A few years ago, I set out on a mission to find God. Now, I'm going to tell you right up front that I failed, which, as a lawyer, is a really hard thing for me to admit. But on that failed journey, a lot of what I found was enlightening. And one thing in particular gave me a lot of hope. It has to do with the magnitude and significance of our differences.
Beberapa tahun yang lalu, saya mempunyai misi untuk menemukan Tuhan. Saya akan mengakui kegagalan saya di hadapan Anda, yaitu, sebagai pengacara, merupakan hal yang sulit diakui. Tapi, dalam misi yang gagal tersebut, saya menemukan banyak pencerahan. Satu hal spesifik memberikan harapan yang besar bagi saya. Hal itu berhubungan dengan betapa besar, dan pentingnya perbedaan kita.
So, I was raised in America by Indian parents -- culturally Hindu, but practicing a strict and relatively unknown religion outside of India called Jainism. To give you an idea of just how minority that makes me: people from India represent roughly one percent of the US population; Hindus, about 0.7 percent; Jains, at most .00046 percent. To put that in context: more people visit the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory each year than are followers of the Jain religion in America. To add to my minority mix, my parents then decided, "What a great idea! Let's send her to Catholic school" --
Saya dibesarkan di Amerika oleh keluarga India -- secara adat Hindu, tapi menjalankan sebuah agama yang ketat, dan relatif tidak dikenal di luar India, yang disebut Jainisme. Sebagai gambaran seberapa minoritasnya saya: orang dari India di Amerika kira-kira adalah satu persen dari populasi AS; orang Hindu, kira-kira 0,7 persen; orang Jain, paling banyak 0,00046 persen. Untuk membandingkannya; lebih banyak yang pergi ke pabrik Teddy Bear di Vermont tiap tahun daripada pengikut agama Jain di Amerika. Untuk memperparah keminoritasan, keluarga saya memutuskan, "Ide yang bagus! Masukkan dia ke sekolah Katolik" --
(Laughter)
(Penonton tertawa)
where my sister and I were the only non-white, non-Catholic students in the entire school.
di sekolah itu, cuma adik saya, dan saya, siswa yang tak berkulit putih, dan bukan Katolik.
At the Infant Jesus of Prague School in Flossmoor, Illinois -- yes, that's really what it was called -- we were taught to believe that there is a single Supreme Being who is responsible for everything, the whole shebang, from the creation of the Universe to moral shepherding to eternal life. But at home, I was being taught something entirely different. Followers of the Jain religion don't believe in a single Supreme Being or even a team of Supreme Beings. Instead, we're taught that God manifests as the perfection of each of us as individuals, and that we're actually spending our entire lives striving to remove the bad karmas that stand in the way of us becoming our own godlike, perfect selves. On top of that, one of the core principles of Jainism is something called "non-absolutism." Non-absolutists believe that no single person can hold ownership or knowledge of absolute truth, even when it comes to religious beliefs. Good luck testing that concept out on the priests and nuns in your Catholic school.
Di Sekolah Bayi Yesus dari Prague di Flossmoor, Illinois -- begitulah sebutannya waktu itu -- kami diajarkan untuk percaya bahwa hanya ada satu Makhluk Berkuasa yang bertanggung jawab atas semuanya, semua peristiwa, dari penciptaan alam semesta hingga penggembalaan moral, dan kehidupan abadi. Tapi di rumah, saya diajarkan sesuatu yang sangat berbeda. Pengikut agama Jain tidak percaya adanya satu Makhluk Berkuasa, maupun kumpulan Makhluk Berkuasa. Namun, kami diajarkan bahwa Tuhan menjelma sebagai kesempurnaan dari setiap individu, dan sebenarnya sepanjang kehidupan, kita berusaha menghapus karma jahat yang menghalangi kita menjadi Tuhan kita sendiri, diri yang sempurna. Bukan hanya itu, salah satu prinsip Jainisme yang disebut "non-absolutis." Non-absolutis percaya bahwa tak satu orang pun dapat mempunyai, atau mengetahui kebenaran yang pasti, termasuk pengetahuan tentang agama. Semoga para pendeta, dan biarawati di sekolah Katolik bisa membuktikan konsep itu.
