What do you want to be when you grow up?
This seemingly innocent question, posed to us from childhood — typically by the age of five — often evolves into a source of nagging anxiety for many adults. For those of you who have ever felt as though your diverse set of interests make you act scattered, indecisive, or even “wrong,” then Emilie Wapnick’s TEDxBend Talk offers a refreshing and empowering perspective.
Her personal journey, which may be similar to yours, was a cycle of diving deep into a new passion, excelling, and then, inevitably, getting bored and moving on. This pattern led to feelings of inadequacy and a fear of never finding her “thing.”
But what if having many interests isn’t a flaw, but a superpower? Wapnick uses the term “multipotentialite” for someone who has many interests and creative pursuits. It isn’t about being afraid of commitment; it’s about being wired for breadth, not just depth, and seeking variety, instead of consistency.
Let’s take a look at how Emilie structure her talk for impact:
The Hook (Relatable Problem): Emilie identifies a shared experience — the “what do you want to be” question and the anxiety it often causes. A great personal story often begins by establishing common ground, making the audience feel seen and understood. In this case, it’s by asking a question. Alternatively, this effect can be achieved by making a direct statement.
The Journey (Personal Narrative): She then delves into her own struggle, detailing the cyclical nature of her interests. Her vulnerability and honesty builds connection with the audience. For your story, it could mean sharing your own patterns, or questions that arose from your unique experiences.
The Turning Point (Reframing the Narrative): Mentioning “multipotentialite” becomes an “aha!” moment, changing a perceived weakness into a strength. In your personal narrative, this is where you pivot from problem to potential. What new insight or understanding transformed your perspective based on the diversity of your experiences?
The Superpowers (Illustrating Your Unique Strengths): Emilie outlines 3 important “superpowers” of multipotentialites, using people who embody them as examples:
Idea Synthesis: The ability to combine seemingly disparate fields to create something new. For your story, think about how your varied interests intersect. How has your experience in one area uniquely informed your approach in another? This synthesis creates original perspectives that captivate.
Rapid Learning: The knack for grasping new subjects. This translates to your storytelling ability to quickly learn new skills or adapt to different narrative styles. It means you’re rarely starting from scratch because your past learnings are always transferable.
Adaptability: The capacity to morph into whatever is needed in a given situation. Your story isn’t static; it evolves and adapts. This superpower allows you to navigate challenges in your life and in your storytelling, ensuring your narrative remains relevant and dynamic.
The Call to Action (Empowering Conclusion): Emilie concludes her talk with a suggestion to embrace your inner wiring. Your multitude of passions isn’t a deficit; it’s precisely what the world needs.
Transcript
Raise your hand if you’ve ever been asked the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Now, if you had to guess, how old would you say you were when you were first asked this question? You can just hold up fingers.
Okay.
Now, raise your hand if the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” has ever caused you any anxiety.
Any anxiety at all?
I’m someone who’s never been able to answer the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” See, the problem wasn’t that I didn’t have any interests, it’s that I had too many. In high school, I liked English, and math, and art, and I built websites, and I played guitar in a punk band called Frustrated Telephone Operator. Maybe, maybe you’ve heard of us.
This continued after high school, and at a certain point, I began to notice this pattern in myself, where I would become interested in an area, and I would dive in and become all consumed, and I’d get to be pretty good at whatever it was. And then I would hit this point where I’d start to get bored.
And usually I would try and persist anyway, because I’d already devoted so much time and energy and sometimes money into this field. But eventually, this sense of boredom, this feeling of like, “Like, yeah, I got this. This isn’t challenging anymore.” It would get to be too much, and I would have to let it go.
But then I would become interested in something else, something totally unrelated, and I would dive into that and become all consumed, and I’d feel like, “Yes, I’ve found my thing!” And then I would hit this point again where I’d start to get bored. And eventually, I would let it go. But then I would discover something new and totally different, and I would dive into that.
This pattern caused me a lot of anxiety for two reasons. The first was that I wasn’t sure how I was going to turn any of this into a career. I thought that I would eventually have to pick one thing, deny all of my other passions, and just resign myself to being bored.
The other reason it caused me so much anxiety was a little bit more personal. I worried that there was something wrong with this, and something wrong with me for being unable to stick with anything. I worried that I was afraid of commitment, or that I was scattered, or that I was self-sabotaging, afraid of my own success.
If you can relate to my story and to these feelings, I’d like you to ask yourself a question that I wish I’d asked myself back then. Ask yourself where you learned to assign the meaning of wrong or abnormal to doing many things.
