Tag: Apple

Heart And Intuition

On October 5, 2011

Earlier tonight, I heard Steve Jobs talk about the first time he learned of his cancer diagnosis. It was at a commencement address at Stamford University six years ago. Watching it was, for me, not so sentimental as it was invigorating. Jobs’ tone was a mix of poe-faced acceptance and angry defiance. It was good to came across this speech, when there’s so many choices swirling inside and out.

“Within You Without You” could very well be my theme right now. The man who wrote it faced some scary choices, as the first part of George Harrison: Living In The Material World (aired on HBO tonight) showed. The episode explored the personal and professional sides of Harrison, with contributions from a variety of sources, both archival and recent. Sir Paul is featured, along with Ringo, Astrid, Pattie, Yoko, George himself (taken from older interviews), producer George, and Eric Clapton (and weirdly, little to no John). The Scorcese-directed work is like a massive jigsaw of odds and sods about the Beatles’ guitarist, portraying him as complex and yet “black and white”, isolated and yet social, spiritual and yet practical. The first part ended with the strains of Harrison’s beautifully mellifluous voice singing about his guitar gently weeping.

Harrison was always thought of as “The Quiet Beatle“; I thought of him as a gorgeous, thought-heavy (/heavy thought) man who composed tuneful melodies and had that troublesome wife. He was many things at once, which is what makes him such an endearing (and enduring) figure to so many. Harrison didn’t possess any of the traits the general public perceived about the bands’ members; he didn’t have John’s mouthiness or Paul’s bossiness. Indeed, Harrison didn’t have any kind of identifiable public persona one could look at and plant a flag beside. But that was his charm. His very opaqueness, one that perhaps hid a perceived sensitivity and delicate curiosity, twinned with an iron will and steely resolve, make him a beloved figure who has floated past the creaking shackles of rock and roll nostalgia.

I thought back to my first night in New York, when I had my face-to-face with Yoko Ono; the mischievous smile she had hid an innate kindness. I thought back to seeing Paul McCartney at Yankee Stadium, and the deep shock that sat in the pit of my stomach as I heard his unmistakable voice jauntily belting out the words to “Magical Mystery Tour.” I remember many years ago when Ringo Starr took his seat two rows behind me at The Met. New Yorkers barely noticed, but those who did offered an outstretched hand.

The Beatles were and remain as ubiquitous to culture as Apple computers. My best friend growing up was a Paul (named after Macca), and grew up consistently using Macs. (He is, to this day, an Apple devotee.) When the huge metal boxes with the tiny screens first appeared in elementary school, I joined the club devoted to exploring and learning more about them. I was the only girl in that club. Years later, I remember the butterflies that flew around my stomach as I got my first (but not last) Power Mac, and later, my first Apple laptop, and finally, an iPod (I still have my first generation model), iPod shuffle (which I won), and iPhone (the first version of which was stolen in New York City, in fact). Apple products have become so seamlessly integrated with my daily life so as to be inseparable from its functioning. When The Beatles finally had their work made available on iTunes, it felt like something -gravity? -had shifted completely. One great cultural touchstone was finally connecting to another. The meeting felt natural, good, and right.

Harrison and Jobs may’ve not had much in common on the surface, but they were stealth figures shaping and moulding a new language in modern culture. And their names are forever linked, however contentiously. Tonight I flipped on CNN to hear Jobs delivering these words in 2005:

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out what you really want to do. Have the courage to follow your heart and intuition; they somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is truly secondary.

Amidst tonight’s protests, announcements and memorials, one thing rings clear tonight: life is so short. So very short. Remember. Cherish. “Within You Without You” — there’s a tune, and it keeps playing, on and on.

We were talking
About the love that’s gone so cold.
And the people who gain the world
And lose their soul,
They don’t know, they can’t see –
Are you one of them?

When you’ve seen beyond yourself,
Then you may find
Peace of mind is waiting there.
And the time will come
When you see we’re all one,
And life flows on within you and without you.

–George Harrison

Thank You, Amma

By Catherine Kustanczy

On July 26, 2010

In opera

One week on from getting a hug and I’m still not sure what to make of it.

Amma, the famous Indian humanitarian and world-renowned hug-er, was holding court at a hotel ballroom last Monday. I have been following Amma’s work now for over a decade; her philanthropic activities, together with the mass affection with which she is greeted at every public opportunity, created a certain awe, as well as an intense curiosity. Impressive spiritual being or over-hyped New Age sort?

Prior to my hug, I recalled the amazing number of reports detailing her work from her home base in Kerala, India. I also remembered the reports of those who had come into contact with her -their sense of feeling strange, peaceful, and generally good after receiving one of her famous hugs. Amma has hugged hundreds of thousands of people; she showed no sign of letting up as she greeted the hundreds assembled to greet (and hug) her last week.

