If Today Were the Last Day of Your Life….

I recently stumbled across a LinkedIn post that mentioned one of the guiding philosophies of Steve Jobs, the late Apple co-founder and legendary tech dude. The philosophy was shared in a 2005 commencement speech Jobs gave at Stanford University, not too long after his first cancer diagnosis. Here’s part of the speech:

“If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today? Whenever the answer is ‘no’ for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something. 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…You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

A couple of things before addressing the gist of the above quote:

1. Jobs would live another six-plus years following the speech, so he actually had quite a bit of time to put that philosophy into practice.
2. The LinkedIn post only mentioned the first part of the speech: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today? Whenever the answer is no for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.”

Now, I assume Jobs’ speech became well-known in certain circles – because everything he did was well-known in certain circles. But I didn’t learn about it until last week, on LinkedIn. It was a pretty deep message for an otherwise routine weekday morning that had me following the usual schedule. I didn’t give it much thought until a little later, during my morning bike ride, which is when my mind tends to wander into deep thoughts.

I did what probably a lot of other people did after they heard or read Jobs’ words – I thought about what I would end up doing that day, and whether it would pass the test of Something I Should Be Doing On The Last Day Of My Life.

I don’t need a diary to remember what I did that day, because they all follow the same pattern during the workweek. Here’s how things usually shake out:

Wake up, make coffee, drive wife to the train station, work at the desk, make breakfast for one of our daughters (the other prefers to do it herself), drive them to school, come home, do more work at the desk, do house chores, prep that night’s dinner, ride my bike, hit tennis against the tennis net, do yardwork (when necessary), shower, eat lunch, do more work at the desk, watch sports on TV (prerecorded), wait for the girls to get home from school, ask them about their day – which they typically answer with a couple of indecipherable grunts – do more work at the desk, read for a while, take a short nap, pick wife up from the train station, make dinner, eat dinner, clean up after dinner, go back to the desk for more work (with jazz in the background), help the girls with homework (when necessary), tell everyone goodnight, return to the desk for more work, watch a little TV, read, hit the sack, go to sleep.

That’s the day. That’s my life in a nutshell – or much of it, anyway.

Now, would I do that very thing if this were the last day of my life? I asked myself that question while riding my bike. It was a tough question. I couldn’t really answer it. I finally decided it was the wrong question.

*****

I have no problem with the day I had. I like my days. I like the routine and process, the work and the play and the rest. It’s fulfilling enough, and comfortable – and I’m old enough to have earned a little comfort. I’m not sure I would change it just because I might not be around tomorrow.

I started thinking about possible scenarios. Let’s say someone told me, “Today is your last day. What would you do?”

Well, shit. How am I supposed to answer that? What would they have me do — or expect me to do? Should I contact the family and tell them to hustle home ASAP – we’re going to hop a jet to Costa Rica, where we can watch the sunset together on a warm beach, and eat fresh fruit, and pour our hearts out? Is that the right answer?

Here’s how such a scenario would probably play out:

By the time I navigated my way through the ticket buying process and we arrived at the airport, the day would be half over. I’d probably die somewhere over Florida, just as I’m about to be served a meal of microwaved pasta in bland tomato sauce, and a tiny little salad with that gummy dressing they serve.

But: I followed my heart! – all the way to a cramped airline seat with grouchy passengers.

*****

Okay, I know that’s not exactly what Steve Jobs had in mind. My assumption is that he meant we should lead the lives that we would want to lead if we could lead any life we wanted, because tomorrow makes no promises.

But I don’t know how to live in that mindset, or answer the question of what I would do on the last day of my life. Because it’s the wrong question to ask, at least in my case (and maybe plenty of others, too).

The better question for me is this: If this were the last day of my life, would I regret the day I’ll probably have, if everything goes according to script?

And the answer to that is: No, I would not. I would not regret it. I’d be perfectly fine and happy with it. I do pretty much what I want to do, anyway. Nobody gets hurt by it. Some people benefit from it (mainly family). It’s a productive day that includes work, exercise, family, good food, fresh air, the joy of books, tennis, jazz, hugs, laughter, cooking. I stay busy; it doesn’t bore me.

If I’m lucky I’ll get some creative energy and do something outstanding. But if not, what the hell. It’s still a pretty decent day — and enough pretty decent days lead to a pretty decent life. Don’t expect me to complain about that.

There is another school of thought that probably disagrees with me, that shouts from the mountaintops about the importance of throwing away the mundane and spending your days pushing up against the far limits of human life. Don’t sit at your desk, don’t spend your time in the kitchen. Spend your last day skydiving over the Andes, or running with the lions in deepest Africa, or sailing the high seas, sharing one last waltz with Mother Earth in all her eternal glory. Find the edge and live there.

That’s fine, that’s fine. I’m the last person to preach against the importance of seeking out new boundaries and going where you are least comfortable to wring the most out of life. More power to you, Godspeed. I’ve lived it myself, in fits and starts. I wouldn’t trade my many adventures in many places with many people – some of which were heavy on the thrills and light on the common sense.

But if it’s my last day, I don’t want to go to some strange, exotic place. I want to be right there in my comfort zone, right there with the people and things I know and love the most. I want to ease into the next dimension with a steady heartbeat and a familiar scene in my head.

To me, it’s not whether you want to do what you do every day. It’s whether you’d want to change what you do every day. Personally, I wouldn’t. I’m not alone, not by a long shot.

If I had a Life Philosophy (which I don’t), it might be this: Spend too much time thinking about what you should be doing, and you’ll never enjoy what you are doing. The real thrill comes when you finally realize the difference.

Note: I took the photo a couple of years ago in Old Town, Prague. It seems to fit the mood of the blog, all those blind alleys we must pass through to get where we eventually end up.