I’ll tell you where you learned it. You learned it from the culture.
We are first asked the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” when we’re about five years old. And the truth is that no one really cares what you say when you’re that age.
It’s considered an innocuous question, posed to little kids to elicit cute replies like, “I want to be an astronaut,” or “I want to be a ballerina,” or “I want to be a pirate.” Insert Halloween costume here.
But this question gets asked of us again and again as we get older, in various forms. For instance, high school students might get asked what major they’re going to pick in college. And at some point, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” goes from being the cute exercise it once was to the thing that keeps us up at night. Why?
See, while this question inspires kids to dream about what they could be, it does not inspire them to dream about all that they could be. In fact, it does just the opposite. Because when someone asks you what you want to be, you can’t reply with 20 different things. Though well-meaning adults will likely chuckle and be like, “Oh, how cute!” But, “You can’t be a violin maker and a psychologist, you have to choose.” This is Dr. Bob Child.
And he’s a luthier and a psychotherapist.
And this is Amy Ung, a magazine editor turned illustrator, entrepreneur, teacher, and creative director. But most kids don’t hear about people like this. All they hear is that they’re going to have to choose.
But it’s more than that. The notion of the narrowly focused life is highly romanticized in our culture. It’s this idea of destiny, or the one true calling, the idea that we each have one great thing we are meant to do during our time on this Earth, and you need to figure out what that thing is and devote your life to it.
But what if you’re someone who isn’t wired this way? What if there are a lot of different subjects that you’re curious about and many different things you want to do? Well, there is no room for someone like you in this framework. And so you might feel alone, you might feel like you don’t have a purpose, you might feel like there’s something wrong with you.
There’s nothing wrong with you. What you are is a multipotentialite.
A multipotentialite is someone with many interests and creative pursuits. It’s a mouthful to say. It might help if you break it up into three parts: multi, potential, and ite. You can also use one of the other terms that connote the same idea, such as the polymath, the Renaissance person.
Actually, during the Renaissance period, it was considered the ideal to be well-versed in multiple disciplines. Barbara Sher refers to us as scanners. Use whichever term you like or invent your own. I have to say I find it sort of fitting that as a community, we cannot agree on a single identity.
It’s easy to see our multipotentiality as a limitation, or an affliction that you need to overcome. But what I’ve learned through speaking with people and writing about these ideas on my website is that there are some tremendous strengths to being wired this way. Here are three multipotentialite superpowers.
One: Idea synthesis.
That is combining two or more fields and creating something new at the intersection. That’s where the new ideas come from.
Shaw Wong and Rachel Binks drew from their shared interests in cartography, data visualization, travel, mathematics, and design when they founded Mesh you.
Mesh you is a company that creates custom, geographically inspired jewelry. Shaw and Rachel came up with this unique idea not despite, but because of their eclectic mix of skills and experiences.
Innovation happens at the intersections. That’s where the new ideas come from. And multipotentialites, with all of their backgrounds, are able to access a lot of these points of intersection.
The second multipotentialite superpower is rapid learning.
When multipotentialites become interested in something, we go hard. We absorb everything we can get our hands on. We’re also so used to being beginners because we’ve been beginners so many times in the past.
And this means that we’re less afraid of trying new things and stepping out of our comfort zones. What’s more, many skills are transferable across disciplines, and we bring everything we’ve learned to every new area we pursue, so we’re rarely starting from scratch.
Nora Dunn is a full-time traveler and freelance writer. As a child concert pianist, she honed an incredible ability to develop muscle memory. Now, she’s the fastest typist she knows.
Before becoming a writer, Nora was a financial planner. She had to learn the finer mechanics of sales when she was starting her practice, and this skill now helps her write compelling pitches to editors. It is rarely a waste of time to pursue something you’re drawn to, even if you end up quitting. You might apply that knowledge in a different field entirely in a way that you couldn’t have anticipated.
The third multipotentialite superpower is adaptability.
That is the ability to morph into whatever you need to be in a given situation.
Abe Cahudo is sometimes a video director, sometimes a web designer, sometimes a Kickstarter consultant, sometimes a teacher, and sometimes, apparently, James Bond.
He’s valuable because he does good work. He’s even more valuable because he can take on various roles depending on his clients’ needs. Fast Company magazine identified adaptability as the single most important skill to develop in order to thrive in the 21st century. The economic world is changing so quickly and unpredictably that it is the individuals and organizations that can pivot in order to meet the needs of the market that are really going to thrive.
Idea synthesis, rapid learning, and adaptability. Three skills that multipotentialites are very adept at, and three skills that they might lose if pressured to narrow their focus.
