So, yesterday I attended my first (hopefully not last) TED conference. It was actually a TEDx conference, which just means it was independently organized, with TED's approval and backing.
The first talk was an older one, a video used to introduce the subject theme of the Day, which was "What we Play is Life". The talk was by a researcher in the field of Psychology, working specifically with Shame and Vulnerability. The point of the talk was to, in essence, redefine vulnerability, and to bring feelings such as shame out into the open, and that our perceptions of our potential for success can be so out of whack with what we can really achieve, and we ourselves are our own worst critics. Needless to say, it reminded me overwhelmingly of myself. I still get stuck wanting so desperately to appear absolutely perfect before anyone and everyone before I've even turned my hand to something. I am aware how unreasonable and unrealistic that is, and it is based on some pretty solid neuroses that I've been working to the root lately. Something the speaker said resonated a bit. She introduced the message by this quote by Roosevelt:
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."and she said "A lot of people always say 'Sure, I'll go into the Arena when I'm bulletproof and perfect, and then I'll kick some ass!'. Unfortunately, nobody ever will be. And if you were, that's not what people want to see. Opening up to the risk is courage enough." This was one of many phrases and key ideas that resonated. I have always wanted to be bulletproof and perfect before showing myself to anyone. She went through many ideas about why people become sucked into destructive cycles of thinking, never striking out and entering the arena at all. About the things we tell ourselves when we're mentally talking ourselves down, the things we dwell on. It reminded me of myself both unpleasantly, but reassuringly; because apparently nearly everyone either is or has coped with those same impulses. The idea of empathy as the utmost shame-killer was what she ended on. Shame and vulnerability, she insisted, are incapable of thriving when met with empathy and sharing. The two most reassuring words a human being can hear are "Me, too."
There was another talk as well, later, on a similar, but very different vein. It was about turning writers block into innovation, by recognizing that it's the cycle of ideas itself, rather than just the idea, that actually creates something. That writers block and frustration and failure are the things that, when handled properly, should bring you around again to creating more and better, and then when that turns into a gigantic lump of fail, still cycling through as you develop. The speaker mentioned both unleashing the giant within, and also releasing one's inner neurotic dwarf, because without both there will be no balance to keep your wheels turning.
One presentation was by a poet, and her talk/poem came close to making me weep. I could feel my chest and shoulders tensing as she spoke, her intonation rising and falling to match the messages in her words. It was half a story, half a history, and half an explanation. It was description heavy with feeling, and her message was about how important a voice is, and how expression and language can give a spiritual and emotional freedom that so many feel the lack of. That finding strength in words was a breakthrough from helplessness and despair to a life she felt worth living and sharing and glorying in.
Shame, Vulnerability, Writers Block, Neuroses, Balance, Creation... For the second time this summer, the Universe seems to be giving me relatively consistent messages, as if to clue me in to necessary acknowledgement and change.
Like any day full of inspired and passionate communication, it left me feeling both elated and utterly empty. I was both inspired and feeling completely inadequate. I wanted to run home and pour out every latent anxiety onto any scrap of paper I could find. I wanted to update my blog, do a Walleye article, tear off a dozen e-mails, and catch up on all my academic chores (Scholarship deadlines, editing) that I've been putting off.
I was actually incredibly tense for parts of the day, feeling like I was going to twitch through the floor at any moment. That may have been two cups of coffee, and sugary iced tea, but the point still stands. There was also another creeping feeling, especially as one or two speakers who were a little less eloquent, or with less cohesive and entertaining verbal skills did their work.
I felt like I could fill 18 minutes talking about things I've done, and how I started to make changes for myself, and how things like travel and writing and flying in the face of fear facilitated a sea of small alterations in myself that ended up as stepping stones to what will essentially be an entirely new life when I arrive in September again.
I felt like maybe one day I could be speaking to people about the possibilities that exist for them and helping them express it in their own way, and then, just as the vulnerability researcher so descriptively predicted, the demons of self doubt set their teeth into my optimism, reminding me viciously that I'm a college student bumming from program to program in the hopes of finding something interesting, with next to no professional experience in anything, and who is prone to laziness, negativity, and who has no applicable experience whatever enabling her to help other people through theirs.
Once I spotted the demon, I was angry and further ashamed (ironically enough) at the fact that I was susceptible to the shame. I felt like the immediate shut down was absolutely no help to any concrete goals I could set for myself, and if I wasn't starting at a beginning, where else should I start?
The day stirred me up a few different ways. Seeing so many people, from so many different backgrounds and crossed over backgrounds, and the only one absolute thing they have in common is that they care passionately about what they do and want to see other people care, too. That they'll take the time to distill and express the key things they think are important and universal and achievable. As someone who is currently equal parts ambition, conflict, and crippling fear of failure, it was resounding inspirational; and also gave me yet greater cause to evaluate exactly what it is I think I want to be achieving, why, and if I even think I can, and trying to identify why it is I sometimes feel like I can't, and how I can work on that. I have been as full of self reflection as I have been adventure this summer, and I'm still not entirely sure what will come of it.
The confidence is coming, though. Not the old, familiar arrogance. The confidence.
The first speaker had another interesting point she ended on, the idea of it being impossible to solve problems with the same thinking that created them. Shaking myself out my initial comfort zone that had cocooned the issues was likely instrumental in the waves of realization that have since followed.
Well, onward and upward! Also, seriously. If you ever get an opportunity to see a TED conference... Go for it.
Overwhelmingly, go for it.
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