(Laughter)
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No wonder I was confused and hyperaware of how different I was from my peers. Cut to 20-something years later, and I found myself to be a highly spiritual person, but I was floundering. I was spiritually homeless. I came to learn that I was a "None," which isn't an acronym or a clever play on words, nor is it one of these. It's simply the painfully uninspired name given to everyone who checks off the box "none" when Pew Research asks them about their religious affiliation.
Karena itu saya bingung, dan sangat menyadari betapa berbedanya saya dengan teman-teman. Singkat cerita, 20 tahun kemudian, saya menyadari bahwa diri saya sangat spiritual, tapi saya kebingungan. Secara rohani saya merasa hampa. Saya menyadari bahwa saya adalah seorang "Non," itu bukanlah sebuah akronim, atau permainan kata, bukan pula seorang biarawati. Itu hanyalah sebutan biasa yang diberikan kepada setiap orang yang mencentang kotak "Non," ketika peneliti Pew menanyakan tentang agama mereka.
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Now, a couple of interesting things about Nones are: there are a lot of us, and we skew young. In 2014, there were over 56 million religiously unaffiliated Nones in the United States. And Nones account for over one-third of adults between the ages of 18 to 33. But the most interesting thing to me about Nones is that we're often spiritual. In fact, 68 percent of us believe, with some degree of certainty, that there is a God. We're just not sure who it is.
Beberapa hal menarik tentang para Non adalah: jumlah kami banyak, dan kami cenderung muda. Pada tahun 2014, lebih dari 56 juta orang Non yang tak tergabung agama apa pun di Amerika Serikat. Dan sepertiga dari orang dewasa merupakan Non yang berumur antara 18 hingga 33. Tapi hal yang paling menarik tentang para Non adalah sebagian besar dari kami adalah spiritual. Faktanya, 68 persen dari kami percaya, dengan tingkat keyakinan tertentu, bahwa Tuhan itu ada. Kami hanya belum tahu siapa itu.
(Laughter)
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So the first takeaway for me when I realized I was a None and had found that information out was that I wasn't alone. I was finally part of a group in America that had a lot of members, which felt really reassuring. But then the second, not-so-reassuring takeaway was that, oh, man, there are a lot of us. That can't be good, because if a lot of highly spiritual people are currently godless, maybe finding God is not going to be as easy as I had originally hoped.
Kesimpulan yang saya dapatkan, ketika menyadari bahwa saya adalah Non, dan mendapati bahwa saya tidaklah sendirian. Akhirnya saya jadi bagian grup di Amerika yang mempunyai banyak anggota, yang rasanya menentramkan. Tapi kemudian, kesimpulan yang tidak menentramkan yaitu, aduh, jumlah kita banyak. Itu tidak baik, karena jika banyak orang yang spiritual, tetapi tidak mempunyai Tuhan, mungkin menemukan Tuhan tidaklah semudah yang diharapkan.
So that is when I decided that on my spiritual journey, I was going to avoid the obvious places and skip the big-box religions altogether and instead venture out into the spiritual fringe of mediums and faith healers and godmen. But remember, I'm a non-absolutist, which means I was pretty inclined to keep a fairly open mind, which turned out to be a good thing, because I went to a witch's potluck dinner at the LGBT Center in New York City, where I befriended two witches; drank a five-gallon jerrican full of volcanic water with a shaman in Peru; got a hug from a saint in the convention center -- she smelled really nice --
Saat itulah saya memutuskan bahwa dalam perjalanan spiritual, saya hendak menghindari tempat yang pasti, melewatkan semua gereja besar, dan sebagai gantinya akan menjelajah sisi-sisi spiritual, seperti cenayang, dan penyembuh iman, dan penyembah dewa. Tapi ingat, saya seorang non-absolutis, yang artinya saya cenderung untuk tetap berpikiran terbuka, yang ternyata merupakan sesuatu yang bagus, karena saya pernah makan malam dengan cenayang di Lembaga LGBT di kota New York, dan berteman dengan dua cenayang; minum lima galon jerigen penuh dengan air vulkanik dengan seorang dukun di Peru; mendapat pelukan dari santo di gedung serbaguna -- aroma tubuhnya wangi --
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chanted for hours in a smoke-filled, heat-infused sweat lodge on the beaches of Mexico; worked with a tequila-drinking medium to convene with the dead, who oddly included both my deceased mother-in-law and the deceased manager of the hip-hop group The Roots.
menyanyi berjam-jam di pondok yang panas, dan penuh dengan asap di pantai Meksiko; bekerja dengan cenayang yang minum tequila untuk bertemu orang mati, yang anehnya, termasuk bertemu dengan mertua saya yang sudah meninggal, dan manajer dari grup hip-hop The Roots yang sudah meninggal.
