Earlier this year, I was invited to deliver a TEDx talk in the Algarve/Portugal. TEDx Praca Gil Eanes in Lagos. As you read these words, I have likely just gotten off-stage, delivered my thoughts.
The theme of this all-day event is “Co-Creating a Limitless Future.” Given the state of affairs in our world, I thought to myself, “huh, do you really want to do this? What the heck do you want to say?”
Once I knew, I knew.
The beauty of doing my second TEDx talk is that I feel none of the self-imposed pressures that can come with the first. I have had great fun writing my talk. It is a very personal talk, and it was well received in the dress rehearsal last week.
It is an honor to share the stage with some truly inspiring Portuguese luminaries. For those of you who have inquired – I am delivering in English, with simultaneous translation for those audience members who desire it.
The video of my talk will be released within 6 – 8 weeks, after editing and official TEDx approval. In the meantime, here is a mini-preview. Enjoy!
“The menu is not the meal,” said Alan Watts, the celebrated counter-culture guru of the 1950s and 60s.
We love to study the menu. We may agonize over what to pick from the menu. We may complain about what’s missing on the menu. We compare the menu we see in front of us to a menu we saw in another restaurant.
When the meal arrives, we may complain that the meal doesn’t quite match the description on the menu.
This is insanity.
The menu is not the meal. Yet we spend our entire lives dissecting the menu.
And we steadfastly limit our enjoyment of the meal.
I owned a dream house, for a while.
This house was very much a Florida dream. It had a lush tropical garden with a deck and a pool. There was a separate guest house in back, with an office. I called this place my little compound. Wrapped in a wall of giant palm trees, this was a sanctuary. I was happy here.
When I sold this compound, my friends were stunned. How could I let it go?
Here is the deal. I had made this dream happen. And it was time for another dream. This compound was the dream of a younger version of myself.
We get attached to old dreams. Instant limit. We get attached to our certainty. Instant limit. We get attached to the purity of our intentions. Instant limit.
When I sold this home, I was violating an unspoken taboo. It goes like this: We don’t sell our dream. Ever. We stay in old-dream jail. We, ideally, die in our dream.
The limits we put on ourselves are endless.
We have a list of traits we look for in a romantic partner, for example. We pride ourselves on the specificity of our list. We have been told that the more specific the list, the more likely it is that this is who we will manifest.
We have also, in one fell swoop, eliminated all sorts of spectacular humans that don’t fit our partner menu.
We profess certainty about our perfect next job. The ideal city or country to live in. The perfect school for our children.
We think of our certainty as our superpower. We don’t see how ferociously limiting this certainty can be.
I am renovating an apartment in Setubal right now. So are a bunch of other folks I know.
“This will be our forever home,” I hear said more than once. I appreciate the sentiment behind this statement, but I also think to myself: This is insanity.
We have already decided where we would like to live for the remainder of our lives?
This is what I hear tucked inside that statement: This home is where I hope to eventually die. I do not imagine ever leaving these four walls. I do not imagine going to a care facility. I imagine my family or other hired help taking care of me, here. I have everything mapped out.
Because I cannot imagine another way.
Profound. When the only thing that is forever, in my world view, is the soul, never the building.
