En turist er på rygsæktur i højlandet i Skotland, og han stopper ved en pub for at få noget at drikke. Og de eneste mennesker, der er der, er bartenderen og en gammel mand, der passer en øl. Han bestiller en øl, og de sidder i stilhed i noget tid. Pludselig vender den gamle mand sig mod ham og siger, "Kan du se denne bar? Jeg har bygget denne bar med de bare næver af det flotteste træ i landet. Jeg gav den mere kærlighed, end jeg gav mit eget barn. Men kalder de mig MacGregor Barbyggeren? Nej." Han peger ud ad vinduet. "Kan du se den stenmur derude? Jeg har bygget den stenmur med de bare næver. Fandt hver sten, placerede dem perfekt i regn og kulde. Men kalder de mig MacGregor Stenmursbyggeren? Nej. Han peger ud ad vinduet. "Kan du se den skibsbro derude ved søen? Jeg har bygget den skibsbro med de bare næver. Jeg satte pæleværket i på trods af tidevandet og sandet, pæl for pæl. Men kalder de mig MacGregor Pæleværkbyggeren? Nej. Men knepper man én ged..."
A tourist is backpacking through the highlands of Scotland, and he stops at a pub to get a drink. And the only people in there is a bartender and an old man nursing a beer. And he orders a pint, and they sit in silence for a while. And suddenly the old man turns to him and goes, "You see this bar? I built this bar with my bare hands from the finest wood in the county. Gave it more love and care than my own child. But do they call me MacGregor the bar builder? No." Points out the window. "You see that stone wall out there? I built that stone wall with my bare hands. Found every stone, placed them just so through the rain and the cold. But do they call me MacGregor the stone wall builder? No." Points out the window. "You see that pier on the lake out there? I built that pier with my bare hands. Drove the pilings against the tide of the sand, plank by plank. But do they call me MacGregor the pier builder? No. But you fuck one goat ... "
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Fortællekunst -- (Latter) er vittighedsfortælling. Det er at kende sin pointe, sin slutning, at vide alt man vil sige, fra den første sætning til den sidste, leder en til et bestemt mål og ideelt set bekræfte en sandhed, der øger ens forståelse af, hvem vi er som mennesker. Vi elsker alle fortællinger. Vi er født til dem. Fortællinger bekræfter, hvem vi er. Vi vil alle have bekræftelse i, at der er en mening med vores liv. Og der er ikke noget, der giver en større bekræftelse end, når vi forbinder os via en fortælling. Det kan krydse tidsbarrierer, fortid, nutid og fremtid, og tillade os at opleve lighederne mellem os selv og gennem andre, virkelige og fiktive.
Storytelling -- (Laughter) is joke telling. It's knowing your punchline, your ending, knowing that everything you're saying, from the first sentence to the last, is leading to a singular goal, and ideally confirming some truth that deepens our understandings of who we are as human beings. We all love stories. We're born for them. Stories affirm who we are. We all want affirmations that our lives have meaning. And nothing does a greater affirmation than when we connect through stories. It can cross the barriers of time, past, present and future, and allow us to experience the similarities between ourselves and through others, real and imagined.
Børne-tv-værten Mr. Rogers havde altid i sin pung et citat fra en socialrådgiver, der sagde, "Faktisk, er der ikke nogen, du ikke kunne lære at elske, når du først har hørt deres historie." Og måden, hvorpå jeg gerne vil fortolke det, er muligvis den vigtigste underdel i en historie, som er "Fang mig" -- vær så venlig, emotionelt, intellektuelt, æstetisk, at få mig til at bekymre mig. Vi ved alle, hvordan det er ikke at bekymre sig om noget. Man har kigget gennem hundredvis af tv-kanaler, bare zappet fra kanal til kanal, og pludselig stopper man ved én. Det er allerede halvvejs forbi, men der er noget, der har fanget en, og man bliver draget, og man bekymrer sig. Det er ikke tilfældigt, det er med vilje.
The children's television host Mr. Rogers always carried in his wallet a quote from a social worker that said, "Frankly, there isn't anyone you couldn't learn to love once you've heard their story." And the way I like to interpret that is probably the greatest story commandment, which is "Make me care" -- please, emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically, just make me care. We all know what it's like to not care. You've gone through hundreds of TV channels, just switching channel after channel, and then suddenly you actually stop on one. It's already halfway over, but something's caught you and you're drawn in and you care. That's not by chance, that's by design.