As a society, we have a vested interest in encouraging multipotentialites to be themselves. We have a lot of complex, multi-dimensional problems in the world right now, and we need creative, out-of-the-box thinkers to tackle them.
Now, let’s say that you are, in your heart, a specialist. You came out of the womb knowing you wanted to be a pediatric neurosurgeon. Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with you either. In fact, some of the best teams are comprised of a specialist and multipotentialite paired together. The specialist can dive in deep and implement ideas, while the multipotentialite brings their breadth of knowledge to the project. It’s a beautiful partnership.
But we should all be designing lives and careers that are aligned with how we’re wired. And sadly, multipotentialites are largely being encouraged simply to be more like their specialist peers.
So, with that said, if there is one thing you take away from this talk, I hope that it is this: Embrace your inner wiring, whatever that may be. If you’re a specialist at heart, then by all means specialize. That is where you’ll do your best work. But to the multipotentialites in the room, including those of you who may have just realized in the last 12 minutes that you are one,
To you I say: Embrace your many passions. Follow your curiosity down those rabbit holes. Explore your intersections. Embracing our inner wiring leads to a happier, more authentic life. And perhaps more importantly, multipotentialites, the world needs us.
Back to you…
Do you have a similar story to tell? One that’s based upon valuable insights on a subject the audience can relate to? Note that you don’t have to be a scientist, or world renowned expert on the topic, but you do have to explain your idea with clarity, and support it with strong examples that illustrate your idea.
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Alexis Barton realizes that nothing good happens after 2 AM – Live at The Moth
/in Comedy, Humor, Personal Stories, The Moth/by Mark LovettPersonal stories don’t have to be extraordinary or sensational to have impact. They can just as easily be what I think of as everyday profound. On one level, they’re simple tales from life, but under the surface there’s a deeper meaning. Often a realization of some kind or an aha moment. And when there’s a funny thread running through your narrative, all the better. Alexis Barton’s story told at The Moth is a prime example of storytelling that I call humor with heart.
While her story is unique, many of us have been in relationships that could have become long lasting, but over time they faded away, and in the end, we realized it was for the best. And that’s a factor to consider when crafting your own story. Think about what makes your story different, all yours, and how the theme can connect to a broad audience?
What became evident to me while listening to Alexis’ story was her mastery of language and humor. Consider her use of the phrase poetic obstacle and the word situationship. This is difficult for most storytellers to pull off unless they happen to be a professional writer, which she reveals at the end. That said, I invite you to try your hand at crafting a unique phrase or novel hybrid word.
Notice the early hints she offers as to her background and style with mention of “Southern girls love bows”, and “Southern girls love hair ribbons”. On their own, they provide the audience with a sense of how she looks, but they also serve as a bit of foreshadowing when she later says, “I’m Sandra Dee in my little ponytail and hair ribbon.” It’s a clever callback, taking us from the general to the specific.
I also appreciated the way in which she compared herself to her quasi-boyfriend and his date when they all crossed paths in Walmart at 2am. Rather than saying “they were obviously together” and “I was obviously alone”, she refers to the fact that, “they had couple snacks…and I had single-girl food”. While either approach works, the former is simply stating a fact, while her word choice connects to the audience in a common way, as we’ve all been shopping and noticed what was in someone else’s shopping cart.
Transcript
Most love stories end with a white dress. Mine begins with one. The white dress I wore for my high school graduation was above the knee and chic, backless, and it had a sweet little bow at the back because Southern girls love bows.
And when I wore it to my graduation, I had no idea that it might serve a second purpose as a wedding dress, or more accurately, a dress to elope in.
But about two and a half years later, I was a college student at UAB, and I was, “Go Blazers!” I was dangerously in love with an upperclassman who lived two floors above me in the dorm, and we’ll call him Quinton.
Quinton was gorgeous. Every girl on campus wanted Quinton. But he wanted me. The fact that Quinton already had a girlfriend, that was just a poetic obstacle that I had to overcome. And I did.
Quinton and I sealed our “situationship” with a kiss under a streetlight in the rain, and it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me.
Now, we didn’t actually go out; we sofa-sat. That’s what you did before Netflix and chill. And we talked about all kinds of things and eventually the talk turned to marriage. Now, between us, we had one job, and both of us were still on our parents’ health insurance, and so this seemed like a fantastic idea. And we didn’t want to burden our parents with paying for a wedding, so we thought, we’ll cut class, like the scholars we were, and run down to Jefferson County and elope. And I already had the perfect dress in my closet at home, so I snuck home to Bruton, Alabama, and grabbed my high school dress and snuck it back.
