Inspiration

The world mourns the loss of Steve Jobs. Everyone crawls out of the woodwork to say how marvellous, what a visionary he was, how much the world will miss him.

I type this on my Dell laptop, but my iPhone is plugged in charging as I write. My iPod Touch is downstairs ready to belt out the tunes I love. The first proper computer in our house was an Apple 2e, Pops brought himself into the digital age on that, while I wasted time playing games on it. I was 14 years old.

A few weeks ago, I fell across Steve Job's 2005 Stanford address. I'm blaming Rog for this. I was moved and unbelievably inspired by his humanity, his humour and his wisdom (Steve Job's, not Rog's). The three anecdotes were exactly what I needed to hear at the right time. The Universe really does have amazing timing. His address reminded me, I'm not always right, I make bad decisions and that's okay. Reinforced that Life is too fucking short to waste time. It inspired me to continue following my Path.

I don't know about you, but I'm tired of the doom-mongers, the pessimists, the 'isn't Life shite' brigade. Yes, Life is tough, but I believe we've got a choice: to moan or to rise to the challenge. To remain the same or to embrace change. To wait for someone to make things better, or to find and implement ways to help ourselves and each other.

I am inspired by the story of Steve Job's life and achievements; and for me, that is a greater legacy than all his money and business achievements. Because ultimately, he is now the richest man in the cemetary and his family and close friends mourn his loss. And I feel for them and for us. They lost a husband, a father, a lover. We lost a shining light.

The Invitation by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to
dream of meeting your heart’s longing.


It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.


It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.


I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if youcan dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.


It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
 
I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”


It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.


It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.


It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.


I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

*  *  *

My apologies if the line breaks do not follow those of the original. You get the idea.

On Wednesday, during a meeting with my work Mentor, he suggested I have a look for this. He suggested I would appreciate it and it might be useful. I duly did.

As far as a piece of writing goes, the Creative Writing tutor in me, would love to cover it in red pen. Scrawl all over it. As far as a piece of wisdom, the skeptic in me who hates pop psychology with a passion verging on the murderous. I want to get chopsticks and poke out Dr Phil's eyes. To the person who was mortally offended at my response when he suggested my experiences over the last 2 years were 'challenging'. Be grateful. Be grateful, I had enough self-control and didn't immediately bludgeon you to death with the metal folding chair.

However, there is something glorious in it's imperfections. Heartfelt, in the simplicity of message. It reminds me of the Life I want to lead.

It reminds me of my goal: when I'm dead, people will say 'that Roses, completely nuts, but damn she Lived.'

Further...
I've had a bit more time to think on this. I've finally figured out why, although I do like the idea, it makes me grind my teeth.

Yes, as a clarion call to lead an authentic life, it's very well intentioned. However, I'm also a big fan of the superficial. I'd like to lead an authentic life, with pink, sparkly nail polish. I like indulging in my Laura Mercier bubble bath. There are times when only murder and mayhem will do on the television. It introduces more fractures and is done in a 'worthier than thou' manner.

I suppose people are a complicated mish-mash and I'm no different. I want the space to allow for everything about me.