The Value of Nothing: Out of Nothing Comes Something. That was an essay I wrote when I was 11 years old and I got a B+. (Laughter) What I'm going to talk about: nothing out of something, and how we create. And I'm gonna try and do that within the 18-minute time span that we were told to stay within, and to follow the TED commandments: that is, actually, something that creates a near-death experience, but near-death is good for creativity. (Laughter) OK.
Ang halaga ng wala: mula sa wala, sumisibol ang isang bagay. Isang sanaysay ito na sinulat ko noong ako'y 11ng taong gulang at ang nakuha ko ay B+ (Tawanan) Ang tatalakayin ko: wala mula sa mayroon, at kung paano tayo lumilikha. At susubukin kong gawin ito so loob ng 18-minuto na pataan sa atin, at sundin ang "the TED commandments": kung baga'y, ang totoo'y, isang bagay na lumilikha ng karanasang bingit-sa-kamatayan, pero ang bingit-sa-kamatayan ay mabuti sa pagkamalikhain. (Tawanan) OK.
So, I also want to explain, because Dave Eggers said he was going to heckle me if I said anything that was a lie, or not true to universal creativity. And I've done it this way for half the audience, who is scientific. When I say we, I don't mean you, necessarily; I mean me, and my right brain, my left brain and the one that's in between that is the censor and tells me what I'm saying is wrong. And I'm going do that also by looking at what I think is part of my creative process, which includes a number of things that happened, actually -- the nothing started even earlier than the moment in which I'm creating something new. And that includes nature, and nurture, and what I refer to as nightmares.
Kaya, gusto ko ring ipaliwanag, dahil sinabi ni Dave Eggers na bubuligligin niya ako kung may sasabihin akong isang kasinungalingan, o hindi totoo tungkol sa unibersal na pagkamalikhain At nagawa ko ito sa ganitong paraan para sa kalahati ng naririto, na siyentipiko. Kapag sinasabi kong tayo, hindi ko ibig tukuying kayo nga. Ang ibig kong sabihin ay ako, at ang kanan kong utak, ang kaliwa kong utak, at ang nakapagitan na siyang tagasulit at nagsasabi sa akin na ang sinasabi ko ay mali. At gagawin ko iyan na tumitingin din sa ipinapalagay ko na bahagi ng aking pamamaraan sa paglikha, na binubuo ng ilang bagay na nangyari, ang totoo – ang wala ay nagsimula nang mas nauna pa sa sandali ng paglikha ko ng isang bagay na bago. Kasama na rito ang kalikasan, at pag-aaruga at ang tinutukoy ko na mga bangungot.
Now in the nature area, we look at whether or not we are innately equipped with something, perhaps in our brains, some abnormal chromosome that causes this muse-like effect. And some people would say that we're born with it in some other means. And others, like my mother, would say that I get my material from past lives. Some people would also say that creativity may be a function of some other neurological quirk -- van Gogh syndrome -- that you have a little bit of, you know, psychosis, or depression. I do have to say, somebody -- I read recently that van Gogh wasn't really necessarily psychotic, that he might have had temporal lobe seizures, and that might have caused his spurt of creativity, and I don't -- I suppose it does something in some part of your brain. And I will mention that I actually developed temporal lobe seizures a number of years ago, but it was during the time I was writing my last book, and some people say that book is quite different.
Ngayon sa larang ng kalikasan, tinitingnan natin kung totoo o hindi na mayroon tayong likas na kung ano, baka sa ating utak, may di-pangkaraniwang chromosome na siyang sanhi ng mala-musang epekto. May mga taong magsasabi na ipinanganak tayong mayroon nito, at ang iba, tulad ng ina ko, ay magsasabi na nakukuha ko ang mga materyal ko sa nangakaraang buhay. May mga tao rin na magsasabi na ang pagkamalikhain ay maaaring dala ng kapansanang neurological -- syndrome ni van Gogh -- na mayroon ka kahit kapiraso, alam mo na, psychosis, o depression. Dapat kong sabihin, may isang tao – nabasa ko kamakailan lang na baka hindi naman talagang psychotic si van Gogh, na mayroon siyang temporal lobe seizures, at maaaring siyang sanhi ng bugso ng pagkamalikhain, at hindi ko – siguro ikako may epekto iyon sa isang parte ng iyong utak. At gusto ko ring banggitin na ang totoo'y nagkaroon ako ng temporal lobe seizures ilang taon na ang nararaan, pero iyon ay noong sinusulat ko ang huli kong libro, at may ilang nagsasabi na ang librong iyon ay talagang naiiba.
I think that part of it also begins with a sense of identity crisis: you know, who am I, why am I this particular person, why am I not black like everybody else? And sometimes you're equipped with skills, but they may not be the kind of skills that enable creativity. I used to draw. I thought I would be an artist. And I had a miniature poodle. And it wasn't bad, but it wasn't really creative. Because all I could really do was represent in a very one-on-one way. And I have a sense that I probably copied this from a book. And then, I also wasn't really shining in a certain area that I wanted to be, and you know, you look at those scores, and it wasn't bad, but it was not certainly predictive that I would one day make my living out of the artful arrangement of words.
