Steven Sharp Nelson How to find peace with loss through music TED

Transcriber:

(Plays Bach’s “Cello Suite No. 1
in G Major, Prelude”)

(Plays The Piano Guys' “Cello Song”)

(Cheers and applause)

(Applause ends)

Thank you. Thank you so much.

As Victor Borge used to say,

“I’d like to thank my parents
for making this performance possible,

and my children for making it necessary.”

(Laughter)

So many people in our lives
make our life purpose possible –

and necessary.

I’d like to take you on a musical journey

that connects you with
one of those people,

someone you love dearly,

someone you wanted to have
a little more time to love,

someone you wish was still with you.

This is my mom.

Isn’t she beautiful?

And then there’s this guy. (Clears throat)

Yeah. I’m afraid that’s me.

Now, don’t let that childlike grin
and superstylish Beatles haircut fool you:

I was trouble.

But as you could see,
I was happy when I was with my mom.

She’s one of the greatest
lyrical sopranos that’s ever lived,

ineffably gifted
with the voice of an angel.

She could have had center stage
anywhere – anywhere in the world –

but she gave that up

to be my mom.

She gave me this stage with you today.

She’s been by my side
when I’ve been particularly nervous

for a big performance,

touring the world with The Piano Guys,

or when I’ve been off the stage

and struggling and at the mercy
of anxiety and depression.

Or when I felt like I’m under the thumb

of this perniciously pervasive demon
known as inadequacy

that so many of us are fighting.

She’s gently nudged me forward

right at the moment
when I’ve felt like giving up.

So I’m a musician today, not only
because of what she gave up for me,

but also because of what
she continues to give me.

And that support is profound
and especially powerful.

Why?

Because it comes from a place
about which we know very little.

Not long after that first picture
I showed you was taken,

my mother fell to the floor of our home
suddenly, in this really scary seizure.

Such an intense moment.

My dad rushed her to the ER:

brain tumor.

A big one.

The doctors didn’t know how long
we’d have with her –

one, two, maybe three years
before we’d lose her.

But due to her strength and a series
of indescribable miracles,

she defied that prognosis
and fought that brain tumor

for 18 years.

(Applause)

Thank you.

I’ll let her know. Thank you.

She fought that brain tumor
for 18 years, but think about it:

some of those years were really rough,
as you can imagine.

But we learned to be grateful
for every day.

Now, when her final curtain call came,
I couldn’t applaud,

because I wasn’t ready for it to end.

So after she passed away, I spent
some time being angry, bitter, resentful,

confused at these years
that were stolen from me,

at the chance I never had to know
the soprano in this beautiful woman;

to hear her sing
in full voice without pain;

to perform with her –
oh, I would have loved that,

just me playing the cello
right next to her,

just looking up
at her beautiful face singing.

Oh, I would have loved that chance.

I never got that chance.

So I struggled with this, I really did.

But then, I discovered something,

something that has compelled me
to be on this stage,

talking with you today.

Isn’t it true that our life’s most
sublime melodies tend to be written

during the dark symphonies
of our struggle?

And in this dark symphony,
I found the healing for Mother –?

The very thing that had wounded me
was the same thing that healed me:

the power of music.

You see, since then, I’ve spent
some very special time with my mom.

Through music, I’ve discovered

that the people we’ve lost
aren’t lost at all,

and the holes their absence
leaves inside us

are not meant to be filled
by someone or something else.

Instead, they are intentional,
mindful places,

meant for us to go to take refuge,

to reconnect and to reunite
with our loved ones,

to find them there,
still interested, still invested

and somehow, still involved
in the details of our lives.

That is where I found my mom.

Now, I can’t prove this
to you with science;

there’s no chance.

And spirituality helped me
take the first step,

but ultimately, you just have to go there
yourself in your own way.

And music, the power of music,
can act as a guide for you

on this incredible, important journey.

If you’re willing,
I’d like to go there together right now.

And I want to show this to you
because if you need to use this later on,

when you’re on your own in a quiet place,

and you’ve got a song
that’s personal to you,

I want to show you how this can work.

I’d like you to close your eyes
if you would, please.

Choose a loved one
you want to connect with.

It could be someone you’ve already been
thinking about as I’ve been talking.

I want you to picture a favorite place,

a relaxing place.

It could be a place
that you both adored together.

Now picture your loved one sitting
or standing across from you.

Make this as detailed
as you can; it’s important.

What are they wearing?

What is their posture, their expression?

Is it a smile?

Is it a look of concern?

Or is hope written in their eyes?

I want you to hold
this image in your mind,

and you could do so continually
with your eyes closed,

or you can open them; it’s up to you.

But I want you to live in this place

while I play for you
one more piece of music.

It’s a piece I’ve never
performed in public.

Why? Because I feared
that I wouldn’t do it justice.

It’s my mom’s favorite.

And as I play, I want you
to have a conversation

with this beautiful person
across from you.

I want you to hold their hand,
share a long hug,

ask for forgiveness

or finally give of it freely
if you need to.

Ask for help with something
you’re struggling with.

At the very least, express gratitude
for how they’ve made you possible

and necessary.

Express love.

My mother is a soprano,

with the voice of an angel.

And that voice for me is still sweet

and rings with a resounding relevance.

And as I play, I hope you can hear
the voice of your own angel

and let music find someone you’ve lost.

(Plays Puccini’s “Nessun dorma”)

(Cheers and applause)