Now, we chickened out. We didn’t actually elope. The day came and went and I just couldn’t do it and he couldn’t either. And we were all right with that. We continued to see each other and we were happy. And, uh, one night when we weren’t sofa-sitting, I went to Walmart with my roommate at 2 AM. As one does. That’s the perfect time to go to Walmart. It’s the witching hour, like going to Waffle House at the same hour. And as one does, we were wearing what most people are wearing at 2 AM—pajamas.
I had on a matching pastel kind of top and bottom with a little Peter Pan collar and white Keds, and I had a ponytail and I had a hair ribbon because Southern girls love hair ribbons. And we went down to Walmart on Lakeshore. And we were going to get some snacks. And, uh, we went all over the store, and we got chips and dip and Coke and Lean Cuisine and Crystal Light. And we made our way to the frozen food aisle because we needed ice cream. And if you’ve been in that Walmart, you know how wide and long that aisle is.
And so we are on the Blue Bell end, because I’m a Blue Bell girl. And we are looking at the options. And at the other end, the opposite end of the aisle, there is a couple coming toward us. And I’m severely nearsighted, so I can only really see y’all. I can’t see what’s happening at the back. And so we’re making our way down, India, my roommate, and I. And the couple at the opposite end is slowly coming toward us. And the closer they come to us, I realize it’s Quinton. And he’s on a date. And the girl was cute. She had on her going-out top. And if you know what I mean by that. Uh, she had on some cute jeans and some cute shoes and her hair and makeup was flawless. And look at me. I’m Sandra Dee in my little ponytail and hair ribbon.
And I took it all in as they walked past me. And I looked in their buggy and they had couple snacks. They had chocolate-covered Oreos. They had strawberries. They had wine. They had cubed cheese and olives. And it was obvious that they were together. Mind you, he had never taken me out. And I had single-girl food in my buggy. I had Lean Cuisine and Crystal Light. And I realized then that I was a single woman and I had had no clue all along. And we kept moving, we never broke stride. We get to the end of the aisle and I ask India, “Did I see what I thought I saw?” And I was hoping she would say no, but she’s not that type of person. She said, “Yeah, girl, you saw it. Everybody saw it in Walmart.” And, uh, she took me home. And this is—this is the point where I’d like to say I gathered my dignity, but I didn’t. I called another friend to pick me up, and we shot out for his house. Because it was his term to face uncomfortable truths at an inconvenient time in front of an audience—his neighbors. And I let him have it. And I realized in the moment how afraid he was of me when I popped out of the shadows, and I realized, you know, girl, this is over. And so I left.
This story has a happy ending. Two happy endings, because Quinton married that girl, and they have a beautiful family. And I lived to tell this story here tonight, so we both won. And if there are any lessons from this, and there are three that I have—it has taken me several years to come to. It is: nothing good happens after 2 AM, just like your mother said. Never double-cross a writer because you will become material. And three: always wear your cute outfit when you go out, because you never know who you’re gonna see in Walmart.
Thank you.
Back to you…
What stood out to you? At what points did you connect to her story? Especially if there was a passage that described something you’ve never experienced, but it resonated with you at a higher level.
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Mike Sella goes skydiving with his daughter – at The Moth in San Francisco
/in Family, Humor, Life Lessons, The Moth/by Mark LovettHave you ever found yourself in a situation that forced you to face your fears? And there was really no way out? Most likely you have, and such life events can become the basis for personal stories that others can connect to. Even if those hearing your story haven’t had the same experience as you, they can relate to the common emotions that such situations evoke.
Delivered at The Moth in San Francisco, Mike Sella shares a story about the time went skydiving for his daughter’s birthday, despite his fear of heights. From the setup to exiting the plane, we’re with him for the journey, and it’s a fun ride.
Let’s take a look at how Mike structured his story to connect with the audience, create tension, and deliver a comedic punchline that beautifully brings us full circle.
Rather than starting with the terrifying prospect of jumping out of a plane, he takes us to a familiar, low-stakes setting: Disneyland. In doing so, he establishes three critical elements. First, he’s a loving, fun dad. Second, he has a signature shtick — faking a bored yawn for the on-ride roller coaster camera. And third, his daughter Parker wants to go skydiving, a prospect that clashes with his self-professed “big fear of heights.”
His exaggerated yawn, which is basically an inside joke with his daughter, seems like a minor act, but it’s something that we subconsciously file away. Eventually we see that it’s the key to the entire story, but in the beginning, he’s planting a narrative seed. It’s a classic use of foreshadowing that enriches the overall story.