Palagay ko'y may bahagi ito na nagsisimula sa nararamdamang identity crisis: alam mo na, sino ako, bakit ako ay itong partikular na taong ito, bakit hindi ako itim na tulad ng lahat? At kung minsa'y mayroon kang mga kasanayan pero hindi sila ang uri ng kasanayan na nakapagbibigay ng pagkamalikhain. Dati'y nagdo-drowing ako. Akala ko'y magiging pintor ako. At mayroon akong isang munting poodle. At okey naman din siya, pero hindi talagang malikhain. Dahil sa ang nagagawa ko lang ay maglarawan sa isang paraang isa-sa-isa. At may pakiramdam ako na maaaring kinopya ko ito sa isang libro. At saka hindi rin ako sumisikat sa isa pang gawaing gusto ko, at alam mo na, titingnan mo ang mga marka, at hindi naman masama, pero walang sinasabi kung isang araw ay mabubuhay ako sa makasining na pag-aayos ng mga salita.
Also, one of the principles of creativity is to have a little childhood trauma. And I had the usual kind that I think a lot of people had, and that is that, you know, I had expectations placed on me. That figure right there, by the way, figure right there was a toy given to me when I was but nine years old, and it was to help me become a doctor from a very early age. I have some ones that were long lasting: from the age of five to 15, this was supposed to be my side occupation, and it led to a sense of failure.
Isa pa, isa sa mga prinsipyo ng pagkamalikhain ay ang magkaroon ng konting childhood trauma. At naranasan ko ang karaniwang uri na naranasan ng maraming tao, at ito ang, alam mo na, mga inaasahan sa akin. Ang pigurang iyon, mabanggit ko, ang pigurang iyon ay isang laruang ibinigay sa akin noong ako'y siyam na taon pa lang, at ito ay para tulungan akong maging doktor nang bata pa. Mayroon akong ilan na matagal ang inabot: mula sa limang anyos hanggang sa 15, ito ay para maging sideline ko, at humantong ito sa kasiphayuan.
But actually, there was something quite real in my life that happened when I was about 14. And it was discovered that my brother, in 1967, and then my father, six months later, had brain tumors. And my mother believed that something had gone wrong, and she was gonna find out what it was, and she was gonna fix it. My father was a Baptist minister, and he believed in miracles, and that God's will would take care of that. But, of course, they ended up dying, six months apart. And after that, my mother believed that it was fate, or curses -- she went looking through all the reasons in the universe why this would have happened. Everything except randomness. She did not believe in randomness. There was a reason for everything. And one of the reasons, she thought, was that her mother, who had died when she was very young, was angry at her. And so, I had this notion of death all around me, because my mother also believed that I would be next, and she would be next. And when you are faced with the prospect of death very soon, you begin to think very much about everything. You become very creative, in a survival sense.
Pero ang totoo'y mayroong isang bagay na totoong may realidad sa aking buhay na nangyari noong ako ay mga 14. At ito'y natuklasan na ang kapatid kong lalaki, noong 1967, at sumunod ang aking ama, pagkaraan ng anim na buwan, ay mayroon tumor sa utak. Ang paniwala ng nanay ko ay may hindi mabuting nangyari, at tutuklasin niya kung ano iyon. At aayusin niya. Isang ministrong Baptist ang ama ko, at naniniwala siya sa milagro, at ang kagustuhan ng Diyos ay ang mag-aalaga doon. Pero namatay din sila, anim na buwan ang pagitan. At pagkatapos noon, naniwala ang ina ko na kapalaran iyon, o mga sumpa – ginalugad ang buong mundo para sa dahilan kung bakit kailangang mangyari ito. Lahat liban sa ala-suwerte. Hindi siya naniniwala sa ala-suwerte. May dahilan ang lahat. At isa sa mga dahilan, sa isip niya, ay dahil sa ang kayang ina, na namatay noong bata pa siya, ay galit sa kanya. Kaya't nasa aking isip ang kamatayan ng lahat ng nasa paligid ko dahil sa ang ina ko ay naniniwala na ako ang susunod, at siya ang susunod. At kapag napaharap ka sa posibilidad ng nalalapit na kamatayan, sinisimulan mong pag-isipan ang lahat. Nagiging malikhain ka, para mabuhay.
And this, then, led to my big questions. And they're the same ones that I have today. And they are: why do things happen, and how do things happen? And the one my mother asked: how do I make things happen? It's a wonderful way to look at these questions, when you write a story. Because, after all, in that framework, between page one and 300, you have to answer this question of why things happen, how things happen, in what order they happen. What are the influences? How do I, as the narrator, as the writer, also influence that? And it's also one that, I think, many of our scientists have been asking. It's a kind of cosmology, and I have to develop a cosmology of my own universe, as the creator of that universe.
