Never Underestimate The Distortive Power of Envy

I am a nobody.

I am not a star.

I am not a celebrity.

I am not rich.

I am not famous.

Nobody knows who I am.

I have just returned home from my eighth TED Conference.

Now, according to the extraordinary number of snarky blogs, bitter Twitter tweets and downright cheesiness surrounding this year's conference, those statements are supposed to be mutually exclusive. If you listen to these people, TED is a place where rich, famous stars go to listen to a stream of feel-good talks in an "aren't-we-special?" atmosphere.

As an eight-time attendee: Bull.

Let me tell anyone who cares why our little consulting company invests the $6,000 conference fee (a significant portion of which is a charitable donation to the Sapling Foundation), plus travel expenses, plus the week or so of non-billable time it takes to make the annual trek to TED. Simply put, TED is the most stimulating week of my year. The ideas that stream from the stage are extraordinary. The conversations among attendees equally so. The inspiration and imagination that I experience there unmatchable anywhere else.

Forget the emotionally uplifting talks by Jill Taylor, Wade Davis, John Francis, Karen Armstrong and Dave Eggers. Forget the mind-blowing research presented by Paul Stamets, Robert Ballard and Joshua Klein. Forget, even, the mind-stretching talks by Amy Tan and Isaac Mizrahi. Forget Steven Hawking. Forget Joshua Klein's crows.

Forget Al Gore. Forget Bob Geldof.

Forget the people who spoke about amazing causes. Forget their stories.

Forget all that.

If I were to remember just one tiny line from Benjamin Zander's unique "talk" (how could such a presentation possibly be called just a talk?) and put that line into practice, it would make the entire thing worthwhile:

I will never say anything that could not stand as the last thing I will ever say.

Now, I probably could have come up with that impossible aspiration on my own. But I didn't. I heard it, experienced it, and felt it at TED, as I have thousands of other moments over the years.

Me? I don't go for the celebrity. I go for the booster shot of humanity that TED provides me and the vast majority of people who attend. All those folks who think otherwise are distorting the experience through some kind of People-magazine-crafted fun-house mirror.

Thinking that nobody could possibly do anything for reasons other than yours is the very definition of self-centeredness. "Not everybody sees the world like I do," is another of the great lessons that TED brings home to me each year.

So, as a non-famous, non-rich, non-star, working stiff, a nobody (who this year also got his second chance to present some fun ideas at the ingeniously designed TED-U), I'm here to tell you that I'll be back for the migration to Long Beach next year, no matter who's in the audience.

Because TED matters, and not just for star-fuckers.

Comments

[fouro]

Well, you're a celebrity to me, Tom, leaving aside the copulation side since I'm spoken for.

Yeah, saw that bit of BW whining too and managed a comment yesterday:

Sarah, Sarah. Long tails, A-list bloggers, D-list celebs, Forbes 100s, Aspen in springtime, Little League in fall. Surely you've overlooked that life is self-organizing cliques emanating out from junior high school, with spendier accessories, higher (cash) bars, loftier self-praise and goofier codes? I'd be shocked if TED didn't follow the pattern given the competitive nature of bleeding edgers, even for altruism. That said, whatever forum freshens up noblesse oblige, who's to complain?

Obviously, Sarah's a Janis Ian fan, not a gym rat. "I will never say anything that could not stand as the last thing I will ever say" is a pretty cool sentiment, but "I go for the booster shot of humanity" ain't too bad either.

Weird. Hope and joy only look suspicious to the undertaker and the cynic. Same difference I guess. Rock on, T.

[Roger W. Farnsworth]

It would be a shame if some of the better ideas that were hatched at TED never saw the light of day, but the fact remains that TED has a stellar record of achievement. Just watching Eric Rasmussen talk about the progress that InSTEDD has made in the past year gave me the shivers.

Any of you who saw me get up on stage and give a heartfelt thanks to Dean Kaman and TED know that in at least one case TED had a profound impact on someone's life. A practical not theoretical impact.

Even if it changes only one life for the better, isn't the event worth it?

It was for me.

[Tom Guarriello]

Thanks so much for your comment, Roger.

For those who didn't hear your story, a brief recap. Roger's wife lost two fingers in an horrific animal attack. As a consequence, she sank into a deep depression, poignantly brought home by her inability to button a shirt for one of her young twin boys.

Watching Dean Kamen's brief TED talk of a year ago (or was it two?), in which the inventive genius demonstrated amazing prosthetic devices created to enable functioning for returning amputee veterans, gave Mrs. Farsworth hope, and, as Roger movingly put it on the TED stage, gave him his wife back.

As you say, Roger, a highly tangible, in no way theoretical, demonstration of TED's impact. And, no celebrities involved.

Many thanks for sharing your family's story in Monterey and here.