Follow Your Bliss

I want to take the time today to pay tribute to a life well lived.

I haven’t figured out the great big questions of life just yet during my tour on the planet, but one thing I think provides a true measure of a person is how many lives have been impacted by them for the better, and how deeply they cared about others. Our world lost a person last week who embodied that concept - a quiet man who made an impression with his deeds more than his words, and with his passion even more than his works. His name was Greg Stiles.

I knew Greg only peripherally; his youngest daughter and my stepdaughter are best friends, but he certainly made an impression on me. He was a big bear of a man with a flowing ponytail who struck you as a person who did not suffer fools gladly, and who clearly was a leader who had his feet solidly on the ground. Many of you may know him through his two professions, both of which he approached passionately: teaching and music.

Greg taught science at the Cleveland School of the Arts, where he was known as a no-nonsense, “old school” kind of guy, who nonetheless cared deeply for his students and their welfare. He expected a lot from those who entered his classroom, but they knew that he would return their commitment back to them threefold if they were up to the task. At his memorial service last Saturday, one student after another spoke of the influence he brought to their lives, and how his legacy lived in them still. He expected every student to be the best they could be and didn’t tolerate a half-effort. Not surprisingly, the students who embraced his approach felt it to be a profound source of strength in their lives from that time on. What better lesson could a teacher give than that?

But Greg’s real passion was music. He owned Heights Guitars on Lee Road in Cleveland Heights, and played in various bands and venues over the years, lately performing in a local bluegrass band. From testimonies provided during the service, it was clear that Greg’s true voice was music; it’s when he was most eloquent and pure, and the medium through which folks could best read what was going on in his mind and in his heart. He was rarely far from a guitar, as the candid family photos filling the room attested, and music was his pathway to grace.

What struck all of us at first was the tragedy of the story: a strong and vital man in his prime who was struck down by an illness, suffering a shockingly rapid decline and untimely passing. A family and large group of friends were left with little time to prepare for the silencing of his voice. But what we all began to comprehend over the weekend is that Greg led a life on his own terms, in his own way and at full speed ahead, but it was a life that he opened up to so many others in such a generous way. Think about it: he chose to engage the world in entirely unselfish ways. He was a teacher, giving of himself tirelessly for years to an unending line of young folks who really needed to know that there were adults who expected great things of them and who didn’t just phone it in year after year. He was a teacher who challenged them and then rewarded them as they blossomed. He was a true mentor, the kind that changes a person’s life forever. He was also a musician and a performer, who attracted a wide circle of fellow musicians seeking him out for both performances and conversations, and for the fellowship that is shared by creative people banding together to make something much greater than the range of their individual talents. His store became a Mecca for those seeking to understand the creative process, the complexities of chord progressions, or the meaning of life. They’re really all the same thing, don’t you think?

Greg spent his life reaching out to people in the most personal way, through expression, expectation, and sharing, and so many people received what he gave. His life was relatively short, yes, that can’t be denied. But it was full of joys, and it was lived on his terms. He filled it daily with the joy of music, family, learning, and full-out living. We all can understand, admire, and even envy the life he lived, but we can also learn from it.

Share your gifts with those you love and with those around you; be quiet and listen to the melodies of this crazy world, and then join in the harmony with everything you’ve got.

Godspeed, Greg, and thank you for the lessons. We will try to live up to them.

Have a great week!