At ito, kung gayon, ang nagbunsod sa malalaking tanong. Ito ang mga tanong na nasa harap ko ngayon. Tulad ng: Bakit nangyayari ang mga pangyayari, at paano nangyayari ang mga pangyayari? At ang itinanong ng aking ina: Paano ako makagagawa ng mga pangyayari? Isang magandang paraan ng pagtingin sa mga tanong na ito, kapag sumusulat ka ng kuwento. Sapagka't sa kabila ng lahat, sa gayong framework, sa pagitan ng unang pahina at 300, sasagutin mo ang tanong kung bakit at paano nangyayari ang mga pangyayari, ang sunuran ng mga pangyayari. Ano ang mga impluwensya? Paano ako, bilang siyang tagapagsalaysay, bilang siyang manunulat, nakakaimpluwensya (sa mga pangyayari)? At isa ring ito sa mga tanong ng marami sa ating mga syentipiko. Isang uri ng cosmology, at kailangang kong humubog ng cosmology ng aking sariling sansinukob [universe], bilang manlilikha ng nasabing sansinukob.
And you see, there's a lot of back and forth in trying to make that happen, trying to figure it out -- years and years, oftentimes. So, when I look at creativity, I also think that it is this sense or this inability to repress, my looking at associations in practically anything in life. And I got a lot of them during what's been going on throughout this conference, almost everything that's been going on.
At makikita mo, maraming urong at sulong sa pagtatangkang maisakatuparan, masuri – magbibilang ng maraming taon, kadalasan. Kaya't kapag tinitingnan ko ang pagkamalikhain, naiisip ko rin na ito ay ang di-kakayahang pigilin ko ang paghanap ko ng mga ugnayan sa halos kahit anong bagay sa buhay. At marami akong napulot sa mga nangyayari dito ngayon sa buong konperensya, sa halos lahat ng nagaganap.
And so I'm going to use, as the metaphor, this association: quantum mechanics, which I really don't understand, but I'm still gonna use it as the process for explaining how it is the metaphor. So, in quantum mechanics, of course, you have dark energy and dark matter. And it's the same thing in looking at these questions of how things happen. There's a lot of unknown, and you often don't know what it is except by its absence. But when you make those associations, you want them to come together in a kind of synergy in the story, and what you're finding is what matters. The meaning. And that's what I look for in my work, a personal meaning.
Kung kaya, gagamitin ko, bilang metapora, ang ugnayang ito: ang quantum mechanics, na hindi ko talagang naiintindihan, pero gagamitin ko pa rin ito bilang isang paraan para ipaliwanag kung bakit ito ang metapora. Sa quantum mechanics, gaya ng alam na natin, mayroon dark energy at dark matter. Katulad din ito ng pagtingin sa tanong kung bakit nangyayari ang mga pangyayari. Maraming hindi alam, at madalas ay hindi mo alam kung ano ito liban na lang ang kawalan nito. Pero kapag binuo mo ang mga ugnayan, gusto mong magkatugma sila sa isang uri ng synergy sa kuwento, at ang nakikita mo ang may katuturan. Ang kahulugan. Ito ang hinahanap ko sa aking mga gawa, isang pansariling kahulugan.
There is also the uncertainty principle, which is part of quantum mechanics, as I understand it. (Laughter) And this happens constantly in the writing. And there's the terrible and dreaded observer effect, in which you're looking for something, and you know, things are happening simultaneously, and you're looking at it in a different way, and you're trying to really look for the about-ness, or what is this story about. And if you try too hard, then you will only write the about. You won't discover anything. And what you were supposed to find, what you hoped to find in some serendipitous way, is no longer there. Now, I don't want to ignore the other side of what happens in our universe, like many of our scientists have. And so, I am going to just throw in string theory here, and just say that creative people are multidimensional, and there are 11 levels, I think, of anxiety. (Laughter) And they all operate at the same time.
Nariyan din ang uncertainty principle, na bahagi ng quantum mechanics, sa pagkakaintindi ko. (Tawanan) At patuloy itong nangyayari sa pagsulat. At nariyan ang terible at kinatatakutang observer effect, na kung ano'y sinusuri mo ang isang bagay, at alam mo na, sabay-sabay na nangyayari ang mga bagay, at tinitingnan mo ito sa kakaibang paraan, at talagang pinipilit mong makita ang ka-"tungkol"-an. O kung tungkol saan ang kuwento. At kung sobra ang pagpipilit mo, masusulat mo lang ang tungkol. Hindi ka makakatuklas ng kahit ano. Ang dapat sanang matagpuan mo, ang inaasahan mong matagpuan, sa isang mala-suwerteng paraan, ay wala na doon. Ngayon, hindi ko naman gustong hindi-pansinin ang kabila ng mga pangyayari sa ating universe. tulad ng marami sa ating mga siyentipiko. Kung kaya't gusto ko rin isama rito ang string theory, at sabihin na lang na ang mga taong malikhain ay multi-dimensional, at mayroon labing-isang antas, sa isip ko, ng kagulumihaman. (Tawanan) At nangyayari sila nang sabay-saby.
There is also a big question of ambiguity. And I would link that to something called the cosmological constant. And you don't know what is operating, but something is operating there. And ambiguity, to me, is very uncomfortable in my life, and I have it. Moral ambiguity. It is constantly there. And, just as an example, this is one that recently came to me. It was something I read in an editorial by a woman who was talking about the war in Iraq. And she said, "Save a man from drowning, you are responsible to him for life." A very famous Chinese saying, she said. And that means because we went into Iraq, we should stay there until things were solved. You know, maybe even 100 years. So, there was another one that I came across, and it's "saving fish from drowning." And it's what Buddhist fishermen say, because they're not supposed to kill anything. And they also have to make a living, and people need to be fed. So their way of rationalizing that is they are saving the fish from drowning, and unfortunately, in the process the fish die.