Describing himself as the “luggage of someone who is skydiving” is a perfect visual metaphor, as it highlights his complete lack of agency. Something we all fear. The anxiety goes up a notch with his comments about the “casually dangling” leg of another skydiver, as well as the plane taking off without the door closed. We feel his sense of panic, but the tone is still humorous, and we’re enjoying the journey.
When his daughter disappears from the plane, Mike realizes it’s a point of no return, and his motivation shifts from fear of jumping to the primal fear of losing his child, which gives him the push he needs.
As he’s plummeting to Earth, and the audience is plummeting with him, the instructor gestures for him to smile for the camera. But instead of smiling, Mike executes his signature move: the exaggerated yawn.
The seed planted in the story’s opening minutes blooms into a moment of sublime comedic triumph. This callback elevates the story from a simple anecdote to a perfectly crafted piece of storytelling.
And it’s not just a funny scene; it’s also a character-defining moment. In the face of intense fear, Mike holds on to a key piece of his identity — the funny, shtick-loving dad.
Listen to his story a second time while reading the transcript. Notice how he creates scenes we can easily see ourselves in, and how his vulnerability serves both the tension and the humor. The callback is classic and really ties a bow on the story. Think about your own experiences that were challenging, yet provided an opportunity for growth. We’ve all had them, and in most cases, funny moments were a part of the journey.
Transcript
A few years ago, my daughter was home for the summer from college, and we decided to go to Disneyland for a few days where we did a few things that really brought me joy. One, a bunch of the roller coasters there have cameras that take a picture at the scariest moment.
And my shtick that I’ve done for years is that I like to do a big exaggerated yawn right when they take the picture. So you see them and everyone looks really scared, and there I am in the middle just aggressively bored. And Parker did it with me, which really pleased me very much.
And I learned about her. I learned that one of the things on her bucket list is that she wants to go skydiving one day. And I thought, wow, that makes one of us, weirdo. Because I have a big fear of heights. I’m uncomfortable on a ladder, let alone walking off of an airplane voluntarily. But I took this thought and I stored it away.
And a few days later, I’m chatting with my wife, and somehow the words that came out of my mouth were, “We should all go skydiving for Parker’s birthday,” when what I was thinking was, “I will get out of this somehow.” But her birthday was months away, and I thought this is a problem for Future Mike. And I pushed all my fear down into my bowels.
A few months later, Future Mike wakes up and it’s skydiving day. And I’m Future Mike. And my bowels are very unhappy. But I drive us to the Watsonville Airport and we check in for our skydiving appointment. And there’s a bunch of forms to fill out that very specifically list all the different types of death and dismemberment that you promise not to sue them for.
And then we meet our skydiving partners because when you go skydiving for the first time, you don’t do that by yourself. You don’t even get a parachute. Your skydiving instructor puts a parachute on their back, and they strap you to their front like a big Baby Bjorn. So it’s not like you’re really skydiving, you’re just the luggage of someone who is skydiving.
And we meet our instructors and they’re very chill dudes. Mine is named Stefan. He’s like one part snowboarding instructor, one part Top Gun, and like two parts sunglasses. And we go through the training, which is just like explaining how to be good, polite luggage.
And then they take us out to the runway to see the group in front of us, and a small plane pulls up and two instructors and two skydivers get in the back. And the plane starts to taxi away, and they don’t even bother closing the door. One dude’s leg is just casually dangling out the door.
And this is where I really start to flip out. I mean, there was a leg dangling. I’ve been in airplanes, and normally when my airplanes taxi, I’m not even allowed to have my tray table down, let alone part of me hanging out of the airplane. So I turned to Parker and my wife and I say, “Hey, how are you guys feeling?” And they’re fine. They’re happy, they’re excited, like psychopaths.
And so our plane pulls up next and two instructors get in, and then Parker and I get in, sort of, you know, with our backs to them. We scoop between their legs, like we’re the little spoons. And the plane starts to taxi and it takes off, and I realize that I’m not strapped to Stefan yet. And I ask him in my calmest and most high-pitched voice, I say, “Hey, hey Stefan, don’t you think you should just strap us together?” And Stefan is chill. He says not to worry. I am not chill. I am very worried.
And I’m going through in my head how I’m going to get out of this. I signed a lot of forms. Maybe I gave up the right to do this. I don’t know, maybe luggage doesn’t even have rights. If I don’t do this, will my daughter be disappointed in me? Or am I just going to let peer pressure make me jump out of an airplane?