Så det fik mig til at tænke, hvad hvis jeg fortalte jer, at min historie er fortælling, hvordan jeg blev født til det, hvordan jeg hen ad vejen lærte om dette emne? Og for at gøre det mere interessant, starter vi ved slutningen og fortsætter til begyndelsen. Så hvis jeg skal give jer slutningen af denne historie, ville det være noget i denne retning: Og det er, hvad der i sidste ende førte mig til at tale foran jer her ved TED om fortællinger.
So it got me thinking, what if I told you my history was story, how I was born for it, how I learned along the way this subject matter? And to make it more interesting, we'll start from the ending and we'll go to the beginning. And so if I were going to give you the ending of this story, it would go something like this: And that's what ultimately led me to speaking to you here at TED about story.
Og den mest aktuelle lektion om fortælling, jeg har fået, var at færdiggøre en film, jeg har lavet i år, i 2012. Filmen er "John Carter". Den er baseret på en bog, der hedder "[A] Princess of Mars", der er skrevet af Edgar Rice Burroughs. Og Edgar Rice Burroughs indsatte faktisk sig selv som karakter i denne film, og som fortælleren. Og han bliver tilkaldt af sin rige onkel, John Carter, til hans palæ med et telegram, hvor der står, "Kom med det samme." Men da han når frem, finder han ud af, at hans onkel på mystisk vis er død og er blevet begravet i et mausoleum på grunden.
And the most current story lesson that I've had was completing the film I've just done this year in 2012. The film is "John Carter." It's based on a book called "The Princess of Mars," which was written by Edgar Rice Burroughs. And Edgar Rice Burroughs actually put himself as a character inside this movie, and as the narrator. And he's summoned by his rich uncle, John Carter, to his mansion with a telegram saying, "See me at once." But once he gets there, he's found out that his uncle has mysteriously passed away and been entombed in a mausoleum on the property.
(Video) Butler: Du finder ikke et nøglehul. Den kan kun åbnes indefra. Han insisterede, ingen balsamering, ingen åben kiste, ingen begravelse. Man tilegner sig ikke den rigdom, din onkel havde ved at være ligesom resten af os, vel? Kom, lad os gå indenfor.
(Video) Butler: You won't find a keyhole. Thing only opens from the inside. He insisted, no embalming, no open coffin, no funeral. You don't acquire the kind of wealth your uncle commanded by being like the rest of us, huh? Come, let's go inside.
AS: Hvad denne scene gør, og den gjorde det i bogen, er, at den grundlæggende giver et løfte. Den giver en et løfte om, at denne historie vil føre én til et sted, der er umagen værd. Og det er, hvad alle gode historier bør gøre i starten, de bør give én et løfte. Det kan gøres på et uendeligt antal måder. Nogen gange er det så simpelt som "Der var engang ..." Disse Carter bøger havde altid Edgar Rice Burroughs som fortæller. Og jeg synes altid, det var sådan en fantastisk opfindelse. Det er ligesom fyren, der inviterer én til lejrbålet, eller nogen i en bar, der siger "Her, lad mig fortælle dig en fortælling. Det skete ikke for mig, det skete for en anden, men det bliver umagen værd." Et godt fortalt løfte er ligesom en sten, der bliver spændt i en slangebøsse og fører en videre gennem historien til slutningen.
AS: What this scene is doing, and it did in the book, is it's fundamentally making a promise. It's making a promise to you that this story will lead somewhere that's worth your time. And that's what all good stories should do at the beginning, is they should give you a promise. You could do it an infinite amount of ways. Sometimes it's as simple as "Once upon a time ... " These Carter books always had Edgar Rice Burroughs as a narrator in it. And I always thought it was such a fantastic device. It's like a guy inviting you around the campfire, or somebody in a bar saying, "Here, let me tell you a story. It didn't happen to me, it happened to somebody else, but it's going to be worth your time." A well told promise is like a pebble being pulled back in a slingshot and propels you forward through the story to the end.
I 2008 drev jeg alle teorier, jeg havde om fortællinger på det tidspunkt, til grænserne af min forståelse omkring projektet.
In 2008, I pushed all the theories that I had on story at the time to the limits of my understanding on this project.
