The language of being human Poet Ali
Poet Ali: Hi.
Audience: Hi.
PA: I want to ask you guys a question.
How many languages do you speak?
This is not a rhetorical question.
I actually want you to think of a number.
For some of you, it’s pretty easy.
Inside your head, you’re like, “It’s one.
You’re speaking it, buddy. I’m done.”
Others of you maybe are wondering
if the language an ex-boyfriend
or ex-girlfriend taught you,
where you learned all the cusswords,
if it counts – go ahead and count it.
When I asked myself the question,
I came up with four,
arguably five, if I’ve been drinking.
(Laughter)
(In Italian: With a little bit of wine
I can speak Italian.)
(Applause)
Cheers!
But on closer examination,
I came up with 83 – 83 languages,
and I got tired and I stopped counting.
And it forced me to revisit
this definition that we have of language.
The first entry said,
“The method of human communication,
either spoken or written,
consisting of the use of words
in a structured or conventional way.”
The definition at the bottom refers
to specialized fields,
like medicine, science, tech.
We know they have their own vernacular,
their own jargon.
But what most interested me was
that definition right in the center there:
“the system of communication used
by a particular community or country.”
And I’m not interested
in altering this definition.
I’m interested in applying it
to everything we do,
because I believe that we speak
far more languages than we realize.
And for the rest of our time together,
I’m going to attempt
to speak in one language
that is native to every single
human being in this room.
But that changes things a little bit,
because then it’s no longer
a presentation.
It becomes a conversation,
and in any conversation,
there must be some sort of interaction.
And for any interaction to happen,
there has to be a degree
of willingness on both parties.
And I think if we just are willing,
we will see the magic that can happen
with just a little bit of willingness.
So I’ve chosen a relatively low-risk
common denominator
that can kind of gauge
if we’re all willing.
If you’re happy and you know it,
clap your hands.
(Claps)
Now you’re talking!
(In Spanish: For all the people
who speak Spanish,
please stand up.
And look at a person sitting to your side
and start laughing.)
(Laughter)
Thank you so much.
Please be seated.
Now, if that felt a little bit awkward,
I promise there was no joke
being had at your expense.
I simply asked the Spanish-speaking
audience to stand up,
look at a person that was sitting
close to them and laugh.
And I know that wasn’t nice,
and I’m sorry,
but in that moment,
some of us felt something.
You see, we’re often aware
of what language does
when we speak somebody’s language,
what it does to connect,
what it does to bind.
But we often forget what it does
when you can’t speak that language,
what it does to isolate,
what it does to exclude.
And I want us to hold on
as we journey through
our little walk of languages here.
(In Farsi: I’d like to translate
the idea of “taarof.")
I said in Farsi, “I’d like to translate
this idea of ‘taarof’
in the Persian culture,”
which, really – it has no equivalent
in the English lexicon.
The best definition would be
something like an extreme grace
or an extreme humility.
But that doesn’t quite get the job done.
So I’ll give you an example.
If two gentlemen
were walking by each other,
it’d be very common
for the first one to say,
(In Farsi: I am indebted to you),
which means, “I am indebted to you.”
The other gentlemen would respond back,
(In Farsi: I open my shirt for you)
which means, “I open my shirt for you.”
The first guy would respond back,
(In Farsi: I am your servant)
which means, “I am your servant.”
And then the second guy
would respond back to him,
(In Farsi: I am the dirt
beneath your feet)
which literally means,
“I am the dirt beneath your feet.”
(Laughter)
Here’s an exhibit for you guys,
in case you didn’t get the picture.
(Laughter)
And I share that with you, because
with new languages come new concepts
that didn’t exist before.
And the other thing is,
sometimes we think language is about
understanding the meaning of a word,
but I believe language is about
making a word meaningful for yourself.
If I were to flash this series
of words on the screen,
some of you, you’d know exactly
what it is right away.
Others of you, you might
struggle a little bit.
And I could probably draw
a pretty clear-cut line
right around the age
of 35 and older, 35 and younger.
And for those of us that are in the know,
we know that’s text-speak,
or SMS language.