Nariyan din ang malaking tanong tungkol sa alinlangan [ambiguity]. At iuugnay ko ito sa tinatawag na cosmological constant. Hindi mo alam kung ano ang nangyayari doon, pero may nangyayari doon. At ang alinlangan, para sa akin, ay napaka-di-komportable sa aking buhay, at taglay ko ito. Alinlangang moralidad. Laging naroroon ito. At isang halimbawa na lang, isa itong kailan lang ay dumating sa akin. Isang bagay ito na nabasa ko na editoryal ng isang babae tungkol sa giyera sa Iraq. Sinabi niya, "Iligtas mo ang isang tao sa pagkalunod, mananagot ka sa kanya sa buong buhay." Isang tanyag na kasabihan sa Tsino, sabi niya. At ang ibig sabihin nito dahil sa nagpunta tayo sa Iraq, dapat tayong manatili doon hanggang sa malutas ang mga bagay-bagay. Alam mo na, kahit baka mga 100ng taon. Meron pang isang nadaanan ko at ito ang "iligtas ang mga isda sa pagkalunod." Ito ang sinasabi ng mga mangingisdang Buddhist, dahil sa hindi sila dapat pumatay ng kahit ano. Kailangan din nilang mabuhay, at ang mga tao ay kailangang kumain. Kung kaya ang pangngangatwiran nila ay iligtas ang mga isda sa pagkalunod. at sa kasawiang-palad, habang inililigtas sa pagkalunod, namamatay ang mga isda.
Now, what's encapsulated in both these drowning metaphors -- actually, one of them is my mother's interpretation, and it is a famous Chinese saying, because she said it to me: "save a man from drowning, you are responsible to him for life." And it was a warning -- don't get involved in other people's business, or you're going to get stuck. OK. I think if somebody really was drowning, she'd save them. But, both of these sayings -- saving a fish from drowning, or saving a man from drowning -- to me they had to do with intentions.
Ngayon ano ang nakatiim sa dalawang talinghaga sa pagkalunod – ang totoo, isa sa kanila ay interpretasyon ng aking ina, at isang tanyag na kasabihan ito sa Tsino dahil sa sinabi niya ito sa akin: "Iligtas mo ang isang tao sa pagkalunod, mananagot ka sa kanya sa buong buhay." At ito ay isang babala – huwag kang makisangkot sa buhay ng iba, o baka ka lang maipit. OK. Kung talagang may nalulunod, ililigtas niya siya. Pero ang mga kasabihang ito, iligtas ang isda sa pagkalunod, o iligtas ang isang tao sa pagkalunod, sa akin ay may kinalaman sila sa intensyon.
And all of us in life, when we see a situation, we have a response. And then we have intentions. There's an ambiguity of what that should be that we should do, and then we do something. And the results of that may not match what our intentions had been. Maybe things go wrong. And so, after that, what are our responsibilities? What are we supposed to do? Do we stay in for life, or do we do something else and justify and say, well, my intentions were good, and therefore I cannot be held responsible for all of it? That is the ambiguity in my life that really disturbed me, and led me to write a book called "Saving Fish From Drowning."
At lahat ng tao, kapag nakakita tayo ng isang sitwasyon, mayoon tayong gagawin. At mayroon tayong mga intensyon. May alinlangan kung ano nga iyon na dapat nating gawin, at pagkatapos ay ginagawa nga natin ito. At ang resulta ay maaaring hindi tugma sa ating intensyon. Siguro may masamang pangyayari. Kaya, pagkatapos noon, ano ang ating mga responsibilidad? Ano ang dapat nating gawin? Mananatili ba tayo habang buhay, o babaling tayo sa ibang bagay at mangangatwiran at sasabihing mabuti ang ating intensyon, kaya hindi ako masasabing mananagot sa lahat? Ito ang alinlangan sa aking buhay na gumulo sa aking isip, at siyang nagsulong sa akin na sulatin ang librong "Saving Fish From Drowning."
I saw examples of that. Once I identified this question, it was all over the place. I got these hints everywhere. And then, in a way, I knew that they had always been there. And then writing, that's what happens. I get these hints, these clues, and I realize that they've been obvious, and yet they have not been. And what I need, in effect, is a focus. And when I have the question, it is a focus. And all these things that seem to be flotsam and jetsam in life actually go through that question, and what happens is those particular things become relevant. And it seems like it's happening all the time. You think there's a sort of coincidence going on, a serendipity, in which you're getting all this help from the universe. And it may also be explained that now you have a focus. And you are noticing it more often.