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Yeah, my mother-in-law told me she was really happy her son had chosen me for his wife. Duh! But --
Ibu mertua saya bilang beliau sangat senang, karena putranya memilih saya sebagai istri. Aduh! Tapi --
(Laughter)
(Penonton tertawa)
Yeah. But the manager of The Roots said that maybe I should cut back on all the pasta I was eating. I think we can all agree that it was lucky for my husband that it wasn't his dead mother who suggested I lay off carbs.
Iya. Tapi manajer dari The Roots berkata bahwa saya harus mengurangi pasta yang saya makan waktu itu. Saya rasa kita semua setuju, untung bukan almarhum ibu suami saya yang menyarankan agar saya mengurangi karbo.
(Laughter)
(Tertawa)
I also joined a laughing yoga group out of South Africa; witnessed a woman have a 45-minute orgasm -- I am not making this up -- as she tapped into the energy of the universe -- I think I'm going to go back there --
Saya juga bergabung dengan grup yoga tertawa di luar Afrika Selatan; menyaksikan seorang wanita yang mengalami orgasme selama 45 menit -- ini benar -- sembari dia membuka energi semesta -- Mungkin saya akan kembali ke sana --
(Laughter)
(Penonton tertawa)
called God from a phone booth in the Nevada desert at Burning Man, wearing a unitard and ski goggles; and I had an old Indian guy lie on top of me, and no, he wasn't my husband. This was a perfect stranger named Paramji, and he was chanting into my chakras as he tapped into the energy forces of the Universe to heal my "yoni," which is a Sanskrit word for "vagina."
memanggil Tuhan dari bilik telepon di gurun Nevada saat Ritual Pembakaran, memakai unitard, dan kacamata ski; dan ada seorang pria India berbaring di atas saya, dia bukan suami saya. Dia adalah orang tak dikenal yang bernama Paramji, dia membacakan mantera ke cakra saya, sembari memanggil kekuatan energi alam semesta untuk mengobati "yoni" saya yaitu kata Sanskrit untuk "vagina."
(Laughter)
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I was going to have a slide here, but a few people suggested that a slide of my yoni at TED -- even TEDWomen -- not the best idea.
Saya mau menambah gambar slide, tapi beberapa orang berkata, bahwa sebuah gambar slide yoni saya di TED -- meskipun TEDWomen -- bukanlah ide yang bagus.
(Laughter)
(Penonton tertawa)
Very early in my quest, I also went to see the Brazilian faith healer John of God at his compound down in Brazil. Now, John of God is considered a full-trance medium, which basically means he can talk to dead people. But in his case, he claims to channel a very specific group of dead saints and doctors in order to heal whatever's wrong with you. And although John of God does not have a medical degree or even a high school diploma, he actually performs surgery -- the real kind, with a scalpel, but no anesthesia. Yeah, I don't know. He also offers invisible surgery, where there is no cutting, and surrogate surgery, where he supposedly can treat somebody who is thousands of miles away by performing a procedure on a loved one.
Pada awal pencarian, saya mendatangi penyembuh iman dari Brazil bernama John of God di kampnya di Brazil. John of God bisa dibilang perantara roh, yang artinya dia bisa berbicara dengan orang mati. Tapi, dia mengklaim bahwa dirinya adalah perantara untuk kelompok tertentu, yaitu para santo, dan dokter untuk menyembuhkan apa pun masalah kalian. Dan walaupun John of God tidak mempunyai gelar medis, atau pun ijazah SMA, dia benar-benar melakukan operasi -- yang nyata, dengan pisau bedah, tanpa anestesi, Entahlah. Dia juga menawarkan operasi tak terlihat, tanpa pembedahan, dan operasi pengganti, sehingga dia bisa menangani orang yang berada ribuan mil jauhnya lewat perantaraan orang terdekat.
Now, when you go to visit John of God, there are all kinds of rules and regulations. It's a whole complicated thing, but the bottom line is that you can visit John of God and present him with three things that you would like fixed, and he will set the dead saints and doctors to work on your behalf to get the job done.
