Fa uns anys, era a l'aeroport JFK a punt d'agafar un avió, quan es van apropar a mi dues dones que no penso que es sentin insultades si les descric com unes petites velles xerraires italo-americanes força amples.
So, a few years ago I was at JFK Airport about to get on a flight, when I was approached by two women who I do not think would be insulted to hear themselves described as tiny old tough-talking Italian-American broads.
La més alta, que arribava més o menys fins aquí, ve cap a mi i em diu: «Maca, et vull fer una pregunta. Tens res a veure amb tot allò de "Menja, resa, estima" que està per tot arreu últimament?»
The taller one, who is like up here, she comes marching up to me, and she goes, "Honey, I gotta ask you something. You got something to do with that whole 'Eat, Pray, Love' thing that's been going on lately?"
I jo vaig dir-li, «Sí».
And I said, "Yes, I did."
I ella li dona un cop a la seva amiga i li diu, «Veus? T'ho havia dit. És aquella noia. La noia que va escriure aquell llibre basat en aquella pel·lícula.» (Rialles)
And she smacks her friend and she goes, "See, I told you, I said, that's that girl. That's that girl who wrote that book based on that movie." (Laughter)
Així que aquesta sóc jo. I cregueu-me, estic molt agraïda de ser aquesta persona, perquè tot allò de «Menja, resa, estima» va ser un gran pas cap endavant per a mi. Però alhora em va deixar en la difícil situació d'avançar com autora tractant de saber com m'ho faria per escriure un altre llibre que agradés a tothom, perquè jo ja sabia que totes aquelles persones a qui els havia agradat «Menja, resa, estima» es sentirien completament decebudes amb qualsevol cosa que escrigués perquè no seria «Menja, resa, estima», i totes aquelles persones que odiaven «Menja, resa, estima» es sentirien completament decebudes amb qualsevol cosa que escrigués perquè seria la prova de que continuo amb vida. Així, que sabia que no tenia manera de guanyar, i saber que no tenia manera de guanyar, em va fer plantejar-me seriosament deixar la partida i anar-me a viure al camp a criar corgis. Però si hagués fet això hauria deixat d'escriure. Hauria perdut la meva estimada vocació, així que sabia que el que havia de fer era trobar alguna manera d'estimular la inspiració per escriure un nou llibre sense que importés la inevitable mala acollida que tindria. Havia de trobar alguna manera d'assegurar-me de que la meva creativitat sobrevivia al seu propi èxit. I de fet, al final, vaig trobar la inspiració però la vaig trobar en el lloc més inesperat i improbable. La vaig trobar en lliçons que havia ja havia après abans de com la creativitat sobreviu al seu propi fracàs.
So that's who I am. And believe me, I'm extremely grateful to be that person, because that whole "Eat, Pray, Love" thing was a huge break for me. But it also left me in a really tricky position moving forward as an author trying to figure out how in the world I was ever going to write a book again that would ever please anybody, because I knew well in advance that all of those people who had adored "Eat, Pray, Love" were going to be incredibly disappointed in whatever I wrote next because it wasn't going to be "Eat, Pray, Love," and all of those people who had hated "Eat, Pray, Love" were going to be incredibly disappointed in whatever I wrote next because it would provide evidence that I still lived. So I knew that I had no way to win, and knowing that I had no way to win made me seriously consider for a while just quitting the game and moving to the country to raise corgis. But if I had done that, if I had given up writing, I would have lost my beloved vocation, so I knew that the task was that I had to find some way to gin up the inspiration to write the next book regardless of its inevitable negative outcome. In other words, I had to find a way to make sure that my creativity survived its own success. And I did, in the end, find that inspiration, but I found it in the most unlikely and unexpected place. I found it in lessons that I had learned earlier in life about how creativity can survive its own failure.
En poques paraules, l'única cosa que sempre havia desitjat era ser escriptora. Vaig escriure durant tota la infantesa, durant tota l'adolescència. Quan era una adolescent enviava les meves obres dolentíssimes al The New Yorker, esperant ser descoberta. En acabar la universitat vaig trobar un treball de cambrera, i vaig continuar treballant i escrivint, esforçant-me molt per poder publicar, i fracassant sempre. No vaig aconseguir que em publiquessin durant gairebé sis anys. Així, que durant gairebé sis anys, cada dia l'única cosa que rebia a la bústia eren cartes de rebuig. I cada vegada era devastadora, i cadascuna de les vegades em preguntava a mi mateixa si no seria millor deixar-ho córrer rendir-me, i lliurar-me d'aquella càrrega. Però aleshores prenia la determinació, i sempre de la mateixa manera, em deia: «No hi penso renunciar. me'n vaig a casa.»
