[Music]
[Laughter]
you
I learned to love stories from my
grandmother and I didn’t just learn to
love to listen to them I learned to love
the way she cleared her throat like she
was brushing the years old dust off the
cover of a picture book the way her eyes
sparkled when she knew the whole
audience was wrapped up in every word
the way a whole room went quiet when she
spoke stringing words together until
they’re less like words and more like
poetry music art I learned to love
stories from my grandmother she told
stories of little boys and not so little
girls of love and heartbreak of how much
of how she worked every day to save
lives but also how it feels from the
lives around you end she told stories
over cinnamon rolls and ginger creams
never seeming to pause for air but
sometimes stopping to dip one finger in
the vanilla icing winking at me as if
she were a little girl again I learned
to love stories from my grandmother I
learned to love stories because she
filled my ears with words and eventually
I learned to carefully place them into
my heart she reminded me that without
these words without these stories there
is no music no paintings no poetry she
reminded me that without these words we
must not go on listen she told me listen
to everything and now she would tell me
stand up and speak anthropologists tell
us that storytelling is fundamental to
human existence a valuable form of human
expression that gives us both that
propels us gives us both useful and
Meishan and emotional connections and
propels us forward as a human race this
is the Shaw baked Haven France it is
filled with intricate drawings more than
30,000 years old that depict epic bison
and deer hunts demonstrate how to skin
an antelope show how to build a fire
well marine scientists have still never
seen a great white shark reproduce
historians know nearly every detail
about ancient Mesoamerican societies
solely from their Cody’s writing systems
on another hand Native American history
is nearly entirely learned and passed
down through the oral tradition these
examples seem contradictory drawings on
a wall versus Scrolls of coded language
versus a tale woven by an old Sioux
grandmother in a rocking chair but at
the core they’re all the same thing
stories they reflect a universal
language that all can understand and
agree these stories mean as much to the
people who created and shared them as
they do to the scientists who uncover
them today while humanity’s ancestors
just wanted to tell a couple people
about a hunt or a way of worship its
historians find these same stories to be
keys crucial to be unlocking the
mysteries of who we are and where we
came from these forms of communication
have evolved to become something far
greater than just a passing of patterns
between a teller and a listener they
have drawn lines that span the globe
with no regard for the language barriers
cultural differences or military borders
as Frank rose stated in his book the art
of immersion we tell stories to make
sense of the world and to share that
knowledge with others without
storytelling we would never know what it
is like to have anything but our own
lives this thought has terrified me for
as long as I can remember when I was
little I would ask my cousins
to describe their days to me this
confused them they wanted to tell me
about the exciting parts of their life
when all I honestly wanted to know was
whether or not the breakfast before
getting just her after and who they sat
with at lunch and whether they could see
the stars at night when the Sun set I
wanted to close my eyes and imagine what
it was like to be an authors daughter in
Texas or part of a farm family in
Wisconsin it to be a boy home schooled
in the bush of Tanzania because all I
knew was what it was like to be a little
girl growing up at the base of the Rocky
Mountains
and I didn’t discredit this I made sure
that after my cousin’s had told me about
themselves I got to tell them about how
blue the sky is here on a clear day the
way that the morning fog sinks to the
bottom of the valley and then uncloaked
the mountains as the Sun rises how quiet
it gets when it smells I wanted them to
know these things I needed them to know
these things because how could we all
possibly be ok was living just one life
as I got older I learned about how truly
big and very different and this issue
only intensified I would sit in airports
for hours on end and imagine entire
lives for the people who moved around me
that tall girl over there drinking water
she’s surely one from the trees but else
for those long arms be used for besides
swinging from branch to branch that man
wearing hiking boots I’m sure he slept
on every single one of the Seven Summits
that mom balancing 7 Starbucks coffees I
think she travels with the circus when
she’s not busy carpooling her triplet
daughters to and from soccer practice
and the little girl holding up seashells
to her ears she’s listening to the ocean
because one day she’ll find it and never
we’ve inside these are stories I
invented for people through them I could
in a way with other lives but it was
still so safe and protected and it as I
found out when it comes to real life and
real stories they will always have they
all they will always win when it comes
to crazy this is a couple I met on a
boat trip in the British Virgin Islands
they had a boost at an oceanside flea
market and they sold everyday items
hats bags sunglasses cases all made out
of different flags the day we went it
was pouring rain the kind of rain you
would never see here we took refuge
under the couple’s tent and I asked them
where they got all of their flags the
man told me and heavily accented and
broken English that they had sailed all
around the Atlantic for seven years up
and down the Caribbean all along the
eastern coast of South America and they
stopped at every boat they found that
was flying a flag they would more close
to the boat and then ask whoever was on
board what their story was his wife told
me that they gave no further promptings
but the things they heard and learned
from these people was more than they
could have ever expected after talking
