Transcriber: Van Nguyen Reviewer: David DeRuwe
So who am I?
[WHO AM I?]
It's one of the most important questions of our lives.
We all want to know who we are
because it’s a key part of living with ourselves,
accepting ourselves and loving ourselves.
And when we see parts of ourselves we don't much like,
it's a key part of improving ourselves.
Once we know who we are,
we can start to plot the course towards who we want to be.
So who are you?
It's a really tricky question, right, especially to answer alone.
We need more tools; we deserve better tools to work it out.
So I brought one.
I’ve got a tool to help us get there, and I can promise three things about it:
One, it takes less than five minutes.
Two, you might actually use it,
which is very important.
And three, you’ve brought it with you here today, I promise.
The tool starts with something visual.
When we often think about self-discovery, self-identity,
we think in terms of a journey.
So let’s go with that and imagine all of us now are taking a ride on a train.
Now, like every train, this one has multiple stops along the way -
those black dots, they’re multiple stations.
But this is a very special train because wherever you get off,
whenever you get off,
you’ll know exactly who you are.
You'll have a complete answer.
Now, as you begin to board this train,
you look around and you notice this train’s absolutely full, right?
Because this is a pretty sweet deal.
You’re all buzzing, talking to yourselves
about who you hope to be, what you hope to find.
And in fact, in the excitement of it all, in the buzz of it all,
you might have missed a secret about this train.
Can you spot it?
Right at the back of your carriage, sitting by himself, is a wise old man.
He’s a mystical type, unkempt white hair, face crumpled like yesterday’s newspaper.
His eyes are closed; he’s actually asleep before this journey even starts.
Nobody knows much about him,
but rumor has it,
he catches this train every week looking for the same things we are.
And rumor has it, he always finds it.
Okay, let's get going right.
Whistle blows, train roars into motion.
We’re chugging through the countryside,
and before long, we get to the first station.
This one’s called “Words.”
Words.
Here we find our identity by publicizing and proclaiming it.
Let’s say you think you’re a generous person.
Here you’d work that out by standing in front of an audience like this
and saying simply: “Everyone, this guy is so generous.”
And that’s it. That’s all we have to do.
Convince our friends or even random strangers who we are,
and that’s enough.
And we laugh, but who hasn’t been here, right?
After all, this is the social media station.
A few influencers try and coax you off here,
And you do think about it, you do.
Then you think back to that old man; what’s he doing?
Well,
he’s still dead to the world, right, but he does open one eye,
looks out at the station name and quickly settles back to sleep.
This isn’t his station.
Whistle blows, and before long, the train roars back into life.
Soon enough, we get to a second station.
This one’s called “Plans.”
Plans.
Here, we can try things like,
“I will be generous” or “I wish and hope for a generous world.”
This is the intentions station, the dreaming station.
We can also try things like: “I would be generous but ... ”
“if I had more money,” “if I had more time,”
“if my boss wasn’t such a jerk,”
“if things were better for me.”
A few more people get off here as well, and we do think about it, we do.
What’s that wise old man doing?
Well, he’s awake for this station, that’s a good start, right?
But he stays motionless in his chair.
This isn’t his station.
Whistle blows, train roars back into life.
Before long, we get to a third station.
This one is called “Feelings.”
Feelings.
Here, we can try things like: “Deep down, I am generous,”
“I can feel my generous self; I have a generous soul.”
“Other people’s views and opinions, they’re just distractions;
through deep contemplation, I can eventually access who I really am.”
This is a beautiful, romantic, sincere station.
Better yet, the wise old man,
he’s getting to his feet, he’s making his way down the aisle,
looking out the window, looking at the beauty of it all,
and then settles back into his chair.
This isn't his station either.
It's beautiful, but still not his station for some reason.
It may well be yours,
and just like stations one and two, there’s no judgment if you get off here.
But make your decision quickly because the whistle blows once more,
and suddenly the train is on its way once again
because there’s a fourth and final station coming up in the now darkness.
Nothing glamorous about this station, by the way.
Imagine like Central Station at 11:00 at night, right?
Nothing good’s happening at all.
(Laughter)
But suddenly as you finally step out onto the platform,
you’re confronted with an extraordinary thing.
In front of you on the platform is a big, black wall
with white text on the wall, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling.
At first, you think, hey, this is the train timetable,
but then you notice your name amongst the white text.
And not only your name,
but dates and times and places and people that seem strangely familiar.
“What is this?” you think to yourself.
“Your last seven days,” says the old man suddenly with you on the platform.
You didn’t notice that he crept up behind you while you weren’t looking.
It's your last seven days from breakfast on day one to bed on day seven.
This is your every meeting, phone call,
message, text, wink, frown, grimace, sneer -
everything is up here on the wall for you to see.
“This,” he explains, “is the truth of who you are.
If you don’t see it here,
it doesn’t exist.”
The idea is simple: you are what you do -
not what you say you do, not what you plan to do, not what you feel you do,
but what you do.
And each time we get off this train early,
we deny ourselves the real answer of who we are.
Whatever you’re looking for -
generosity, leadership, discipline, good parent, good daughter, whatever -
it has to show its face here in the real world.
The first part of this tool
was the train that takes us through three false leads.
The second part of that tool is the black wall,
your last seven days,
which nowadays takes less than five minutes to check,
and you’ve brought it with you here today.
Your outbox will tell you more about yourself than your Instagram.
Going to recent calls will tell you more about yourself
than going to a rain forest meditation retreat.
Don’t judge yourself or make excuses;
just accept the answer for what it really is.
Remember, at the first station, we said, “I am generous,” maybe even tweeted it.
At the second station, we said “I will be generous,”
maybe even made some vague plans to do it.
At the third station, we said,
“I feel generous,” and maybe even genuinely believed it.
But to stop at the fourth station
is to unlock our phones and show ourselves the proof.
We should relish seeing the proof, no matter how scary.
Your last seven days will show you missed calls you should have taken.
messages you should have sent and a few you shouldn’t have,
(Laughter)
and always and forever, the reminders we’re so excited to set ourselves,
and so quick to ignore.
But ...
we will also see a tiny bit of hope.
We’ll see a kind, supportive friend,
a community leader,
an advocate for a better, greener tomorrow.
What could be more beautiful than seeing a tiny bit of who we want to be
amongst who we already are?
And I promise you, the more you catch this train,
the more of this good, good stuff you will see.
And before long, seven good days become seven good weeks,
as the months, years and decades
become your habits, character and legacy.
Thank you.
(Applause)