(Video) (Mekaniske Lyde) ♫ Og det er alt ♫ ♫ som kærlighed handler om ♫ ♫ Og vi husker ♫ ♫ når tiden rinder ud ♫ ♫ At det kun ♫ (Latter)
(Video) (Mechanical Sounds) ♫ And that is all ♫ ♫ that love's about ♫ ♫ And we'll recall ♫ ♫ when time runs out ♫ ♫ That it only ♫ (Laughter)
AS: Fortællinger uden dialog. Det er den reneste form for filmiske fortællinger. Det er den mest inkluderende vinkel, man kan tage. Det bekræftede noget, jeg virkelig havde en fornemmelse omkring, det at publikum faktisk vil arbejde for maden. De vil bare ikke vide, at de gør det. Det er ens job som fortæller, at skjule kendsgerningen, at man lader dem arbejde for maden. Vi er fødte problemknusere. Vi føler os draget til at udlede og fratrække, fordi det er, hvad vi gør i det virkelige liv. Det er dette velorganiserede fravær af information, der tiltrækker os. Der er en grund til, at vi alle er tiltrukket af et spædbarn eller en hundehvalp. Det er ikke kun det, at de er forbandet nuttede; det er fordi, de ikke helt kan udtrykke, hvad de tænker, og hvad deres intentioner er. Og det er ligesom en magnet. Vi kan ikke stoppe os selv fra at ville færdiggøre sætningen og udfylde den.
AS: Storytelling without dialogue. It's the purest form of cinematic storytelling. It's the most inclusive approach you can take. It confirmed something I really had a hunch on, is that the audience actually wants to work for their meal. They just don't want to know that they're doing that. That's your job as a storyteller, is to hide the fact that you're making them work for their meal. We're born problem solvers. We're compelled to deduce and to deduct, because that's what we do in real life. It's this well-organized absence of information that draws us in. There's a reason that we're all attracted to an infant or a puppy. It's not just that they're damn cute; it's because they can't completely express what they're thinking and what their intentions are. And it's like a magnet. We can't stop ourselves from wanting to complete the sentence and fill it in.
Jeg begyndte egentlig først at forstå denne fortællermekanisme, da jeg skrev sammen med Bob Peterson på "Find Nemo." Og vi kunne kalde dette den samlende teori om to plus to. Få publikum til at sætte tingene sammen. Giv dem ikke fire, giv dem to plus to. Elementerne, man giver, og rækkefølgen man placerer dem i, er altafgørende for, om det lykkes eller mislykkes at engagere publikum. Redaktører og manuskriptforfattere har altid vidst dette. Det er den usynlige applikation, der fastholder vores opmærksomhed til historien. Jeg vil ikke få det til at lyde, som om det her er en nøjagtig videnskab, det er det ikke. Det er, hvad der er så specielt omkring fortællinger, de er ikke en widget, de er ikke nøjagtige. Fortællinger er uundgåelige, hvis de er gode, men de er ikke forudsigelige.
I first started really understanding this storytelling device when I was writing with Bob Peterson on "Finding Nemo." And we would call this the unifying theory of two plus two. Make the audience put things together. Don't give them four, give them two plus two. The elements you provide and the order you place them in is crucial to whether you succeed or fail at engaging the audience. Editors and screenwriters have known this all along. It's the invisible application that holds our attention to story. I don't mean to make it sound like this is an actual exact science, it's not. That's what's so special about stories, they're not a widget, they aren't exact. Stories are inevitable, if they're good, but they're not predictable.
Jeg tog et seminar i år hos en lærer, der er skuespiller, Judith Weston. Og jeg fik en vigtig indsigt i karakter. Hun mener, at alle velskrevne karakterer har en rygrad. Og ideen er, at karakteren har en indre motor, et fremtrædende, ubevidst mål, som de stræber efter, en uimodståelig trang. Hun gav et vidunderligt eksempel af Michael Corleone, Al Pacinos karakter i "The Godfather", og hans rygrad var formentlig at gøre sin far tilpas. Og det var noget, der altid drev hans valg. Selv efter hans far døde, havde han stadig denne uimodståelige trang. Jeg havde det som en fisk i vandet. Wall-E's var at finde skønhed. Marlins, faderen i "Find Nemo," var at forhindre fortræd. Og Woodys var at gøre, hvad der var bedst for sit barn. Og disse rygrader driver ikke altid én til at træffe de bedste beslutninger. Nogle gange kan de få én til at træffe nogle forfærdelig valg.