And as I’m masterminding my escape, Stefan says, “It’s go time!” because that’s how he talks. And Parker’s due to go first. So I see her and her instructor inch towards the door, and it’s surreal. And the door opens, and they’re gone. My daughter, my only child has fallen out of an airplane. I spent 20 years trying to convince her not to run with scissors. And now she has literally tumbled out of an airplane in front of me. And suddenly I am very motivated to skydive.
And so Stefan and I, he sort of scooches and I sort of Samsonite my way over to the door. And then my leg is dangling out that open door. And Stefan pushes us out. And we are tumbling and it is windy and it is noisy and it is terrifying. And we are free-falling for like 30 seconds or a week or something.
And Stefan pulls the parachute ripcord. And he’s also doing his other job which is to video record the whole thing. Like I’m ever going to watch this worst day of my life again. And he gestures to me to smile for the camera, and I look up at the camera and I go… [mimes a huge yawn].
Am I proud of myself for facing my fears and supporting my daughter and skydiving with her? Yeah, sure, whatever, a little bit. But am I really pleased with myself for making that stupid gag while plummeting to earth? Oh my God, yes, so much. That is my favorite. But the next few years for Parker’s birthday, we just sheltered in place and that was way better.
Thank you.
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Is This the Time of Monsters or Miracles? – Angus Hervey at TED2025
/in Democracy, Environment, Government, Humanity, TED Talk/by Mark LovettThe story of our planet’s future is complex, with both positive and negative narratives unfolding. As Angus Hervey explains in his talk at TED2025, global collapse and unprecedented progress exist simultaneously within a state of “contested terrain,” and humanity’s ultimate trajectory is determined by the daily choices and deliberate actions we take in order to create a narrative of constructive solutions over destruction and despair.
From a storytelling perspective, how does Angus get his point across and create impact? One technique that he employs is a non-traditional structure built upon Juxtaposition and Paradox, contrasting a widely told “Story of Collapse” with the often-overlooked “Story of Renewal.”
It’s a technique often used when describing social issues that essentially says, “You may be thinking this story is unfolding in one direction, and while there is truth in that view, there’s an alternate narrative that you also need to consider.”
Let’s take a look at how Angus takes the audience on a factual and emotional journey that ultimately leads to the message his story is designed to convey.
Note how he reveals his profession when he says, “I’m a solutions journalist.” Have you ever heard that phrase before? Probably not, so it becomes a hook, capturing your attention, as we’re curious about anything that’s unfamiliar.
He expands on this theme with, “reporting on stories of progress”, but then turns the narrative on its head by offering, “maybe I was wrong”. After three sentences we want to find out where his story is heading.
He illustrates the idea that he may be wrong by recounting a few present-day problems that we have heard about: the end of rules-based order, power over principle, science under attack, casual cruelty, etc. At this point in the story we feel the weight of the negative narratives that dominate our daily news cycle.
But then he signals a shift in tone by saying, “There is something missing though from this story.”, and goes on to list off a much longer series of positive events and accomplishments that are happening around the world.
This tonal shift is also apparent in his choice of words as he transitions from “monsters,” “vandalism,” and “unraveling” to using positive language, such as “bending the curve,” “protected,” and “breakthroughs”.
It’s a reminder that your word choice matters. So as you craft your story, seek out specific words and phrases that not only describe what you’re thinking, but also contain emotional impact.
Transcript
I’m a solutions journalist. For over a decade, I’ve been reporting on stories of progress.
But in the last few months, I’ve started to think that maybe I was wrong.
Almost a century ago, the Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci, thrown into prison by Mussolini, wrote: “The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.”
Those words are haunting. It feels like he could be speaking to us today. A great unravelling is underway, and you know this story because it is everywhere.
The end of the international rules-based order. Power over principle. Aid budgets obliterated. Science under attack. Putin, Zelensky, Trump, Gaza, hospitals, hostages. Sudan, famine, DRC, rebels, Yemen, Venezuela, Turkey, Hungary, Taiwan. The United States of America. The economic vandalism, the contempt for the rule of law, the casual cruelty, the measles.
All of the values that we assumed were universal — truth, decency, common sense — face not just reversal but violent backlash. Beneath the surface, deeper, more menacing undercurrents: the digital platforms that were supposed to connect us now do the opposite. Algorithms breed paranoia, manufacturing division, drowning truth in deliberate falsehoods.
Carl Sagan warned us about this: an era where people, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, “we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness.”