Nakakita ako ng maraming halimbawa, nang luminaw sa aking isip ang tanong. Ang dami sa ating paligid. Nakakuha ako ng mga higing sa lahat ng bagay. Kung sa bagay, alam ko na lagi silang naroroon. At ang pagsulat, ito ang nangyayari. Nakakukuha ako ng mga higing, ng mga pahaging, at naliho ko na madali silang mapansin, pero hindi rin. At ang kailangan ko, sa katuusan, ay pokus. At nang makuha ko ang tanong, ito ay pokus. At lahat ng mga bagay na ito na parang mga bagay na itinapong kuyagot sa buhay ay dumaraan sa tanong na iyon, at ang nangyayari ay ang mga bagay na iyon ay may kaugnayan. At parang laging nangyayari ito. Iisipin mong nagkakataon lang, isang serendipity, na kung saa'y nakakakuha ka ng tulong mula sa sangkalawakan. At maaari ring ipaliwanag ngayon at may pocus ka na. At napapansin mo ito lagi.
But you apply this. You begin to look at things having to do with your tensions. Your brother, who's fallen in trouble, do you take care of him? Why or why not? It may be something that is perhaps more serious -- as I said, human rights in Burma. I was thinking that I shouldn't go because somebody said, if I did, it would show that I approved of the military regime there. And then, after a while, I had to ask myself, "Why do we take on knowledge, why do we take on assumptions that other people have given us?" And it was the same thing that I felt when I was growing up, and was hearing these rules of moral conduct from my father, who was a Baptist minister. So I decided that I would go to Burma for my own intentions, and still didn't know that if I went there, what the result of that would be, if I wrote a book -- and I just would have to face that later, when the time came.
Pero ginagawa mo ito. Nagsisimula kang tumingin sa mga bagay na may kaugnayan sa kabanatan "tension". Ang kapatid mo, na napasok sa gulo, aalaagan mo ba siya? Bakit o bakit hindi? Maaaring ito ay isang bagay na totoong seryoso. – gaya ng sinabi ko, karapatan ng tao sa Burma. Iniisip ko na hindi ako dapat pumunta dahil sa may nagsabi na kung gagawin ko iyon, lilitaw na pumapayag ako sa rehimong militar doon. Di naglaon, tinanong ko ang aking sarili, "Bakit natin tinatanggap ang kaalaman, bakit natin tinatanggap ang mga palagay na ibinibigay ng ibang tao sa atin?" Katulad din ito ng naramdaman ko nang lumalaki ako, nang naririnig ko ang mga tuntuning ng gawang moral mula sa aking ama, na isang ministrong Baptist. Kaya ipinasiya kong pumunta sa Burma bilang sariling intensyon, at hindi ko pa rin alam na kung pumunta ako doon, ano ang resulta niyon kung susulat ako ng libro – at saka ko na lang haharapin iyon, pagdating ng panahon.
We are all concerned with things that we see in the world that we are aware of. We come to this point and say, what do I as an individual do? Not all of us can go to Africa, or work at hospitals, so what do we do, if we have this moral response, this feeling? Also, I think one of the biggest things we are all looking at, and we talked about today, is genocide. This leads to this question. When I look at all these things that are morally ambiguous and uncomfortable, and I consider what my intentions should be, I realize it goes back to this identity question that I had when I was a child -- and why am I here, and what is the meaning of my life, and what is my place in the universe?
Lahat tayo ay nag-aalaala sa mga bagay na nakikita natin sa mundo. Dumarating tayo sa puntong ito at sasabihin, ano bilang isang indibidwal ang ginagawa ko? Hindi lahat sa atin ay makapupunta sa Africa, o magkapagtatrabaho sa mga ospital, kaya ano ang gagawin natin kung mayroon tayong kasagutang moral, ang damdaming ito? Isa pa, sa aking palagay isa sa malalaking bagay na tinitingnan natin, at pinag-usapan natin ngayon, ay genocide. Na tumutungo sa tanong, kapag tintingnan ko ang mga bagay na ito na alinlangan ang moralidad at di-komportable, at iniisip ko ang dapat kong mga intensyon, naliliho ko na bumabalik sa tanong identidad noong bata pa ako – at bakit ako naririto, at ano ang kahulugan ng aking buhay, at ano ang lugar ko sa sangkalawakan?
It seems so obvious, and yet it is not. We all hate moral ambiguity in some sense, and yet it is also absolutely necessary. In writing a story, it is the place where I begin. Sometimes I get help from the universe, it seems. My mother would say it was the ghost of my grandmother from the very first book, because it seemed I knew things I was not supposed to know. Instead of writing that the grandmother died accidentally, from an overdose of opium, while having too much of a good time, I actually put down in the story that the woman killed herself, and that actually was the way it happened. And my mother decided that that information must have come from my grandmother.
Parang lantad, pero hindi. Muhi tayo lahat sa alinlangang moralidad sa isang pag-iisip, pero kailangang-kailangan din ito. Sa pagsulat ng isang kuwento, ito ang lugar na pinagsisimulan ko. Kung minsan'y parang nakakakuha ako ng tulong mula sa sangkalawakan. Sasabihin ng ina ko na ito ang multo ng aking lola mula pa sa kauna-unahang libro, dahil sa parang may mga alam ako na hindi ko dapat na alam. Sa halip na isulat na ang lola ko ay aksidenteng namatay, mula sa sobrang opium habang nagpapasasa sa magandang buhay, isinulat ko sa kuwento na nagpakamatay siya, at gayon nga ang tunay na nangyari. Ipinasiya ng aking ina na ang impormasyon ay galing sa aking lola.