I took a seminar in this year with an acting teacher named Judith Weston. And I learned a key insight to character. She believed that all well-drawn characters have a spine. And the idea is that the character has an inner motor, a dominant, unconscious goal that they're striving for, an itch that they can't scratch. She gave a wonderful example of Michael Corleone, Al Pacino's character in "The Godfather," and that probably his spine was to please his father. And it's something that always drove all his choices. Even after his father died, he was still trying to scratch that itch. I took to this like a duck to water. Wall-E's was to find the beauty. Marlin's, the father in "Finding Nemo," was to prevent harm. And Woody's was to do what was best for his child. And these spines don't always drive you to make the best choices. Sometimes you can make some horrible choices with them.
Jeg er virkelig velsignet ved at være forælder og ved at se mine børn vokse, tror jeg virkelig, at man er født med et temperament, og at man er skruet sammen på en bestemt måde, og at man ikke kan bestemme over det selv, og at man ikke kan ændre det. Det eneste, man kan gøre, er at lære at erkende det og indrømme det. Nogle af os er født med temperament, der er positive, nogle er negative. Men en stor grænse bliver overskredet, når man udvikler sig nok til at anerkende, hvad der driver en og til at tage styringen. Som forælder, lærer man hele tiden, hvem ens børn er. De lærer, hvem de er. Og man lærer stadig, hvem man selv er. Så vi lærer hele tiden. Og derfor er forandring fundamental i en fortælling. Hvis tingene bliver statiske, dør fortællingen, fordi livet aldrig er statisk.
I'm really blessed to be a parent, and watching my children grow, I really firmly believe that you're born with a temperament and you're wired a certain way, and you don't have any say about it, and there's no changing it. All you can do is learn to recognize it and own it. And some of us are born with temperaments that are positive, some are negative. But a major threshold is passed when you mature enough to acknowledge what drives you and to take the wheel and steer it. As parents, you're always learning who your children are. They're learning who they are. And you're still learning who you are. So we're all learning all the time. And that's why change is fundamental in story. If things go static, stories die, because life is never static.
I 1998 blev jeg færdig med at skrive "Toy Story" og "Græsrødderne," og jeg var helt vild med at være manuskriptforfatter. Så jeg havde lyst til at blive meget bedre til det og lære alt, jeg kunne. Så jeg undersøgte alt, jeg kunne komme til. Og til sidst fandt jeg dette fantastiske citat af en britisk skuespilforfatter, William Archer: "Drama er forventning blandet med usikkerhed. Det er en utrolig indsigtsfuld definition.
In 1998, I had finished writing "Toy Story" and "A Bug's Life" and I was completely hooked on screenwriting. So I wanted to become much better at it and learn anything I could. So I researched everything I possibly could. And I finally came across this fantastic quote by a British playwright, William Archer: "Drama is anticipation mingled with uncertainty." It's an incredibly insightful definition.
Når man fortæller en fortælling, har man så konstrueret forventning? På kort sigt har du fået mig til at ville vide, hvad der vil ske dernæst? Men vigtigere, har du fået mig til at ville vide, hvordan det alt sammen vil blive afrundet på lang sigt? Har du konstrueret ærlige konflikter med sandheden, der frembringer tvivl i, hvad udfaldet mon bliver? Et eksempel ville være i "Find Nemo," i den korte spænding, var man altid bekymret, ville Dory's korttidshukommelse få hende til at glemme, hvad hun fik at vide af Marlin. Men under det, var der denne globale spænding, om vi nogensinde ville finde Nemo i dette kæmpestore, vidtstrakte ocean?
When you're telling a story, have you constructed anticipation? In the short-term, have you made me want to know what will happen next? But more importantly, have you made me want to know how it will all conclude in the long-term? Have you constructed honest conflicts with truth that creates doubt in what the outcome might be? An example would be in "Finding Nemo," in the short tension, you were always worried, would Dory's short-term memory make her forget whatever she was being told by Marlin. But under that was this global tension of will we ever find Nemo in this huge, vast ocean?
