Transcriber: Hasmik Sahakyan Reviewer: Rhonda Jacobs
When I was 22,
I experienced something that completely changed the course of my life.
I was in a forest in Ireland, walking amongst the trees,
and I saw this giant branch and decided I needed to hang on it
because that's what 22-year-old guys do.
So,
(Laughter)
I made a run forth, and I jumped up, and I grabbed onto this branch,
and I started swinging.
And I was swinging and swinging, and getting a little carried away
because I was kind of in a whimsical mood, when, all of the sudden ... crack.
The branch snapped, and I fell more than 10 feet
The force of the fall was so strong that I fractured my sternum,
broke my clavicle, and I was knocked unconscious.
When I finally came to, I felt like I was having a heart attack.
And I knew immediately something was really wrong.
For six years I lived with a fractured sternum
and didn't even know it.
I did everything I could to get better,
but I got to the point where I realized
I wasn't going to be able to fix it myself.
So, this past January I finally got the operation I needed.
I met the best doctors in LA, and I had chest reconstruction surgery.
I have the scar right here to prove it.
This injury was by far the most difficult challenge
I've ever faced.
Every morning I would wake up in pain and ask myself:
"Why did I swing on that branch?"
I spent years alone in my apartment
searching for something that I couldn't quite put my finger on -
a connection or an outlet.
And then I picked up a camera,
and it was like I already knew what I was looking for.
See, I may live in LA now,
but I was lucky enough to grow up in New York City as a kid,
on the Upper West Side, no less.
And,
I went to the Met every chance I could.
I was obsessed with landscape paintings.
I would stare at them for hours and fantasize about what it would be like
to wander around in those ancient meadows and valleys, and seashores.
And my fascination with art continued to expand.
And as I got older, I pretty much went to every museum I could find.
I wasn't actually going out of my way to spend time in nature though.
I was definitely not the camping type of guy,
much more of a city boy.
But that fall from the tree and my battle with chronic pain,
that forced me to look at life with new meaning,
it forced me to try and discover what it meant to be alive,
and it's taking me to a place that I want to share with you today.
We all need to realize the power of nature,
but we all don't have to fall out of a tree to do so.
(Laughter)
You have choices.
One: if you see a branch, take it from me, don't swing on it.
Two: nature is your way to unedit your life.
Let me explain.
I spend the majority of my time on the beaches of Malibu
and the cliffs of Palos Verdes.
But it was a trip to the Mojave desert that changed my life.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
I drove all night in the dark to get there just before the sun began to rise.
Brisk air, NPR on the radio, my thoughts drifting in and out.
When I arrived, the clouds were perfect - shapes and sizes of all kinds.
I walked for two hours from my car all the way to the top of the dunes,
and I knew there was going to be, like, another 13 or 14 hours
until the sun went down,
and the most colorful shots are at sunrise and sunset.
But, if you're like me, you're impatient.
How could I walk two hours, take photos of the sunrise
and then wait at least another 13 or 14 hours in the sun
until the sunset?
That literally felt like a lifetime.
And I mean, I'm a millennial.
If I google something on the internet
and if it takes longer than half and a second to load,
I'm literally like: "What is going on?"
(Laughter)
So yeah.
Being in the middle of the desert waiting for the sun to go down
feels like the longest day of your life, trust me.
And, like a 20-something-year-old guy,
I came prepared.
I had a few swigs of water left, a half-eaten protein bar,
and my cell phone was pretty much dead.
But, the moment that phone died was actually the breakthrough I needed.
Because suddenly, what seemed so long and boring
became another world I had just stepped into,
the world of nature, of peace,
of patience,
of simplicity,
of truth.
It didn't matter to me if the sun took forever to go down
or it would take a week because I was there experiencing nature,
and I was fully present in the moment.
And it was up there that I thought about falling in the tree
and the years of pain and frustration that followed.
Could I have been more patient during that time?
Could I have spent that time with my head back, looking up at the sky,
rather than down at my phone?
Do you do that?
Do you look up at the sky, just to see what the clouds look like?
Do you look down at the flowers?
Do you pay attention to what's around you?
You don't have to have something significant or dramatic
happen to you
in order for you to be grateful,
in order for you to just sit in silence and enjoy these simple luxuries.
So put the phone down, walk to the park, sit by the water,
make your life less filtered.
See, all my photos,
they're unedited, unfiltered,
because I realize the value that nature provides for us.
Why edit the sky?
To make it look more colorful?
Some days, mother nature doesn't want to look more colorful,
and that's why it's so special when the sky does erupt
in every color imaginable.
And that is exactly why I don't edit her.
But I'm asking that you unfilter your lives
by putting down your phones and swinging from the branches of nature's path.
Like I said: "Don't actually do that."
(Laughter)
I mean it metaphorically.
I'll admit, it might feel slow at first, your connection to nature,
but the more time you spend trying to be present,
the more your life and the way you feel about it will shift,
the more you will be able to reflect on and process your experiences
with insight and clarity.
I don't edit my photos, so I'm asking you to see what's possible
when you don't edit your life.
Adopt the pace of nature and let her be your guide.
Thank you.
(Applause)