There are also things, quite uncanny, which bring me information that will help me in the writing of the book. In this case, I was writing a story that included some kind of detail, period of history, a certain location. And I needed to find something historically that would match that. And I took down this book, and I -- first page that I flipped it to was exactly the setting, and the time period, and the kind of character I needed -- was the Taiping rebellion, happening in the area near Guilin, outside of that, and a character who thought he was the son of God.
May mga bagay pa, totoong di-kapani-paniwala, na nagdadala ng impormasyon na tumutulong sa akin sa pagsulat ng libro. Sa halimbawang ito, sumusulat ako ng kuwento na may isang uri ng detalye, isang panahon sa kasaysayan, isang lokasyon. At kinailangan kong makakita ng isang makasaysayang katumbas. Kinuha ko ang isang libro, at ako'y – ang unang pahina na nabuksan ko ay siyang-siyang tagpo, at ang panahon. At ang tauhang kinakailangan ko ay ang himagsikang Taiping, na nangyari sa isang lugar na malapit sa Qualin, sa may labas nito, at isang tauhan na nag-akalang siya'y anak ng Diyos.
You wonder, are these things random chance? Well, what is random? What is chance? What is luck? What are things that you get from the universe that you can't really explain? And that goes into the story, too. These are the things I constantly think about from day to day. Especially when good things happen, and, in particular, when bad things happen. But I do think there's a kind of serendipity, and I do want to know what those elements are, so I can thank them, and also try to find them in my life. Because, again, I think that when I am aware of them, more of them happen.
Maitatanong mo, nagkataon lang kaya ang mga pangyayaring ito? E, ano ang ala-suwerte? Ano ang nagkataon? Ano ang suwerte? Anong mga bagay ang nakukuha mo sa sangkalawakan na hindi mo talagang maipapaliwanag? Kasama rin iyan sa kuwento. May mga bagay na lagi kong iniisip araw-araw. Lalo na kung may mga mabubuting bagay na nangyayari, at lalung-lalo na kung may masasamang bagay na nangyayari. Pero hindi ko iniisip na mayroong serendipity dito, at gusto ko talagang malaman kung ano ang mga elementong iyon, para mapasalamatan ko sila, at isa pa'y mahanap ko sila sa aking buhay. Sapagka't, minsan pa, iniisip ko na kung damdam ko sila, lalo pang madalas mangyayari.
Another chance encounter is when I went to a place -- I just was with some friends, and we drove randomly to a different place, and we ended up in this non-tourist location, a beautiful village, pristine. And we walked three valleys beyond, and the third valley, there was something quite mysterious and ominous, a discomfort I felt. And then I knew that had to be [the] setting of my book. And in writing one of the scenes, it happened in that third valley. For some reason I wrote about cairns -- stacks of rocks -- that a man was building. And I didn't know exactly why I had it, but it was so vivid. I got stuck, and a friend, when she asked if I would go for a walk with her dogs, that I said, sure. And about 45 minutes later, walking along the beach, I came across this. And it was a man, a Chinese man, and he was stacking these things, not with glue, not with anything. And I asked him, "How is it possible to do this?" And he said, "Well, I guess with everything in life, there's a place of balance." And this was exactly the meaning of my story at that point. I had so many examples -- I have so many instances like this, when I'm writing a story, and I cannot explain it. Is it because I had the filter that I have such a strong coincidence in writing about these things? Or is it a kind of serendipity that we cannot explain, like the cosmological constant?
Isa pang nagkataon pangyayari ay nang pumunta ako sa isang lugar – kasama ko lang ang ilang kaibigan, at nag-drive kami sa kung saan-saan at sa iba't ibang lugar, at humantong kami sa isang lugar na hindi pangturista, isang magandang nayon, hindi pa nasasaling. At lumakad kami hanggang sa tatlong lambak [valley], at sa pangatlong lambak, mayroon parang mahiwaga at nagbabanta ng masama, isang di-mabuting pakiramdan na nadama ko. At noon naisip ko na iyon ang kailangang tagpuan ng aking libro. At sa pagsulat ng isa sa mga senaryo, nangyari ito sa pangatlong lambak. Sa kung anong dahilan sumulat ako ng tungkol sa mga palatandaan – isang tumpok ng mga bato – na itinatayo ng isang tao. At hindi ko alam kung ano talaga ang mayroon ako, pero napakalinaw sa isip ito. Na-stuck ako, at isang kaibigan, nang tanungin niya kung gusto kong sumama habang ipinapasyal ang kanyang aso, na sinabi ko, sige. Pagkalipas ng 45 minuto, habang naglalakad sa aplaya, may nakita ako. Isang lalaki, isang lalaking Tsino, at may pinagpapatong-patong siya, hindi ginagamitan ng pandikit, o ng ano pa man. Itinanong ko sa kanya kung paano nagagawa ito? At sinabi niya, ah, palagay ko, tulad ng lahat sa buhay, may lugar ng katimbangan. At iyon ang kahulugan ng aking kuwento sa puntong iyon. Marami akong halimbawa – marami akong mga pagkakataong tulad nito kapag sumusulat ako ng kuwento, na hindi ko maipapaliwanag. Dahil kaya sa mayroon akong salaan kung kaya't mayroon akong malakas na pagkakataunan [coincidence] sa pagsulat ko tungkol sa mga ito? O isang serendipity ito na hindi kayang ipaliwanag, tulad ng cosmological constant?