Jika bertemu John of God, ada banyak peraturan. Proses yang sangat kompleks, tapi pada dasarnya semua orang bisa bertemu John of God, dan menunjukkan tiga hal yang ingin diselesaikan, lalu dia akan mengirim santo, dan dokter untuk memecahkan masalah atas nama Anda.
(Laughter)
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Now, before you snicker, consider that, at least according to his website, over eight million people -- including Oprah, the Goddess of Daytime TV -- have gone to see John of God, and I was pre-wired to keep an open mind. But to be honest, the whole thing for me was kind of weird and inconclusive, and in the end, I flew home, even more confused than I already started out. But that doesn't mean I came home empty-handed.
Sebelum tertawa terbahak-bahak, renungkanlah, bahwa berdasarkan situs webnya, lebih dari delapan juta orang -- termasuk Oprah, Sang Dewi Siang TV -- telah menemui John of God, dan saya telah terprogram untuk berpikiran terbuka. Tapi sejujurnya, semua hal itu sangatlah aneh, dan tidak berarti, pada akhirnya, saya pulang, menjadi lebih bingung dari sebelumnya. Tapi bukan berarti pulang dengan tangan kosong.
In the weeks leading up to my trip to Brazil, I mentioned my upcoming plans to some friends and to a couple of colleagues at Google, where I was a lawyer at the time. And I might have mentioned it to a couple more people because I'm chatty, including my neighbor, the guy who works at the local coffee shop I go to each morning, the checkout lady at Whole Foods and a stranger who sat next to me on the subway. I told each of them where I was going and why, and I offered to carry three wishes of theirs down to Brazil, explaining that anyone going to see John of God could act as a proxy for others and save them the trip. And to my surprise, my in-box overflowed. Friends told friends who told friends, and those friends apparently told more friends, other strangers and the guys at their coffee shops, until it seemed that days before I left for Brazil that there was no one who did not have my email address. And at the time, all I could conclude was that I had offered too much to too many. But when I actually reread those messages a few years later, I noticed something completely different. Those emails actually shared three commonalities, the first of which was rather curious.
Beberapa minggu sebelum perjalanan ke Brazil, saya menyampaikan rencana tersebut kepada beberapa teman, dan juga beberapa rekan kerja di Google, waktu itu saya pengacara di sana. Mungkin saya ceritakan rencana ini kepada orang lain, karena saya suka ngobrol, juga dengan tetangga, orang yang bekerja di kafe yang saya kunjungi setiap hari, wanita kasir di Whole Foods, dan orang lain yang duduk sebelah saya di kereta. Saya cerita sudah pernah ke mana, dan kenapa, dan saya menawarkan agar mereka membawa tiga harapan ke Brazil, menjelaskan kepada siapa pun yang akan bertemu John of God bisa diwakilkan, jadi tidak semua harus ke sana. Kemudian kotak pesan saya penuh. Saling bercerita dari mulut ke mulut, satu orang menceritakan kepada temannya, orang lain di kafenya, hingga menjelang keberangkatan ke Brazil, tidak ada yang tidak punya email saya. Dan saat itu, saya menyadari bahwa saya menawarkan terlalu banyak, sangat terlalu banyak. Tapi ketika membaca lagi pesan-pesan itu beberapa tahun kemudian, saya mendapati sesuatu yang berbeda. Semua email itu sebenarnya punya tiga kesamaan, yang pertama lumayan menarik.
Almost everyone sent me meticulous details about how they could be reached. I had told them, or their friends had told them, that along with the list of the three things they wanted fixed, I needed their photo, their name and their date of birth. But they gave me full addresses, with, like, apartment numbers and zip codes, as if John of God was going to stop by their house and see them in person or send along a package. It was as if, in the highly unlikely event that their wishes were granted by John of God, they just wanted to make sure that they weren't delivered to the wrong person or the wrong address. Even if they didn't believe, they were hedging their bets.
Hampir semua mengirim pesan tentang cara menghubungi mereka. Saya, atau temannya telah memberi tahu mereka, bahwa bersama dengan tiga hal yang ingin diselesaikan, saya perlu foto, nama, dan tanggal lahir mereka. Tapi mereka memberi alamat lengkap, beserta nomor apartemen, dan kode pos, seakan John of God akan mengunjungi rumah mereka, dan menemui mereka, atau mengirimkan paket. Seakan, sangat tak memungkinkan bahwa keinginan mereka bisa dikabulkan oleh John of God, mereka ingin memastikan keinginan mereka tidak dikirim ke orang, atau alamat yang salah. Walaupun mereka tidak percaya, mereka memasrahkan segalanya.