And as we argue online, planetary crisis: firestorms in our cities, plastic in our blood, the pollinators, the permafrost, the coral reefs, an ice-free Arctic within our lifetimes. The tipping points loom, and Gramsci’s monsters are at the gates, precisely at the moment that we seem least equipped to deal with them.
This is the story of collapse. It is on the front page of all the news sites. It is at the top of all our newsfeeds. We are intimately familiar with its graphic details. You can tune it out. You can turn it off. But you cannot ignore it.
There is something missing though from this story. Is there room in it for the words of people like Hellen Awuor O’ruro, a nurse from Kenya?
[Kenyan Nurse Voiceover]: “What I can say is that the deaths that we used to see from the severe forms of malaria in children under five have greatly gone down. And I think this is being attributed to the presence of this vaccine. The mere fact that we can now reduce these deaths, it’s really great for our community, because no one should lose a child.”
Just over 12 months ago, humanity began the roll-out of the first ever vaccine for malaria. And as you can hear, it’s working. The kids aren’t dying anymore. Already, over 5 million children in 17 countries have been vaccinated. By the end of this decade, the plan is to reach 50 million. 50 million children finally protected against a disease that has been killing children since before we invented writing. And that is not the only story that’s missing.
Since you were last all in this room, 11 countries have eliminated a disease, including Jordan, the first ever country to eliminate leprosy. Eight countries, home to over 100 million children, have either banned or committed to banning corporal punishment in all settings. Zambia, Sierra Leone, and Colombia all banned child marriage. Syria rid itself of a 50-year-old autocratic regime.
Bangladesh’s students sparked democratic change through massive protests. Voters in India, the world’s largest democracy, firmly rejected authoritarianism. England, Ireland, and Canada extended free contraception to more women. Indonesia launched a program to feed all 70 million of its school students. And did you know that Cambodia, once the world’s most mined country, is on its track to be landmine-free within the next few years?
In 2024, fewer people died from natural disasters than almost any year in history. The murder rate in the United States saw its biggest ever 12-month decline, beating the previous record which was set in 2023. And deforestation in the Amazon declined to its fourth lowest level on record, an achievement that gives me more hope for life on Earth than all the rockets that we send to Mars.
Last year, we installed enough solar panels and wind turbines to replace 6% of the world’s fossil fuel electricity. This year, we will install even more. We are bending the curve. Emissions are declining in Europe and America and have finally leveled off in China.
Electric vehicles are biting into oil demand now. Wind, water, and sunshine will overtake coal this year as the world’s leading power source, regardless of what anyone says in the White House.
And thanks to artificial intelligence, we are now starting to see breakthroughs we once thought impossible: the biggest boost to human knowledge since the scientific revolution.
We are determining the structure and interaction of every single one of life’s molecules, inventing extraordinary new enzymes, new drugs, new materials, controlling plasma and nuclear fusion experiments.
Last year, we got a new miracle drug for HIV prevention, mRNA vaccines for cancer. We found the building blocks for life in an asteroid, decoded whale speech, and discovered fractals in the quantum realm.
Did you know that sea turtle populations are increasing around the world? Or that overfishing is declining in the Mediterranean? Or that last year China finished encircling its largest desert with a giant belt of trees, its very own Great Green Wall?
And this year, the United States created its largest conservation corridor, stretching from Utah down to California. These are all victories from the last 12 months, but they happened because people, often small groups of people, fought for years and sometimes decades.
And if we extend our time frame out, even better news: over 4 million square kilometers of the world’s oceans have been protected in the last four years. Air pollution has started to decline. In the last decade, over 250 million children have gained access to clean water, sanitation, and hygiene at school. And in this century—this insane roller coaster of a century—over a billion people have been lifted from extreme poverty.
Deaths from the world’s deadliest infectious diseases have halved, and for the first time in history, over 50% of students receive a high school education. We have no precedent for that: a world where the majority of people can read, write, and calculate, where most humans possess the tools to question authority and determine their own destinies.
So, which one of these stories is true? Is this the long-awaited fall from grace, or are we on a journey to the promised land? Collapse, or renewal?
The answer, of course, is that it’s both. And the truth is that it has always been this way. Even as we rebuilt from the ashes of the Second World War, the shadow of nuclear annihilation loomed. The pandemic devastated our communities, yet our scientific response was revolutionary.
Climate change threatens our future, yet its solution, clean energy, offers us a fairer, better world. This is not an easy paradox to hold in your head or in your heart: the understanding that in the same moment, innocent people are being snatched off the streets and children are dying in air strikes, the malaria wards are emptying across an entire continent, and in a faraway village under a thousand stars, a young girl who would once have been forced into marriage is studying equations under an electric light that wasn’t there a year ago.