It’s a series of characters meant
to convey the most amount of meaning
with the least amount of characters,
which sounds pretty similar
to our definition of languages:
“system of communication
used by a community.”
Now, anyone who’s ever got
into an argument via text
can make a case for how it’s maybe
not the best method of communication,
but what if I told you
that what you saw earlier
was a modern-day love letter?
If you follow along:
“For the time being, I love you lots,
because you positively bring out
all the best in me,
and I laugh out loud, in other words,
let’s me know what’s up.
‘Cause you are a cutie in my opinion,
and as far as I know to see you,
if you’re not seeing someone,
would make happy.
For your information,
I’ll be right there forever.
In any case, keep in touch,
no response necessary,
all my best wishes, don’t know,
don’t care if anyone sees this.
Don’t go there, see you later,
bye for now, hugs and kisses,
you only live once.”
(Applause)
Kind of a modern-day Romeo or Juliet.
In that moment, if you laughed,
you spoke another language
that needs no explanation: laughter.
It’s one of the most common
languages in the world.
We don’t have to explain it to each other,
it’s just something we all feel,
and that’s why things like laughter
and things like music are so prevalent,
because they seem to somehow
transcend explanation
and convey a profound amount of meaning.
Every language we learn is a portal
by which we can access another language.
The more you know, the more you can speak.
And it’s something common that we all do.
We take any new concept,
and we filter it through
an already existing access
of reality within us.
And that’s why languages are so important,
because they give us access to new worlds,
not just people.
It’s not just about seeing or hearing,
it’s about feeling, experiencing, sharing.
And despite these languages
that we’ve covered,
I really don’t think we’ve covered
one of the most profound
languages,
and that’s the language of experience.
That’s why when you’re
talking with someone,
if they’ve shared something you’ve shared,
you don’t need to explain it much.
Or that’s why, when you’re sharing
a story and you finish,
and the people you’re talking to
don’t quite get it,
the first thing we all say is,
“Guess you had to be there.”
I guess you had to be here this week
to know what this is about.
It’s kind of hard to explain, isn’t it?
And for the sake of our research,
I’m going to close by asking
that you participate one more time
in this language of experience.
I’m going to filter
through some languages,
and if I’m speaking your language,
I’m going to ask that you just stand
and you stay standing.
You don’t need to ask permission,
just let me know that you see me,
and I can also see you
if you speak this language of experience.
Do you speak this language?
When I was growing up in primary school,
at the end of the year,
we would have these parties,
and we’d vote on whether we wanted
to celebrate at an amusement park
or a water park.
And I would really hope the party
wasn’t at a water park,
because then I’d have
to be in a bathing suit.
I don’t know about you, but sometimes
when I approach a dressing room,
my sweat glands start
activating on their own,
because I know the garment is not
going to look on me
like it did on that mannequin.
Or how about this?
When I would go to family functions
or family gatherings,
every time I wanted a second plate –
and I usually did –
(Laughter)
it was a whole exercise
in cost-benefit analysis,
my relatives looking at me like,
“I don’t know. Do you really need that?
Looks like you’re doing OK there, bud.”
Did my cheeks have a big
“Pinch me” sign that I didn’t see?
And if you’re squirming
or you’re laughing or you stood up,
or you’re beginning to stand,
you’re speaking the language
that I endearingly call
“the language of growing up a fat kid.”
And any body-image issue
is a dialect of that language.
I want you to stay standing.
Again, if I’m speaking your language,
please go ahead and stand.
Imagine two bills in my hand.
One is the phone bill,
and one is the electric bill.
Eeny, meeny, miny, mo,
pay one off, let the other one go,
which means, “I might not have enough
to pay both at the current moment.”
You’ve got to be resourceful.
You’ve got to figure it out.
And if you’re standing, you know
the language of barely making ends meet,
of financial struggle.
And if you’ve been lucky enough
to speak that language,
you understand that there is
no motivator of greatness like deficiency.
Not having resources,
not having looks, not having finances
can often be the barren soil
from which the most productive seeds
are painstakingly plowed and harvested.