I vores første dage hos Pixar, før vi forstod de usynlige mekanismer af fortællinger, var vi kun en gruppe gutter, der bare gik efter vores mavefornemmelse, vores instinkt. Og det er interessant at se, hvordan det ledte os hen til steder, der faktisk var ret gode. Man bliver nødt til at huske, at i denne tid, 1993, var de succesfulde animationsfilm film som "Den Lille Havfrue", "Skønheden og Udyret", "Aladdin", "Løvernes Konge." Så da vi lavede vores oplæg til "Toy Story" til Tom Hanks for første gang, kom han ind og sagde, "I vil ikke have mig til at synge, vil I?" Og jeg syntes, det perfekt fangede, hvad alle troede, animation skulle være på det tidspunkt. Men vi ville virkelig gerne bevise, at man kunne fortælle fortællinger på en helt anden måde med animation.
In our earliest days at Pixar, before we truly understood the invisible workings of story, we were simply a group of guys just going on our gut, going on our instincts. And it's interesting to see how that led us places that were actually pretty good. You've got to remember that in this time of year, 1993, what was considered a successful animated picture was "The Little Mermaid," "Beauty and the Beast," "Aladdin," "Lion King." So when we pitched "Toy Story" to Tom Hanks for the first time, he walked in and he said, "You don't want me to sing, do you?" And I thought that epitomized perfectly what everybody thought animation had to be at the time. But we really wanted to prove that you could tell stories completely different in animation.
Vi havde ikke nogen indflydelse dengang, så vi havde en lille hemmelig liste med regler, som vi holdt for os selv. Og de var: Ingen sange, ikke noget "Jeg vil have" øjeblik, ingen glad landsby, ingen kærlighedshistorie. Og ironien er, at i det første år, fungerede vores fortælling slet ikke, og Disney begyndte at panikke. Så de fik råd, under fire øjne, fra en kendt sangskriver, som jeg ikke vil navngive, og han faxede nogle forslag til dem. Og vi så den fax. Og i faxen stod der, at der skulle være sange, der skulle være en "Jeg vil have" sang, der skulle være en glad landsby sang, der skulle være en kærlighedshistorie, og der skulle være en skurk. Og gudskelov var vi bare for unge, rebelske og modsatte på det tidspunkt. Det gav os bare endnu mere beslutsomhed til at bevise, at man kunne bygge en bedre fortælling. Og et år efter det, overvandt vi det. Og det beviste bare, at fortællinger har retningslinjer, ikke hårde, faste regler.
We didn't have any influence then, so we had a little secret list of rules that we kept to ourselves. And they were: No songs, no "I want" moment, no happy village, no love story. And the irony is that, in the first year, our story was not working at all and Disney was panicking. So they privately got advice from a famous lyricist, who I won't name, and he faxed them some suggestions. And we got a hold of that fax. And the fax said, there should be songs, there should be an "I want" song, there should be a happy village song, there should be a love story and there should be a villain. And thank goodness we were just too young, rebellious and contrarian at the time. That just gave us more determination to prove that you could build a better story. And a year after that, we did conquer it. And it just went to prove that storytelling has guidelines, not hard, fast rules.
En anden fundamental ting, vi lærte, var omkring at elske ens hovedperson. Og vi troede naivt, at jamen Woody i "Toy Story" skal blive uselvisk i slutningen, så man skal begynde et sted. Så lad os gøre ham selvisk. Og dette er, hvad man får.
Another fundamental thing we learned was about liking your main character. And we had naively thought, well Woody in "Toy Story" has to become selfless at the end, so you've got to start from someplace. So let's make him selfish. And this is what you get.
(Indtaling) Woody: Hvad tror du, du laver? Ned fra sengen. Hey, ned fra sengen! Mr. Potato Head: Får du os til det, Woody? Woody: Nej, det gør han. Slinky? Slink... Slinky! Kom herop og gør dit arbejde. Er du døv? Jeg sagde, tag dig af dem. Slinky: Jeg er ked af det, Woody, men jeg er enig med dem. Jeg synes ikke, det, du gjorde, var i orden. Woody: Hvad? Hører jeg rigtigt? Du synes ikke, jeg havde ret? Hvem sagde, dit arbejde var at tænke, fjederhoved?