The second commonality was just as curious, but far more humbling. Virtually everyone -- the stranger on the subway, the guy at the coffee shop, the lawyer down the hall, the Jew, the atheist, the Muslim, the devout Catholic -- all asked for essentially the same three things. OK, there were a couple of outliers, and yes, a few people asked for cash. But when I eliminated what were ultimately a handful of anomalies, the similarities were staggering. Almost every single person first asked for good health for themselves and their families. Almost universally, they next asked for happiness and then love, in that order: health, happiness, love. Sometimes they asked for a specific health issue to be fixed, but more often than not, they just asked for good health in general.
Kesamaan kedua yang sama menariknya, tapi lebih rendah hati. Hampir semuanya -- orang-orang di kereta, pria di kafe, pengacara di lantai bawah, orang Yahudi, Atheis, Muslim, dan Katolik yang taat -- semuanya pada dasarnya meminta tiga hal yang sama. Memang, ada yang tidak, dan ada beberapa yang meminta uang. Tapi ketika saya bagi menjadi beberapa anomali, kesamaannya sangat mengejutkan. Hampir semua orang, meminta kesehatan untuk keluarga, juga untuk diri mereka sendiri. Hampir secara umum, berikutnya minta kebahagiaan, kemudian cinta, urutannya seperti ini: kesehatan, kebahagiaan, cinta. Terkadang mereka minta beberapa masalah kesehatan tertentu untuk disembuhkan, tapi sebagian besar meminta kesehatan secara umum.
When it came to happiness, they each phrased it slightly differently, but they all asked for the same specific subtype of happiness, too -- the kind of happiness that sinks in and sets down roots in your soul; the kind of happiness that could sustain us, even if we were to lose absolutely everything else.
Saat bicara kebahagiaan, tiap orang mengungkapkannya secara berbeda, tapi mereka semua juga minta jenis kebahagiaan yang sama -- jenis kebahagiaan yang dalam, dan mengakar di jiwa; jenis kebahagiaan yang bisa menopang kita, walaupun seandainya kita kehilangan semuanya.
And for love, they all asked for the kind of romantic love, the soul mate that we read about in epic romantic novels, the kind of love that will stay with us till the end of our days.
Untuk masalah cinta, mereka semua minta cinta yang romantis, pasangan hidup yang kita baca di novel romantis, jenis cinta yang akan bertahan hingga hari-hari terakhir kita.
Sorry, that's my husband.
Maaf, itu suami saya.
Crap! Now I forgot my place.
Aduh! Saya jadi lupa.
(Laughter)
(Penonton tertawa)
(Applause)
(Tepuk tangan)
So by and large, all of these friends and strangers, regardless of their background, race or religion, all asked for the same things, and they were the same things that I really wanted, the simplified version of the basic human needs identified by social scientists like Abraham Maslow and Manfred Max-Neef. No one asked for answers to the big existential questions or for proof of God or the meaning of life like I had set out to find. They didn't even ask for an end to war or global hunger. Even when they could have asked for absolutely anything, they all asked for health, happiness and love.
Secara keseluruhan, semua teman, dan orang-orang ini, tanpa menghiraukan latar belakang, ras, atau agama mereka, semua minta hal yang sama, dan itu semua sama seperti yang saya inginkan, penyederhanaan dari kebutuhan pokok manusia yang dijelaskan oleh pakar sosial seperti Abraham Maslow, dan Manfred Max-Neef. Tak ada yang minta jawaban dari pertanyaan eksistensi yang besar, atau bukti Tuhan, atau arti hidup seperti yang ingin saya cari. Mereka bahkan tak minta agar perang, atau kelaparan berhenti. Walaupun saat mereka diberikan kesempatan untuk meminta apa pun, mereka semua minta kesehatan, kebahagiaan, dan cinta.