I’m going to ask
if you speak this language.
The second you recognize it,
feel free to stand.
When we heard the diagnosis,
I thought, “Not that word.
Anything but that word.
I hate that word.”
And then you ask a series of questions:
“Are you sure?”
“Has it spread?”
“How long?”
“Doctor, how long?”
And a series of answers
determines a person’s life.
And when my dad was hungry,
we’d all rush to the dinner table to eat,
because that’s what we did before.
We ate together, so we were
going to continue doing that.
And I didn’t understand
why we were losing this battle,
because I was taught if you fight
and if you have the right spirit,
you’re supposed to win.
And we weren’t winning.
For any of you that stood up,
you know very well that
I’m speaking the language
of watching a loved one battle cancer.
(Applause)
Any terminal illness
is a derivative of that language.
I’m going to speak one last language.
Oh – no, no, I’m listening.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, no no, no no,
me and you, right here, yup.
(Laughter)
No, I’m with ya. I’m with ya!
(Laughter)
Or, imagine the lights are all off and
a blue light is just shining in your face
as you’re laying on the bed.
And I know some of you, like me,
have dropped that phone
right on your face.
(Laughter)
Or this one, right?
Passenger seat freaking out,
like, “Can you watch the road?”
And for anybody that stood up,
you speak the language that I like to call
“the language of disconnection.”
It’s been called
the language of connection,
but I like to call it
the language of disconnection.
I don’t mean disconnection,
I mean disconnection,
human disconnection,
disconnected from each other,
from where we are, from our own thoughts,
so we can occupy another space.
If you’re not standing,
you probably know what it’s like
to feel left out.
(Laughter)
(Applause)
You probably – you know what it’s like
when everybody’s a part of something,
and you’re not.
You know what it’s like
being the minority.
And now that I’m speaking your language,
I’m going to ask you to stand,
since we’re speaking the same language.
Because I believe that language
of being the minority
is one of the most important languages
you can ever speak in your life,
because how you feel
in that position of compromise
will directly determine how you act
in that position of power.
Thank you for participating.
If you’d take a seat,
I want to speak one last language.
(Applause)
This one, you don’t need to stand.
I just want to see if you recognize it.
Most the girls in the world
are complainin’ about it.
Most the poems in the world
been written about it.
Most the music on the radio
be hittin' about it, kickin' about it,
or rippin' about it.
Most the verses in the game
people spittin' about it,
most the songs in the world,
people talkin' about it.
Most the broken hearts I know
are walkin' without it,
started to doubt it,
or lost without it.
Most the shadows in the dark
have forgotten about it.
Everybody in the world
would be trippin' without it.
Every boy and every girl
will be dead without it,
struggle without it, nothing without it.
Most the pages that are filled
are filled about it.
[“It” = Love]
The tears that are spilled
are spilled about it.
The people that have felt it
are real about it.
A life without it, you’d be lost.
When I’m in it and I feel it,
I be shoutin' about it.
Everybody in the whole world
knowin' about it.
I’m hurt and broke down
and be flowin' about it,
goin' about it wrong
‘cause I didn’t allow it.
Can the wound or scar heal without it?
Can’t the way that you feel
be concealed about it?
Everybody has their own ideal about it,
dream about it,
appeal about it.
So what’s the deal about it?
Are you ‘bout it to know
that life is a dream
and unreal without it?
But I’m just a writer.
What can I reveal about it?
Why is it that the most spoken-about
language in the world
is the one we have the toughest time
speaking or expressing?
No matter how many books,
how many seminars,
how many life-coaching sessions we go to,
we just can’t get enough of it.
And I ask you now:
Is that number that you had
at the beginning, has that changed?
And I challenge you, when you see someone,
to ask yourself:
What languages do we share?
And if you don’t come up with anything,
ask yourself: What languages
could we share?
And if you still don’t
come up with anything,
ask yourself: What languages can I learn?
And now matter how inconsequential
or insignificant that conversation
seems at the moment,
I promise you it will
serve you in the future.
My name is Poet Ali. Thank you.
(Applause)