(Voice Over) Woody: What do you think you're doing? Off the bed. Hey, off the bed! Mr. Potato Head: You going to make us, Woody? Woody: No, he is. Slinky? Slink ... Slinky! Get up here and do your job. Are you deaf? I said, take care of them. Slinky: I'm sorry, Woody, but I have to agree with them. I don't think what you did was right. Woody: What? Am I hearing correctly? You don't think I was right? Who said your job was to think, Spring Wiener?
AS: Så hvordan gør man en selvisk karakter sympatisk? Vi indså, at man kan gøre ham venlig, generøs, sjov, betænksom, så længe, at ét vilkår er imødekommet for ham, at han forbliver det bedste legetøj. Og det er, hvad det virkelig er, at vi alle lever livet med forbehold. Vi er alle villige til at lege efter reglerne og følge med tingene, så længe, at visse krav bliver imødekommet. Derefter, er der ikke noget, der er sikkert. Og før jeg overhovedet havde overvejet, at min karriere skulle være fortællinger, kan jeg nu se nøglehændelser, der skete i min barndom, som virkelig åbnede mine øjne for nogle ting omkring fortællinger.
AS: So how do you make a selfish character likable? We realized, you can make him kind, generous, funny, considerate, as long as one condition is met for him, is that he stays the top toy. And that's what it really is, is that we all live life conditionally. We're all willing to play by the rules and follow things along, as long as certain conditions are met. After that, all bets are off. And before I'd even decided to make storytelling my career, I can now see key things that happened in my youth that really sort of opened my eyes to certain things about story.
I 1986 forstod jeg virkelig ideen af, at fortællinger havde et tema. Og det var det år, de restaurerede og genudgav "Lawrence af Arabien." Og jeg så den film syv gange på en måned. Jeg kunne ikke få nok af den. Jeg kunne bare fornemme, der var en større plan -- i hver optagelse, hver scene, hver replik. Men på overfladen virkede det som om, det gengav hans historiske afstamning af det, der foregik. Alligevel kunne der siges mere. Hvad var det præcist? Og det var ikke indtil, ved et af mine senere gensyn, at det slør blev løftet, og det var i en scene, hvor han er gået hen over Sinaiørkenen,, og han er nået til Suezkanalen, og jeg forstod det pludseligt.
In 1986, I truly understood the notion of story having a theme. And that was the year that they restored and re-released "Lawrence of Arabia." And I saw that thing seven times in one month. I couldn't get enough of it. I could just tell there was a grand design under it -- in every shot, every scene, every line. Yet, on the surface it just seemed to be depicting his historical lineage of what went on. Yet, there was something more being said. What exactly was it? And it wasn't until, on one of my later viewings, that the veil was lifted and it was in a scene where he's walked across the Sinai Desert and he's reached the Suez Canal, and I suddenly got it.
(Video) Dreng: Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Motorcyklist: Hvem er du? Hvem er du?
(Video) Boy: Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Cyclist: Who are you? Who are you?
AS: Det var temaet: Hvem er du? Her var alle disse tilsyneladende forskellige begivenheder og dialoger, der kronologisk bare fortalte historien om ham, men under det var en konstant, en retningslinje, et vejkort. Alt, Lawrence gjorde i den film, var et forsøg fra ham på at finde ud af, hvor hans plads i verden var. Et stærkt tema er altid gennemgående i en godt fortalt fortælling.
AS: That was the theme: Who are you? Here were all these seemingly disparate events and dialogues that just were chronologically telling the history of him, but underneath it was a constant, a guideline, a road map. Everything Lawrence did in that movie was an attempt for him to figure out where his place was in the world. A strong theme is always running through a well-told story.
Da jeg var fem, blev jeg introduceret til måske den største ingrediens, som jeg føler en fortælling skal have, men som sjældent bliver brugt. Og dette er, hvad min moder tog mig med til at se, da jeg var fem.
When I was five, I was introduced to possibly the most major ingredient that I feel a story should have, but is rarely invoked. And this is what my mother took me to when I was five.
(Video) Thumper: Kom nu. Det er i orden. Se. Vandet er stift. Bambi: Yippee! Thumper: Ret sjovt, hva' Bambi? Kom nu. Rejs dig op. Sådan her. Ha ha. Nej, nej, nej.
(Video) Thumper: Come on. It's all right. Look. The water's stiff. Bambi: Yippee! Thumper: Some fun, huh, Bambi? Come on. Get up. Like this. Ha ha. No, no, no.