So now those emails had a third commonality as well. Each of them ended in the exact same way. Instead of thanking me for carting their wishes all the way to Brazil, everyone said, "Please don't tell anyone." So I decided to tell everyone --
Semua email itu punya kesamaan ketiga. Semua diakhiri dengan cara yang sama. Bukannya berterima kasih kepada saya, karena membawakan harapan ke Brazil, mereka semua bilang, "Jangan beri tahu siapa pun" Jadi, saya ceritakan ke semua orang --
(Laughter)
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right here on this stage, not because I'm untrustworthy, but because the fact that we have so much in common feels especially important for us all to hear, especially now, when so many of the world's problems seem to be because we keep focusing on the things that make us different, not on what binds us together.
di panggung ini, bukan karena saya tak bisa dipercaya, tapi karena kenyataan bahwa kita punya banyak kesamaan, rasanya sangat penting untuk diketahui semua orang, apalagi sekarang, ketika masalah di dunia ini begitu banyak, mungkin karena kita terus fokus pada hal yang membuat kita semua berbeda, bukan pada hal yang menyatukan kita.
And look -- I am the first to admit that I am not a statistician, and that the data I presented to you that I just accumulated in my in-box is more anecdotal than scientific, more qualitative than quantitative. It is, as anyone who works with data would tell you, hardly a statistically significant or demographically balanced sample. But nonetheless, I find myself thinking about those emails every time I reflect back on the bias and prejudice that I've faced in my life, or when there's another hate crime or a senseless tragedy that underscores the disheartening sense that our differences might be insurmountable. I then remind myself that I have evidence that the humbling, unifying commonality of our humanity is that, even when presented with the opportunity to ask for anything at all, most of us want the same things, and that this is true no matter who we are, what name we call our god, or which religion, if any, we call home.
Saya yang pertama mengakui bahwa saya bukan seorang ahli statistik, dan data yang saya tunjukkan semua berasal dari kotak pesan, lebih bersifat anekdot bukan spesifik, lebih kualitatif bukan kuantitatif. Benar seperti yang akan dikatakan para pengolah data, hampir tidak signifikan secara statistik, atau sampel demografinya seimbang. Tapi tetap saja, saya memikirkan semua email itu, setiap kali saya melihat bias, dan prasangka yang terjadi dalam hidup saya, atau kapan pun terjadi kejahatan kebencian, atau tragedi tanpa sebab, yang menyebabkan rasa kecewa, menekankan bahwa perbedaan kita mungkin tak terkira. Kemudian saya sadar punya bukti, bahwa kesamaan yang merendahkan hati, dan menyatukan kemanusiaan kita adalah, walaupun diberikan kesempatan untuk meminta apa pun, kebanyakan kita ingin hal yang sama, dan siapa pun diri kita, siapa pun Tuhan kita, atau agama apa pun yang nyaman bagi kita pribadi.
I then also note that apparently some of us want these things so badly that we would email a None, a spiritually confused None like me -- some might say otherwise confused as well -- and that we would seek out this stranger and email her our deepest wishes, just in case there is the remote possibility that they might be granted by someone who is not a god, much less our god, someone who is not even a member of our chosen religion, someone who, when you look at him on paper, seems like an unlikely candidate to deliver.
Kemudian saya amati, bahwa rupanya beberapa dari kita sangat menginginkan hal ini, sampai-sampai kita mau mengirim email kepada Non, orang yang bingung akan agamanya seperti saya -- yang lain juga merasa bahwa saya bingung -- namun kita mau mencari orang ini, dan mengirimkan keinginan terdalam kita, kalau-kalau ada kemungkinan, hal ini akan dikabulkan seseorang yang bukan Tuhan, apa lagi Tuhan kita, seseorang yang bukan anggota dari agama kita, seseorang yang tampaknya, bukan orang yang bisa mengabulkan.
And so now, when I reflect back on my spiritual quest, even though I did not find God, I found a home in this: even today, in a world fractured by religious, ethnic, political, philosophical, and racial divides, even with all of our obvious differences, at the end of the day, and the most fundamental level, we are all the same.
Jadi, jika berkilas balik pada perjalanan spiritual saya, walaupun saya tidak menemukan Tuhan, saya menemukan kenyamanan di sini: walaupun sekarang, di dunia yang terpecah oleh agama, etnik, politik, filosofi, dan ras, walaupun dengan perbedaan kita yang nyata, pada akhirnya, pada tingkat yang paling mendasar, kita semua itu sama.
Thank you.
Terima kasih.
(Applause)
(Tepuk tangan)