How to work out who you really are
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 …
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)