AS: Jeg gik ud derfra med øjnene store af beundring. Og det er, hvad jeg mener den magiske ingrediens er, den hemmelige sauce, er, at man kan indgyde forundring. Forundring er ærligt, det er fuldstændig uskyldigt. Det kan ikke fremkaldes kunstigt. For mig er der ikke nogen større evne end evnen til, at et andet menneske kan give en den følelse -- at kunne stoppe dem et kort øjeblik i løbet af deres dag og få dem til at overgive sig til forundring. Når det bliver udnyttet, bekræftelsen af at være i live, det kan næsten nå ind til en på celleniveau. Og når en kunstner gør det ved en anden kunstner, er det som om man er tvunget til at give det videre. Det er som en latent kommando, der pludselig bliver aktiveret inden i en, som et kald til Devil's Tower. Gør mod andre, som er blevet gjort mod dig selv. De bedste fortællinger indgyder forundring.
AS: I walked out of there wide-eyed with wonder. And that's what I think the magic ingredient is, the secret sauce, is can you invoke wonder. Wonder is honest, it's completely innocent. It can't be artificially evoked. For me, there's no greater ability than the gift of another human being giving you that feeling -- to hold them still just for a brief moment in their day and have them surrender to wonder. When it's tapped, the affirmation of being alive, it reaches you almost to a cellular level. And when an artist does that to another artist, it's like you're compelled to pass it on. It's like a dormant command that suddenly is activated in you, like a call to Devil's Tower. Do unto others what's been done to you. The best stories infuse wonder.
Da jeg var fire år gammel, har jeg et levende minde af at finde to prik-lignende ar på min ankel og spurgte min far, hvad de var. Og han sagde, at jeg havde et lignende sæt på mit hoved, men at jeg ikke kunne se det på grund af mit hår. Og han forklarede, at da jeg blev født, blev jeg født for tidligt, at jeg kom alt for tidligt ud, og at jeg ikke var bagt helt færdig; jeg var meget, meget syg. Og da lægen kiggede på denne gule dreng, med sorte tænder kiggede han direkte på min mor og sagde, "Han kommer ikke til at overleve". Og jeg var i det sygehus i månedsvis. Og mange blodtransfusioner senere, overlevede jeg, og det gjorde mig speciel.
When I was four years old, I have a vivid memory of finding two pinpoint scars on my ankle and asking my dad what they were. And he said I had a matching pair like that on my head, but I couldn't see them because of my hair. And he explained that when I was born, I was born premature, that I came out much too early, and I wasn't fully baked; I was very, very sick. And when the doctor took a look at this yellow kid with black teeth, he looked straight at my mom and said, "He's not going to live." And I was in the hospital for months. And many blood transfusions later, I lived, and that made me special.
Og jeg ved ikke, om jeg egentlig tror på det. Jeg ved ikke, om mine forældre rigtig tror på det, men jeg ville ikke bevise, at de tog fejl. Hvad jeg end ville ende med at blive god til, ville jeg stræbe efter at være værdig til den ekstra chance, jeg fik.
I don't know if I really believe that. I don't know if my parents really believe that, but I didn't want to prove them wrong. Whatever I ended up being good at, I would strive to be worthy of the second chance I was given.
(Video) (Gråd) Marlin: Så, så, så. Det er okay, far er her. Far har dig. Jeg lover, at jeg aldrig vil lade noget dårligt overkomme dig, Nemo.
(Video) (Crying) Marlin: There, there, there. It's okay, daddy's here. Daddy's got you. I promise, I will never let anything happen to you, Nemo.
AS: Og det er den første fortælling, jeg nogensinde lærte. Brug hvad du har lært. Træk på det. Det betyder ikke altid, at det er et plot eller et faktum. Det betyder, at man fanger en sandhed ved at opleve det, at udtrykke personlige værdier, man føler dybt i ens indre. Og det var, hvad der i sidste ende førte mig til at tale til jer her ved TEDTalk i dag.
AS: And that's the first story lesson I ever learned. Use what you know. Draw from it. It doesn't always mean plot or fact. It means capturing a truth from your experiencing it, expressing values you personally feel deep down in your core. And that's what ultimately led me to speaking to you here at TEDTalk today.
Tak.
Thank you.
(Bifald)
(Applause)