After being brief on the basics of receiving darshan and some simple instructions -”Take your shoes off / She doesn’t speak English / Follow me” -I was lead into a large ballroom full of people dressed in draping white, standing, sitting, swaying, and smiling. Old, young, brown, white, walking, disabled, scarred, spotless, men, women -differences and divisions ceased to matter. I suppose it was a perfect symbol of the universal appeal of Amma. Loud Indian music shot through the speakers, along with a video of Amma singing at a live concert. The whole thing had the feel of a Sunday morning at a gospel church, but with a hushed revery; it was celebratory and quietly joyous. There was little if any poe-faxed seriousness, and many of the people were happily sitting in silence, on chairs or on the floor. Some were meditating, palms up, others were just gently smiling, staring at nothing in particular, high on their own special kind of bliss.

Having been lead into a line near the front, I was told by an assistant to kneel on the floor and move forwards accordingly. Amma, smiling and occasionally chatting with one of her swamis, (who I later learned is a former Bollywood director), hugged couples, babies, families, and individuals, placing an apple, a rose petal, and a Hershey’s kiss into every person’s palm as they left.

When it was my turn, I was struck by how physically small this big-hearted woman is. Seated on a small platform, my supplicant position was perfect for a literal, real meeting of hearts. Any initial awkwardness immediately melted away as I wrapped my arms around her waist and leaned my head on her chest. She said something in my ear a few times (“Madoola”), audibly but soothingly, as a swami uttered words I can only assume were part of the darshan. Amma held me a lot longer than I anticipated she might -there was such a long line of people waiting to see her -but I never felt rushed or anxious. Only comforted and totally accepted.

When we finally let go, we looked into each others’ eyes and beamed. I was handed a huge red apple, along with a rose petal and my silver-foiled kiss. She gently closed my palm over the gifts and nodded at me. I got up. Tears suddenly came to my eyes, and I had no idea why. Perhaps it was the occasion, the music, the outpouring of adoration by so many who’d come and waited so long, maybe having waited so long myself … to finally have that moment! Maybe it was the honest, open acceptance of Amma herself that moved me so deeply. Who knows? It was a inexplicable moment.

I held my apple for a long time, gently, letting it roll around my hand, letting Amma’s beautiful fragrance of rose petals and incense envelope me. I’ll always remember her embrace. I don’t know why, and I don’t know why I should feel so moved by this woman -but, to paraphrase Shakespeare, there are more things in the heavens than are dreamt of in philosophies, in reason, or in a world where everything requires explanations, reasoning, evidence, and rational thought. Sometimes the most meaningful experiences transcend language.

iDon’tKnow

By Catherine Kustanczy

On January 27, 2010

In opera

Apple unveiled its latest creation today, the iPad, which is aimed at filling a gap between laptops and smartphones. Was this necessary? Techheads might argue yes, but I’m not entirely convinced. So many technological gizmos derive their value from the fresh-off-the-shelf shinyness than their day-to-day practicality -though I freely admit there is a kind of decadent, delicious value in the revelry of the new. Who didn’t want an iPhone when it came out? I sure did, and though I suspect the attraction to the iPad has a number of variables -age, profession, traveling needs -what Steve Jobs et al is banking on is, of course, consumer dedication to electronics of the Apple variety.

However, I am concerned about what the iPad means to publishers -of books, magazines, and newspapers. According to a report in my morning paper (remember those?), the figures for those who consume news online is rapidly rising, especially among those under 55 years of age. According to the Globe and Mail‘s Simon Houpt, who is quoting the Consumerology Report from Toronto ad agency Bensimon Byrne and the Gandalf Group research firm, 65 per cent of respondents engage in online news reading every day. This compares with 51 per cent of those who read print. Houpt quotes David Herle, principal of the Gandalf Group, who note that “most people under the age of 55 now prefer to get their new from online source than from (printed) newspapers.”

What does this mean for journalists? It’s an issue that’s still being bitterly debated –online, in print, on the radio, and television. Whither the revenue streams? Questions are similar when it comes to books. According to Yahoo Tech Canada, “Authors can have books accompanied with video, colour photos, can change the font size” -that’s truly incredible. I can see where iPad enhancements would (will) be wonderful for things like cookbooks (I’d love to see extras from the French Women series by Mireille Giuliano) and even non-fiction (Terry Gould’s harrowing “Murder Without Borders” would be incredible, or any number of biographies, for example), but when it comes to fiction, I want my own pictures, thanks so much. All that digital hoo-ha is for naught if you have a crappy story. And, not to sound terribly old-fashioned, but isn’t the mark of a good author the power they have to paint a unique mental picture in the minds of each individual reader?

There’s something so soothing to me about the tactile nature of the printed word. Don’t get me wrong: I absolutely love online news -I admit to being a complete junkie, and I’ve worked in it for most of my journalism career. But first thing in the morning, bleary-eyed and messy-haired, I want the slippery feel of newsprint and stained fingertips from printing press ink as I sip a hot cuppa and pick at toast. When it comes to books, I crave the smooth-rough feel of paper, the cut edges, the flapping jacket covers. I know, I’m a romantic. But the iPad isn’t for romantics. That’s okay -there’s room for all kinds, types and gizmos in this world. Just be sure to keep your paper handy when the tea spills.