for just a couple minutes or sometimes
over hours and meals these two would
leave with a whole other life they had
learned about and they always asked
their new friend for a piece of their
flag I stood there with my mouth at gape
these two had collected hundreds of flag
pieces and stitch them together I
couldn’t conceive how many people they
had met how many stories they had been
told I asked why they sold them this was
an art form a lifetime of work put
together way the man told me smiling the
world is a puzzle now we put together
these pieces of the puzzle but we know
the picture already unless we share the
pieces the world hides forever from this
moment I I had always craved others
words stories of our histories and our
pasts in the past of every
we have ever met this couple sought to
collect pieces of the world and they
found them in the form of stories in
fact there are parts of myself I only
recognize from stories I don’t actually
remember my great-grandmother but I can
hear her voice calling death decided to
call us home for dinner I was too young
to remember living in the shadow of a
mountain but my parents have coached me
to recall the warmth of the wood burning
fire in the living room when we truly
listen to stories we can learn about
other cultures in a way that history
books will never be able to replicate
all of humanity deserves to understand
the journey is the individuals and that
have pushed individuals and the larger
groups they belong to forward in this
compassion will propel us for the fuller
understanding of this diverse world just
like the couple and their Flags that I
found in the pouring rain
we must it together our own stories to
add to the puzzle that is the world
every piece is different but without
them as my grandmother would tell me
there is no final picture stories
transpose all barriers that
misunderstanding has ever made and they
build bridges to connect worlds that
would otherwise never come together this
is the impossible connection that we
seek through stories one that allows us
to live other lives
this is a video from my longest freedive
ever my personal record
freediving is deep diving without the
support of compressed air beneath the
water more bridges are made diving deep
on a single breath words become silenced
during this dive as I neared the
3-minute mark my lungs began to burn my
muscles twitched and every part of my
body willed me to return to the surface
but as I prepared to end my dive I
looked into the eyes of the sea turtle I
matched his gentle glide the calm way
that he surveyed the beauty of the ocean
floor before him I was able to slow down
and see clearly I no longer felt the
need to return to the comfort of air as
we swam together and sink although no
words or gestures were
changed I understood his world and I
heard his story the impossible
connection is there it is moving living
with every living thing waiting for us
to find the pieces of the world to find
the words and hold them close to our
heart the pieces of the world are
waiting we just have to listen
you
[Laughter]
you
I learned to love stories from my
grandmother and I didn’t just learn to
love to listen to them I learned to love
the way she cleared her throat like she
was brushing the years old dust off the
cover of a picture book the way her eyes
sparkled when she knew the whole
audience was wrapped up in every word
the way a whole room went quiet when she
spoke stringing words together until
they’re less like words and more like
poetry music art I learned to love
stories from my grandmother she told
stories of little boys and not so little
girls of love and heartbreak of how much
of how she worked every day to save
lives but also how it feels from the
lives around you end she told stories
over cinnamon rolls and ginger creams
never seeming to pause for air but
sometimes stopping to dip one finger in
the vanilla icing winking at me as if
she were a little girl again I learned
to love stories from my grandmother I
learned to love stories because she
filled my ears with words and eventually
I learned to carefully place them into
my heart she reminded me that without
these words without these stories there
is no music no paintings no poetry she
reminded me that without these words we
must not go on listen she told me listen
to everything and now she would tell me
stand up and speak anthropologists tell
us that storytelling is fundamental to
human existence a valuable form of human
expression that gives us both that
propels us gives us both useful and
Meishan and emotional connections and
propels us forward as a human race this
is the Shaw baked Haven France it is
filled with intricate drawings more than
30,000 years old that depict epic bison
and deer hunts demonstrate how to skin
an antelope show how to build a fire
well marine scientists have still never
seen a great white shark reproduce
historians know nearly every detail
about ancient Mesoamerican societies
solely from their Cody’s writing systems
on another hand Native American history
is nearly entirely learned and passed
down through the oral tradition these
examples seem contradictory drawings on
a wall versus Scrolls of coded language
versus a tale woven by an old Sioux
grandmother in a rocking chair but at
the core they’re all the same thing
stories they reflect a universal
language that all can understand and
agree these stories mean as much to the
people who created and shared them as
they do to the scientists who uncover
them today while humanity’s ancestors
just wanted to tell a couple people
about a hunt or a way of worship its
historians find these same stories to be
keys crucial to be unlocking the
mysteries of who we are and where we
came from these forms of communication
have evolved to become something far
greater than just a passing of patterns
between a teller and a listener they
have drawn lines that span the globe
with no regard for the language barriers
cultural differences or military borders
as Frank rose stated in his book the art
of immersion we tell stories to make
sense of the world and to share that
knowledge with others without
storytelling we would never know what it