A big thing that I also think about is accidents. And as I said, my mother did not believe in randomness. What is the nature of accidents? And how are we going to assign what the responsibility and the causes are, outside of a court of law? I was able to see that in a firsthand way, when I went to beautiful Dong village, in Guizhou, the poorest province of China. And I saw this beautiful place. I knew I wanted to come back. And I had a chance to do that, when National Geographic asked me if I wanted to write anything about China. And I said yes, about this village of singing people, singing minority. And they agreed, and between the time I saw this place and the next time I went, there was a terrible accident. A man, an old man, fell asleep, and his quilt dropped in a pan of fire that kept him warm. 60 homes were destroyed, and 40 were damaged. Responsibility was assigned to the family. The man's sons were banished to live three kilometers away, in a cowshed. And, of course, as Westerners, we say, "Well, it was an accident. That's not fair. It's the son, not the father."
Isa pa ring malaking bagay na naiisip ko ang tungkol sa mga aksidente. Gaya ng nasabi ko, ang ina ko ay hindi naniniwala sa sapalaran. Ano ang kalikasan ng mga aksidente? Paano natin itatakda ang responsibilidad at ang mga dahilan, sa labas ng korte ng batas? Nasaksikan ko ito nang malapitan, nang pumasyal ako sa magandang pook na Dong, sa Guizhou, and pinakanaghihikahos na probinsya sa Tsina. At nakita ko itong magandang lugar na ito. Alam kong gusto kong bumalik. Nagkaroon ako ng pagkakataon nang tinanong ng National Geographic kung gusto kong sumulat ng kahit ano tungkol sa Tsina. Sabi ko oo, tungkol sa baryong ito ng Kumakantang mga tao, Kumakantang minoridad. Pumayag sila, at sa pagitan ng panahong una kong nakita ang lugar at ng sumunod na lakad ko doon, nagkaroon ng isang malagim na aksidente. Isang tao, isang matandang lalaki, ang nakatulog, at ang kanyang kumot ay bumagsak sa planggana ng apoy na nagpapainit sa kaniya. 60ng tahanan ang natupok, at 40 ang nasira. Ang responsibilidad ay ibinigay sa pamilya. Pinalayas ang mga anak na lalaki para mamahay sa ilang kilometro ang layo, sa pahingahan ng mga baka. At syempre, bilang mga taga-Kanluran, sasabihin natin, "Aba, aksidente iyon. Hindi tama ito. Anak ito, hindi ang ama."
When I go on a story, I have to let go of those kinds of beliefs. It takes a while, but I have to let go of them and just go there, and be there. And so I was there on three occasions, different seasons. And I began to sense something different about the history, and what had happened before, and the nature of life in a very poor village, and what you find as your joys, and your rituals, your traditions, your links with other families. And I saw how this had a kind of justice, in its responsibility. I was able to find out also about the ceremony that they were using, a ceremony they hadn't used in about 29 years. And it was to send some men -- a Feng Shui master sent men down to the underworld on ghost horses. Now you, as Westerners, and I, as Westerners, would say well, that's superstition. But after being there for a while, and seeing the amazing things that happened, you begin to wonder whose beliefs are those that are in operation in the world, determining how things happen.
At kapag nagkukuwento ako, kailagang pawalan ko ang mga gayong paniniwala. Matagal-tagal din, pero kailangang pawalan ko at pumunta ako doon, at mamalagi doon. Naroon ako maka-itlo, iba-ibang panahon. Naramdaman ko na may kakaiba sa kasaysayan at sa nangyari bago pa, at ang uri ng pamumuhay sa isang mahirap na baryo, at ang natutuklasan mong mga galak, at ang mga nakagawian mo, ang mga tradisyon mo, ang mga relasyon mo sa ibang angkan. At nakita ko kung paano ito ay may isang uri ng hustisya sa kanyang responsibilidad. Natuklasan ko rin ang seremonya na kanilang ginagamit, isang seremonya na hindi ginamit sa loob ng 29 na taon. At ito ang magpadala ng ilang lalaki – isang guro sa Feng Shui ang magpapadala sa mga tao na nakasakay sa mga kabayong multo sa ilalim ng mundo. Ngayon, kayo na Kanluranin, at ako, na Kanluranin, ay magsasabing ah, pamahiin lang iyon. Pero pagkatapos tumira doon nang matagal-tagal, at pagkasaksi sa mga kagila-gilas na pangyayari, magsisimula kang mag-isip kung kaninong paniniwala ang siyang nagpapatakbo sa mundo, na nagtatakda ng mga pangyayari.
So I remained with them, and the more I wrote that story, the more I got into those beliefs, and I think that's important for me -- to take on the beliefs, because that is where the story is real, and that is where I'm gonna find the answers to how I feel about certain questions that I have in life. Years go by, of course, and the writing, it doesn't happen instantly, as I'm trying to convey it to you here at TED. The book comes and it goes. When it arrives, it is no longer my book. It is in the hands of readers, and they interpret it differently. But I go back to this question of, how do I create something out of nothing? And how do I create my own life?
