This morning I went to a memorial service for my teacher and friend, Jack Gilbert. I find myself sitting here contemplating it and I'm changed.
Why do I want to do the things I want to do? What motivates me?
Am I selfish for wanting to write a book? Am I selfish for wanting to choreograph? Or is this what I was created for?
I live in one of the richest places in the world... Well, it's not really rich, it just appears that way. I bet most people here are in huge debt. And those who have money don't have what really makes one rich... Joy, contentment, satisfaction, Christ.
I was starting to get sucked into this world. I wanted to write a successful book so that I could buy the house that I actually wanted and I could buy a car that doesn't have duct tape holding it together, literally.
Why? Why would I want that? Would that make me more valuable? Would that give my life more worth?
I remember sitting on Jack's couch and being as comfortable as I ever was. It was old. It was used. It was perfect.
Jack died single, living in a small apartment with old furniture. He had one fleece vest, one sport coat, and one old car. And yet, I would choose to be him over any rich person on the planet. Because he did things that changed the world. Literally. Without getting any credit for it. And he had a heart that I yearn to have.
Jack wasn't a great friend but he once said three sentences that changed the way I viewed myself, my talent, and the world around me.
I have a feeling that many people have been changed by Jack. He changed us by being patient and humble and kind. I hope these are words that are used when I die.
Why do I want to do the things I want to do? What motivates me?
Am I selfish for wanting to write a book? Am I selfish for wanting to choreograph? Or is this what I was created for?
I live in one of the richest places in the world... Well, it's not really rich, it just appears that way. I bet most people here are in huge debt. And those who have money don't have what really makes one rich... Joy, contentment, satisfaction, Christ.
I was starting to get sucked into this world. I wanted to write a successful book so that I could buy the house that I actually wanted and I could buy a car that doesn't have duct tape holding it together, literally.
Why? Why would I want that? Would that make me more valuable? Would that give my life more worth?
I remember sitting on Jack's couch and being as comfortable as I ever was. It was old. It was used. It was perfect.
Jack died single, living in a small apartment with old furniture. He had one fleece vest, one sport coat, and one old car. And yet, I would choose to be him over any rich person on the planet. Because he did things that changed the world. Literally. Without getting any credit for it. And he had a heart that I yearn to have.
Jack wasn't a great friend but he once said three sentences that changed the way I viewed myself, my talent, and the world around me.
I have a feeling that many people have been changed by Jack. He changed us by being patient and humble and kind. I hope these are words that are used when I die.