So just to back up and explain, the only thing I have ever wanted to be for my whole life was a writer. I wrote all through childhood, all through adolescence, by the time I was a teenager I was sending my very bad stories to The New Yorker, hoping to be discovered. After college, I got a job as a diner waitress, kept working, kept writing, kept trying really hard to get published, and failing at it. I failed at getting published for almost six years. So for almost six years, every single day, I had nothing but rejection letters waiting for me in my mailbox. And it was devastating every single time, and every single time, I had to ask myself if I should just quit while I was behind and give up and spare myself this pain. But then I would find my resolve, and always in the same way, by saying, "I'm not going to quit, I'm going home."
I aquí heu d'entendre que per a mi, anar-me'n a casa no volia dir tornar a la granja dels meus pares. Per a mi, tornar a casa volia dir tornar al treball d'escriure perquè escriure era la meva llar, perquè m'agradava més escriure del que odiava fracassar escrivint, el que és el mateix que dir que m'agradava més escriure que el meu propi ego, que vol dir que m'estimava més escriure del que m'estimava a mi mateixa. I així és com vaig tirar cap endavant.
And you have to understand that for me, going home did not mean returning to my family's farm. For me, going home meant returning to the work of writing because writing was my home, because I loved writing more than I hated failing at writing, which is to say that I loved writing more than I loved my own ego, which is ultimately to say that I loved writing more than I loved myself. And that's how I pushed through it.
Però el que és estrany és que 20 anys després, durant el punt àlgid de «Menja, resa, estima» no parava d'identificar-me amb aquella jove cambrera que vaig ser, pensant en ella constantment, i sentint-me ella una altra vegada, el qual era absurd, perquè les nostres vides no havien pogut ésser més diferents. Ella havia fracassat constantment. Jo havia triomfat més enllà de les meves expectatives. No teníem res en comú. Per què de cop i volta em sentia como si fos ella?
But the weird thing is that 20 years later, during the crazy ride of "Eat, Pray, Love," I found myself identifying all over again with that unpublished young diner waitress who I used to be, thinking about her constantly, and feeling like I was her again, which made no rational sense whatsoever because our lives could not have been more different. She had failed constantly. I had succeeded beyond my wildest expectation. We had nothing in common. Why did I suddenly feel like I was her all over again?
I no va ser fins quan tractava de desembullar tot allò quan finalment vaig compendre l'estranya i difícil connexió psicològica que hi ha en les nostres vides entre com patim un gran fracàs i com experimentem un gran èxit. Així que penseu-ho un moment: Durant la major part de la vostra vida, vivim al mig de la cadena de l'experiència humana on tot és normal, reconfortant i habitual, però el fracàs et catapulta abruptament cap allà, a la foscor cegadora de la decepció. L'èxit et catapulta igual de lluny i d'abruptament però ben lluny cap allà cap a la igualment enlluernadora brillantor de la fama i el reconeixement i l'elogi. I un d'aquests destins es vist objectivament pel món com dolent, i l'altre es vist objectivament pel món com bo, però el nostre subconscient és completament incapaç de discernir entre el que està bé i el que està malament. L'únic que és capaç de sentir és el valor absolut d'aquesta equació emocional, la distància exacta a la que hem estat llançats de nosaltres mateixos. I hi ha un risc igual de perillós en ambdós casos de perdre's allà afora en les profunditats de la nostra ment.
And it was only when I was trying to unthread that that I finally began to comprehend the strange and unlikely psychological connection in our lives between the way we experience great failure and the way we experience great success. So think of it like this: For most of your life, you live out your existence here in the middle of the chain of human experience where everything is normal and reassuring and regular, but failure catapults you abruptly way out over here into the blinding darkness of disappointment. Success catapults you just as abruptly but just as far way out over here into the equally blinding glare of fame and recognition and praise. And one of these fates is objectively seen by the world as bad, and the other one is objectively seen by the world as good, but your subconscious is completely incapable of discerning the difference between bad and good. The only thing that it is capable of feeling is the absolute value of this emotional equation, the exact distance that you have been flung from yourself. And there's a real equal danger in both cases of getting lost out there in the hinterlands of the psyche.
