Passage and Verse | October 2011

A Letter to Steve

By Keith Kahle, MROP 2005, Bend, OR

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life.  Because almost everything –all external expectation, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is important.  Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.  You are already naked.  There is no reason not to follow your heart.  Stay hungry.  Stay foolish.  Thank you all very much.

---Apple Computer co-founder and former CEO Steve Jobs, from his commencement address at Stanford University

Dear Steve,

When I read these words after your recent death I was touched by your rawness and transparency.  You were so successful and so well-known for your brilliance that it would be natural to assume that acquiring wisdom about death was just the last accomplishment of your storied career. 

But I know better.  I know that you came to the wise perspective of a dying man only because all of your other options, one by one, were taken away from you.  You did what all of us do.  You embraced death only after fighting it with all of your considerable resources for as long as possible.  You surely went through all of the normal stages of grief, finally arriving at acceptance.  Your last journey was a descent into unaccustomed powerlessness, and your wisdom about death was a final gift.  Thanks for sharing it with us.

I truly wish that your speech about letting go of your fears in the face of death was the tool that would enable me to once and for all let mine fall away, too.  But letting go of my fears feels too much like stepping onto a surface that I am certain will not support my weight.  It feels too much like drowning, and at those times remembering that I am going to die only intensifies my terror.  I’ve tried to be brave and step out onto that surface many times, but once I feel it start to give away I always panic and grasp at what is familiar. 

My arsenal of emergency PFD’s (personal flotation devices) includes repetitive “stinking thinking”, anger, withdrawal, and numbing out.  None of these actually float, of course, but they always look surprisingly promising to a drowning man.  Any alcoholic will tell you that it feels safer to drink than to drown, even as they drown in their drink, and those of us who are divorced know that it feels much safer to be angry than to be intimate.  When I am in a panic, your inspirational words just look too flimsy to save me. 

I am addicted to ineffective survival strategies that I use when I am afraid, Steve, and all I can do is admit that I am broken and stuck.  This has been my journey into powerlessness.   Some call this step one of a twelve-step wisdom journey, but it embarrasses like failure always does, and only appeals to those who have finally had enough of drowning.  This journey has forced me, kicking and screaming, into radical dependence on my Higher Power.  Lord, have mercy on me.  Please protect me.  Open my eyes.  Take away my blindness.  Help me to do what I cannot do by my own efforts.  Help me to love.  Help me to forgive.  Change my heart.  Give me courage.  Help me get through this night. I often have doubts and questions about prayer, but never when I am drowning. 

This week I will wonder where I got the audacity to think I could serve as anyone’s mentor or spiritual guide as I drive to meet with one of my friends who is struggling in his marriage and with other mid-life issues.  We will talk honestly and openly about our lives, and I will be surprised by how much I love and respect him.   Something unexpected and mildly wonderful will happen, and I won’t be able to put a finger on what it is.  He will probably start to cry when he realizes that I really understand what he is going through.  I won’t have any answers, but we will give each other hope as we learn together to trust in a compassionate God who saves the drowning by teaching us to breathe under water.  I will come home energized and head over heels in love with my wife.  It happens every time.

Thanks again, Steve, for your inspirational message.  I’ll remember and cherish it, and maybe someday I’ll quit denying death sufficiently to find it transformational.  Those who have learned to die before they die say that it’s only that first breath that’s the real killer, and after that it gets a lot easier.  Gosh, I wish that was more helpful, but I want what they have and perhaps what you had at the end. 

The best I can do for now is stay connected to my wonderful community of broken brothers and continue to work on my breathing exercises.  This may not seem like much of an accomplishment to the late great CEO of Apple, but all things considered, as my musician friend likes to say, it’s a pretty good gig if you can get it.

Hugs,

Keith

 

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