is like to have anything but our own
lives this thought has terrified me for
as long as I can remember when I was
little I would ask my cousins
to describe their days to me this
confused them they wanted to tell me
about the exciting parts of their life
when all I honestly wanted to know was
whether or not the breakfast before
getting just her after and who they sat
with at lunch and whether they could see
the stars at night when the Sun set I
wanted to close my eyes and imagine what
it was like to be an authors daughter in
Texas or part of a farm family in
Wisconsin it to be a boy home schooled
in the bush of Tanzania because all I
knew was what it was like to be a little
girl growing up at the base of the Rocky
Mountains
and I didn’t discredit this I made sure
that after my cousin’s had told me about
themselves I got to tell them about how
blue the sky is here on a clear day the
way that the morning fog sinks to the
bottom of the valley and then uncloaked
the mountains as the Sun rises how quiet
it gets when it smells I wanted them to
know these things I needed them to know
these things because how could we all
possibly be ok was living just one life
as I got older I learned about how truly
big and very different and this issue
only intensified I would sit in airports
for hours on end and imagine entire
lives for the people who moved around me
that tall girl over there drinking water
she’s surely one from the trees but else
for those long arms be used for besides
swinging from branch to branch that man
wearing hiking boots I’m sure he slept
on every single one of the Seven Summits
that mom balancing 7 Starbucks coffees I
think she travels with the circus when
she’s not busy carpooling her triplet
daughters to and from soccer practice
and the little girl holding up seashells
to her ears she’s listening to the ocean
because one day she’ll find it and never
we’ve inside these are stories I
invented for people through them I could
in a way with other lives but it was
still so safe and protected and it as I
found out when it comes to real life and
real stories they will always have they
all they will always win when it comes
to crazy this is a couple I met on a
boat trip in the British Virgin Islands
they had a boost at an oceanside flea
market and they sold everyday items
hats bags sunglasses cases all made out
of different flags the day we went it
was pouring rain the kind of rain you
would never see here we took refuge
under the couple’s tent and I asked them
where they got all of their flags the
man told me and heavily accented and
broken English that they had sailed all
around the Atlantic for seven years up
and down the Caribbean all along the
eastern coast of South America and they
stopped at every boat they found that
was flying a flag they would more close
to the boat and then ask whoever was on
board what their story was his wife told
me that they gave no further promptings
but the things they heard and learned
from these people was more than they
could have ever expected after talking
for just a couple minutes or sometimes
over hours and meals these two would
leave with a whole other life they had
learned about and they always asked
their new friend for a piece of their
flag I stood there with my mouth at gape
these two had collected hundreds of flag
pieces and stitch them together I
couldn’t conceive how many people they
had met how many stories they had been
told I asked why they sold them this was
an art form a lifetime of work put
together way the man told me smiling the
world is a puzzle now we put together
these pieces of the puzzle but we know
the picture already unless we share the
pieces the world hides forever from this
moment I I had always craved others
words stories of our histories and our
pasts in the past of every
we have ever met this couple sought to
collect pieces of the world and they
found them in the form of stories in
fact there are parts of myself I only
recognize from stories I don’t actually
remember my great-grandmother but I can
hear her voice calling death decided to
call us home for dinner I was too young
to remember living in the shadow of a
mountain but my parents have coached me
to recall the warmth of the wood burning
fire in the living room when we truly
listen to stories we can learn about
other cultures in a way that history
books will never be able to replicate
all of humanity deserves to understand
the journey is the individuals and that
have pushed individuals and the larger
groups they belong to forward in this
compassion will propel us for the fuller
understanding of this diverse world just
like the couple and their Flags that I
found in the pouring rain
we must it together our own stories to
add to the puzzle that is the world
every piece is different but without
them as my grandmother would tell me
there is no final picture stories
transpose all barriers that
misunderstanding has ever made and they
build bridges to connect worlds that
would otherwise never come together this
is the impossible connection that we
seek through stories one that allows us
to live other lives
this is a video from my longest freedive
ever my personal record
freediving is deep diving without the
support of compressed air beneath the
water more bridges are made diving deep
on a single breath words become silenced
during this dive as I neared the
3-minute mark my lungs began to burn my
muscles twitched and every part of my
body willed me to return to the surface
but as I prepared to end my dive I
looked into the eyes of the sea turtle I
matched his gentle glide the calm way
that he surveyed the beauty of the ocean
floor before him I was able to slow down
and see clearly I no longer felt the
need to return to the comfort of air as
we swam together and sink although no
words or gestures were
changed I understood his world and I
heard his story the impossible
connection is there it is moving living
with every living thing waiting for us
to find the pieces of the world to find
the words and hold them close to our
heart the pieces of the world are
waiting we just have to listen
you
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