Però per ambdós casos, resulta que hi ha el mateix remei per a l'auto-restauració, que és que necessitem trobar el camí de tornada a casa tan ràpid i fluidament com puguem, i si us pregunteu quina és la vostra llar, aquí teniu una pista: La vostra llar és allò del món que us estimeu més que a vosaltres mateixos. Així que pot ser la creativitat, pot ser la família, pot ser l'enginy, l'aventura, la fe, el servei, pot ser criar corgis. No ho sé, la vostra llar és allò al què podeu dedicar les vostres energies amb una devoció tan gran que els resultats finals es tornen intranscendents.
But in both cases, it turns out that there is also the same remedy for self-restoration, and that is that you have got to find your way back home again as swiftly and smoothly as you can, and if you're wondering what your home is, here's a hint: Your home is whatever in this world you love more than you love yourself. So that might be creativity, it might be family, it might be invention, adventure, faith, service, it might be raising corgis, I don't know, your home is that thing to which you can dedicate your energies with such singular devotion that the ultimate results become inconsequential.
Per a mi, aquella llar ha estat sempre escriure. Així que després d'aquell estrany i desorientador èxit que vaig tenir amb «Menja, resa, estima», em vaig adonar de que l'únic que havia de fer era el mateix que havia estat fent tot aquell temps quan jo era un fracàs igualment desorientat. Havia de tornar a treballar, i això és el que vaig fer, i així és com a l'any 2010 vaig poder publicar la temuda seqüela de «Menja, resa, estima». I sabeu què va passar amb aquell llibre? Que va ser un fracàs, pero no passava res. De fet, em vaig sentir com a prova de bales, perquè sabia que havia trencat l'encanteri i havia trobat el camí de tornada a casa on escriuria per la pura devoció d'escriure. I després vaig continuar a la meva llar d'escriure i vaig escriure un llibre que tot just va ser publicat l'any passat i que va ser molt ben rebut, el qual està molt bé, però no és el que vull dir. El que vull dir és que estic escrivint un nou llibre i escriuré un altre llibre després d'aquest i un altre i un altre i un altre i molts d'ells fracassaran, i algun d'ells potser tindran èxit, però jo sempre estaré fora de perill dels huracans que vindran sempre i quan recordi el lloc on visc plenament.
For me, that home has always been writing. So after the weird, disorienting success that I went through with "Eat, Pray, Love," I realized that all I had to do was exactly the same thing that I used to have to do all the time when I was an equally disoriented failure. I had to get my ass back to work, and that's what I did, and that's how, in 2010, I was able to publish the dreaded follow-up to "Eat, Pray, Love." And you know what happened with that book? It bombed, and I was fine. Actually, I kind of felt bulletproof, because I knew that I had broken the spell and I had found my way back home to writing for the sheer devotion of it. And I stayed in my home of writing after that, and I wrote another book that just came out last year and that one was really beautifully received, which is very nice, but not my point. My point is that I'm writing another one now, and I'll write another book after that and another and another and another and many of them will fail, and some of them might succeed, but I will always be safe from the random hurricanes of outcome as long as I never forget where I rightfully live.
Mireu, jo no sé on viviu plenament, però sí que sé que hi ha alguna cosa que estimeu més que a vosaltres mateixos. Alguna cosa respectable, per cert, així que les addicions i les obsessions no compten, perquè tots sabem que aquestes no son bones llars per viure-hi, veritat? El truc està en identificar la millor, la més valuosa de les coses que us estimeu i després construir la vostra casa a sobre i no moure-us d'allà. I si algun dia, per qualsevol motiu us veieu obligats a sortir de la vostra llar tant si és per un gran fracàs com per un gran èxit, el vostre treball és lluitar per trobar el camí de tornada a casa de l'única manera en que es pot fer, aplicant-nos i complint amb diligència i devoció i respecte i reverència sigui quina sigui la tasca que estimem estarà allà cridant-nos. Simplement feu això, i continueu fent això una vegada i una altra, i us puc prometre des de la meva llarga experiència personal de totes, totes, us puc asegurar de que tot anirà bé. Gràcies. (Aplaudiments)
Look, I don't know where you rightfully live, but I know that there's something in this world that you love more than you love yourself. Something worthy, by the way, so addiction and infatuation don't count, because we all know that those are not safe places to live. Right? The only trick is that you've got to identify the best, worthiest thing that you love most, and then build your house right on top of it and don't budge from it. And if you should someday, somehow get vaulted out of your home by either great failure or great success, then your job is to fight your way back to that home the only way that it has ever been done, by putting your head down and performing with diligence and devotion and respect and reverence whatever the task is that love is calling forth from you next. You just do that, and keep doing that again and again and again, and I can absolutely promise you, from long personal experience in every direction, I can assure you that it's all going to be okay. Thank you. (Applause)