Kaya't nanatili ako sa kanila, at habang sinusulat ko ang kwento, lalo akong napapadiin sa paniniwala nila, at naiisip ko na mahalaga sa akin iyon – na tanggapin ang mga paniniwala, dahil sa naroon ang katalagahan ng kuwento, at doon ko makikita ang mga sagot tungkol sa nararamdaman ko tungkol sa ilang tanong sa aking buhay. Nagdaan ang mga taon, at siyempre, ang pagsulat, hindi ito nangyayari sa isang iglap, na ipinatatalastas ko sa inyo dito sa TED. Ang libro ay dumarating at umaalis. Pagdating nito, hindi ko na libro ito. Nasa kamay na ng mga mambabasa, at bibigyan nila ito ng iba-ibang interpetasyon. Pero babalik ako sa tanong, paano ako lumilikha mula sa wala? Paano ko nililikha ang sarili kong buhay?
And I think it is by questioning, and saying to myself that there are no absolute truths. I believe in specifics, the specifics of story, and the past, the specifics of that past, and what is happening in the story at that point. I also believe that in thinking about things -- my thinking about luck, and fate, and coincidences and accidents, God's will, and the synchrony of mysterious forces -- I will come to some notion of what that is, how we create. I have to think of my role. Where I am in the universe, and did somebody intend for me to be that way, or is it just something I came up with? And I also can find that by imagining fully, and becoming what is imagined -- and yet is in that real world, the fictional world. And that is how I find particles of truth, not the absolute truth, or the whole truth. And they have to be in all possibilities, including those I never considered before.
Naiisip ko na sa pagtatanong, at pagsasabi sa sarili na walang katotohanan na lubos. Naniniwala ako sa mga partikular, ang mga partikular ng kuwento, at ang lumipas, ang mga partikular ng lumipas, at ang nangyayari sa kuwento sa puntong iyon. Naniniwala din ako na sa paglilimi tungkol sa mga bagay-bagay, sa pag-iisip ko tungkol sa suwerte, sa tadhana, sa nagkakataon at aksidente, kalooban ng Diyos, at ang pagkakaisa ng mga mahihiwagang puwersa, darating sa akin ang pagkaunawa kung ano iyan, kung paano tayo lumilikha. Kailangang isipin ko ang aking ginagampanan. Kung nasaan ako sa sangkalawakan, at kung mayroon nag-intensyon na gayon ang kalagayan ko, o isang bagay ito na dala ko sa aking sarili? At nakita ko rin ito sa pamamagitan ng ganap na imahinasyon, at ang pagiging ang bagay na nilikha ng isip, na nasa tunay na mundo, ang mundo ng kathang-isip. Ganito kung paano ako nakakakita ng mga mga butil ng katotohanan, hindi ang tiyak ng katotohanan, o ang buong katotohanan. Kailangan naroon sila sa lahat ng posibilidad, kasama na iyong mga hindi ko pa naiisip.
So, there are never complete answers. Or rather, if there is an answer, it is to remind myself that there is uncertainty in everything, and that is good, because then I will discover something new. And if there is a partial answer, a more complete answer from me, it is to simply imagine. And to imagine is to put myself in that story, until there was only -- there is a transparency between me and the story that I am creating.
Kaya't walang ganap na sagot. O kaya naman, kung may sagot, ito ang paalalahanan ang sarili ko na may di-katiyakan ang lahat, na mabuti naman. Sapagka't noon makakatuklas ako ng bago. At kung may sagot na di-lubos, isang may kalubusang sagot mula sa akin, ang maggunam-gunam. At ang maggunam-gunam ay ilagay ang aking sarili sa kuwento, hanggang sa matira na lang – walang balakid ang sinag sa pagitan ko at ang kuwentong nililikha.
And that's how I've discovered that if I feel what is in the story -- in one story -- then I come the closest, I think, to knowing what compassion is, to feeling that compassion. Because for everything, in that question of how things happen, it has to do with the feeling. I have to become the story in order to understand a lot of that. We've come to the end of the talk, and I will reveal what is in the bag, and it is the muse, and it is the things that transform in our lives, that are wonderful and stay with us. There she is. Thank you very much! (Applause)
Gayun ko natuklasan na kung nararamdaman ko ang nasa kuwento – sa isang kuwento – saka ako lalong nalalapit, sa aking palagay, na maunawaan kung ano ang pagkahabag [compassion], na madama ang kahabagan. Dahil sa ang lahat, sa tanong na kung paano nangyayari ang lahat, natutungkol ito sa damdamin. Kailangan ko ang maging ang kuwento para maunawaan ko ang marami sa mga iyan. Nakarating na tayo sa katapusan ng panayam, at ibubunya ko ang nasa bag, at ito ang musa ["muse"], at ito ang mga bagay na nagbabago ng anyo ng ating buhay, na kamangha-mangha at nananatili sa atin. Hayon siya. Maraming salamat! (Palakpakan)