My third story is about death. When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you
live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an
impression on me, and since then, 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. 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 expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure- these things just
fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly 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. About a year ago I was
diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor
on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost
certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer
than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order,
which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you
thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make
sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family.
It means to say your goodbyes. I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening
I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into
my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated,
but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the
doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer
that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and thankfully I'm fine now. This was the
closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades.
Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death
was a useful but purely intellectual concept: No one wants to die. Even people who want to go
to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet 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. It clears out the old to make way for
the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually
become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma
which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others'
opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow
your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.
Everything else is secondary. When I was young, there was an amazing publication called
The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created
by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life
with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop
publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort
of like Google in Paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic,
overflowing with neat tools and great notions. Stewart and his team put out several issues
of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue.
It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a
photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking
on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish."
It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always
wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin a new, I wish that for you.
Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. Thank you all very much.