I'm sorry, it's true. Having children really changes your view

Hear the words of Steve Jobs, a man who shaped the tools of our age, yet spoke with humility about the limits of invention: “I’m sorry, it’s true. Having children really changes your view on these things. We’re born, we live for a brief instant, and we die. It’s been happening for a long time. Technology is not changing it much—if at all.” These words, spoken by one who stood at the summit of human innovation, ring with the solemnity of ancient truth. They remind us that no matter how high the works of men ascend, the arc of life remains unbroken, the rhythm of mortality unchanged.

When Jobs speaks of being born, living, and dying, he names the eternal cycle that has defined humanity since its first breath. Kings and beggars, inventors and warriors, saints and tyrants—all are bound by the same passage of time. The inventions of man may extend comfort, extend communication, even extend years, but they cannot alter the truth that life is but a moment between two eternities. In this, Jobs voices the wisdom of ages: technology can shape how we live, but it cannot touch the mystery of why we live, nor silence the certainty of death.

The mention of children reveals the heart of this reflection. For in becoming a parent, one is confronted anew with the fragility and wonder of life. A child’s birth awakens both hope and vulnerability, reminding us that life is precious not because it is long, but because it is fleeting. Jobs, who gave the world devices that connected billions, discovered that the deepest truth was not in circuits or screens, but in the tender realization that our time is limited, and therefore sacred. Children sharpen this awareness, for they embody both the continuation of life and the certainty of our own passing.

History offers us echoes of this wisdom. Consider Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome, who ruled the most powerful empire of his time and yet wrote in his Meditations: “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think.” Though surrounded by power, wealth, and soldiers, he understood that life’s brevity is the one law no empire can overturn. Like Jobs, he knew that even the grandest achievements cannot free us from the universal fate of all humanity.

Jobs’s words also carry a subtle challenge. We live in an age intoxicated by technology, believing it might deliver us from every limitation. Some dream of machines that will conquer death, or algorithms that will capture consciousness. Yet Jobs, whose own creations changed the world, reminds us of humility. Technology is mighty, but it is not divine. It may serve life, but it does not master life. It can enrich our days, but it cannot add eternity to them. To forget this is to mistake the tool for the truth.

The lesson, then, is clear: let us live not in pursuit of immortality through machines, but in pursuit of meaning through how we spend our days. Do not measure your worth by the length of your years, nor by the brilliance of your inventions, but by the love you give, the wisdom you share, and the legacy you leave in the lives of others. The birth of a child, the embrace of a friend, the quiet moment of beauty—these remain untouched by the march of technology.

Therefore, beloved listener, take practical action: treasure your time as the rarest of gifts. Do not postpone kindness, for you do not know how many days remain. Use technology as a servant, not as a master, to deepen your relationships, to share your voice, to learn what uplifts the soul. But remember always that the true measure of life lies not in what we build, but in how we live within the brief instant between birth and death.

Thus Steve Jobs, creator of wonders, left us with this final paradox: that though technology dazzles the world, it cannot conquer the ancient truths. We are born, we live, and we die—and this is what makes each moment luminous. Do not chase eternity in machines; live eternity in the heartbeat of the present.