soul where it finds a small bit of serene agony, a silent seething inconsolable ache.
Limited time. Well spent. Live, goddammit, live.
- Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead
Live. Live. You have finite minutes and you choose, always, even now, how to spend your limited allotment. Am I doing what I wish to do? Am I living, actively, deliberately, vividly? What do I want, and what am I doing about it?
John Gruber penned an elegant piece about this:After the WWDC keynote four months ago, I saw Steve [Jobs], up close. […] The thing that struck me were his shoes, those famous gray New Balance 993s. They too were well-worn. But also this: fresh bright green grass stains all over the heels.
Those grass stains filled my mind with questions. How did he get them? When? They looked fresh, two, three days old, at the most. Apple keynote preparation is notoriously and unsurprisingly intense. But not so intense, those stains suggested, as to consume the entirety of Jobs’s days. There is no grass in Moscone West.
Surely, my mind raced, surely he has more than one pair of those shoes. He could afford to buy the factory that made them. Why wear this grass-stained pair for the keynote, a rare and immeasurably high-profile public appearance? My guess: he didn’t notice, didn’t care. One of Jobs’s many gifts was that he knew what to give a shit about. He knew how to focus and prioritize his time and attention. Grass stains on his sneakers didn’t make the cut.
* * *
Late last night, long hours after the news broke that he was gone, my thoughts returned to those grass stains on his shoes back in June. I realize only now why they caught my eye. Those grass stained sneakers were the product of limited time, well spent. And so the story I’ve told myself is this:
I like to think that in the run-up to his final keynote, Steve made time for a long, peaceful walk. Somewhere beautiful, where there are no footpaths and the grass grows thick. Hand-in-hand with his wife and family, the sun warm on their backs, smiles on their faces, love in their hearts, at peace with their fate.
Yes. Yes. That last sentence strikes deep into my soul where it finds a small bit of serene agony, a silent seething inconsolable ache.
Limited time. Well spent. Live, goddammit, live.