Yesterday, the world mourned the passing of Apple founder Steve Jobs. More than a celebration of this luminary’s keen vision and pioneering technological innovations (I-Phones, I-Pads, I-Pods, etc), there was a great moment of profundity in reflecting on Jobs’ Stanford University 2005 Graduation speech. He called for living everyday with integrity and honoring the creative spirit in us all—all of this after a recent cancer diagnosis. Jobs shared “Death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent.” (Click Here for Full 2005 Stanford University Speech).
In my car, driving in the setting sun and cool autumn air, I turned the dial to NPR’s American Public Media broadcast , where it played this other portion of Steve Job’s speech:
…For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something
As, I was turning the corner onto the main street and reached the stop light, something else inside of me paused.
I echoed the question: If today was my last, would I want to do what I
am about to do today. My quick answer—mostly to swiftly remove the feeling of hesitation in my heart—was, “Oh, I would of course be working in the same field. I love this work. I would definitely be organizing community events, working in higher education and with youth, doing this healing spiritual work…” Then a pang came upon my heart. There was an untruth.
My last post revealed the secret behind my developing wellness practices: To make quality space for my creative voice. A sweet growl from that place sang: “There is one thing; your art. The answer to your question is no!” I was not jolted by this truth.
At my last mastermind group meeting September 30th, our assignment was to complete two goals from our six-point vision statement list in the next sixty days. One of my goals was to complete one chapter in a book that I have been working on for the last couple of years. When I began writing for it as also a part of my first assignment for my monthly writer’s group at T-Bar on 12th and Sansom, I was so contented, deeply so. I felt more whole than I have in years when writing, when committed to following my creative path.
The other day, I was telling one of my closest friends that I could not
focus on editing this event program; yet, when I walked upstairs to my room to take a break from editing paralysis, my spirit perked up with glee and clarity. It was because I went to pick up this 1990 futurist novel Invitation to the Game. This book has been conjuring sorts of creative work and energies in me. My creative spirit was joyous.
In answering the Steve Jobs question, that same spirit slouched. She was not happy that in the last two days, I have not made space in my day for her release. It almost felt like a tug from a small child on one’s shirt, eyes large and watery and wanting.
Today, the morning of the Third Annual LGBTQ Womyn of Color Conference,
the morning where intensity can now shift to developing and growing my creative voice with the same level of commitment, I feel blessed. Posting this blog and telling you (and myself again) out loud that I am not fully happy with my choices in this world is reassuring my little lightening
(creative spirit). For, I am sharing with witnesses—ones that I know will hold and have been holding me accountable—that in the next two months, my creative voice will take ferocious primacy. I am speaking of you, dear reader.
I cannot wait to report to my mastermind group all of the goodness that will
abound from working on that chapter.
May I now give honor and thanks to the Orishas Shango and Olokun for their trailblazing and holding of this weekend’s events. We are gathering. May we be blessed in doing so. May we never lose sight that as in dream and in life our collective mind creates and in that expansiveness refines what is possible.
In my car, driving in the setting sun and cool autumn air, I turned the dial to NPR’s American Public Media broadcast , where it played this other portion of Steve Job’s speech:
…For the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something
As, I was turning the corner onto the main street and reached the stop light, something else inside of me paused.
I echoed the question: If today was my last, would I want to do what I
am about to do today. My quick answer—mostly to swiftly remove the feeling of hesitation in my heart—was, “Oh, I would of course be working in the same field. I love this work. I would definitely be organizing community events, working in higher education and with youth, doing this healing spiritual work…” Then a pang came upon my heart. There was an untruth.
My last post revealed the secret behind my developing wellness practices: To make quality space for my creative voice. A sweet growl from that place sang: “There is one thing; your art. The answer to your question is no!” I was not jolted by this truth.
At my last mastermind group meeting September 30th, our assignment was to complete two goals from our six-point vision statement list in the next sixty days. One of my goals was to complete one chapter in a book that I have been working on for the last couple of years. When I began writing for it as also a part of my first assignment for my monthly writer’s group at T-Bar on 12th and Sansom, I was so contented, deeply so. I felt more whole than I have in years when writing, when committed to following my creative path.
The other day, I was telling one of my closest friends that I could not
focus on editing this event program; yet, when I walked upstairs to my room to take a break from editing paralysis, my spirit perked up with glee and clarity. It was because I went to pick up this 1990 futurist novel Invitation to the Game. This book has been conjuring sorts of creative work and energies in me. My creative spirit was joyous.
In answering the Steve Jobs question, that same spirit slouched. She was not happy that in the last two days, I have not made space in my day for her release. It almost felt like a tug from a small child on one’s shirt, eyes large and watery and wanting.
Today, the morning of the Third Annual LGBTQ Womyn of Color Conference,
the morning where intensity can now shift to developing and growing my creative voice with the same level of commitment, I feel blessed. Posting this blog and telling you (and myself again) out loud that I am not fully happy with my choices in this world is reassuring my little lightening
(creative spirit). For, I am sharing with witnesses—ones that I know will hold and have been holding me accountable—that in the next two months, my creative voice will take ferocious primacy. I am speaking of you, dear reader.
I cannot wait to report to my mastermind group all of the goodness that will
abound from working on that chapter.
May I now give honor and thanks to the Orishas Shango and Olokun for their trailblazing and holding of this weekend’s events. We are gathering. May we be blessed in doing so. May we never lose sight that as in dream and in life our collective mind creates and in that expansiveness refines what is possible.
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