Real life isn’t a story. History doesn’t have a moral arc. Progress isn’t a rule. It is contested terrain, fought for daily by millions of people who refuse to give in to despair. Ultimately, none of us know whether we are living in the downswing or the upswing of history.
But I do know that we all get a choice. We, all of us, get to decide which one of these stories we are a part of. We add to their grand weave in the work that we do, in the daily decisions we make about where we put our money, where we put our energy, and our time, in the stories we tell each other, and in the words that come out of our mouths.
It is not enough to believe in something anymore. It is time to do something. Ask yourself, if our worst fears come to pass and the monsters breach the walls, who do you want to be standing next to? The prophets of doom, the cynics who said “we told you so,” or the people who with their eyes wide open, dug the trenches and fetched water.
Both of these stories are true. But the only question that matters now is which one do you belong to?
Back to you…
So how did you feel after hearing Angus’ story? Did your perspective shift from doom to hope? The feeling of hope, or the belief that a better future is possible, is the most common goal when telling an impactful personal story.
The rehearsal process is where you have the opportunity to get feedback from trusted friends as to how they felt after hearing your story. If the impact wasn’t felt, you have more editing to do. But not to worry, as it typically takes a number of draft revisions to hit the reaction you’re looking for.
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What grief and soy sauce taught me about life after loss – Charlene Lam at TEDxLisboa
/in Family, Grief, Life Lessons, Relationships, TEDx, Trauma/by Mark LovettI’m constantly reminded of the simple fact that each of us lives a unique life — as no two life journeys are identical — and yet our experiences share common threads and themes. So it is with loss, as it’s a constant throughout life. We lose loved ones, or move on from one job to the next. During a natural disaster we may lose physical objects, possibly our entire home.
When loss happens, grief soon follows, and quite often we’re not sure how to react. Dealing with grief is not something we learn in school. At best, we learn from watching how others handle it. In her talk at TEDxLisboa, Charlene Lam shares her experience dealing with grief after her mother died unexpectedly from a stroke.
Charlene also brings the wisdom she’s gained over the years as the founder of The Grief Gallery , and author of Curating Grief. You might say Charlene is no stranger to grief.
Charlene begins her talk with a simple, relatable image: a bottle of soy sauce in her mother’s kitchen. Growing up, this soy sauce evoked pleasant memories of home cooking and family dim sum. But after her mother passed, that everyday object took on a new, heavier meaning.
It symbolized the arduous task of clearing out her mother’s home, of letting go of personal possessions imbued with heartfelt memory and connection. This opening anecdote perfectly illustrates how tangible items become vessels of immense emotional weight after loss.
Her initial reaction was to “hold on tight” to every single item her mother owned, fearing that letting go of these objects meant letting go of her mother’s memory. This is contrasted with her husband’s suggestion to “just throw it away,” which represents detachment.
These extremes bring in a sense of tension into Charlene’s narrative, and at the same time, serves as a reminder that society often presents us with such binary messages. That it’s all or nothing. At this point, I’m sure many in the audience are reflecting on their own experiences with loss and grief. Reviewing how they may have reacted.
At this point Charlene proposes a different approach: “holding lightly.” Holding lightly, she explains, is about appreciating the beauty and joy of life while also acknowledging the reality of impermanence.
What I find brilliant in how Charlene tells this story is how the narrative weaves in her personal experience with grief, explores the topic more deeply in order to shift the focus away from her and engage the audience. In this way, she’s able to illustrate the fact that grief is a natural part of life that everyone must deal with at some point. What’s unique is also universal.
In the end, we’re invited to examine our own perspective on the matter, and to consider a new way to approach the issue, by holding lightly, and living life fully.
Transcript
When I say soy sauce, what do you think of?
Maybe you think of eating dumplings, soy sauce with sushi. When I think of soy sauce, I think of my mother.
In particular, I think of the bottle of soy sauce in my mother’s kitchen. And how that bottle of soy sauce took on a whole new meaning after she died.
Before my mother died suddenly in 2013, soy sauce reminded me of good food, home cooking, eating dim sum with my family in New York City.
After she died, soy sauce represented my connection to my mother, and it represented the terrible task that I had of trying to clear out her house and trying to let go of the thousands of objects in her home.
Have you experienced something similar? Can you think of a simple object that takes on a whole new meaning for you? Maybe it seems insignificant to other people. And maybe you’ve experienced the exact phenomenon that I did, where an object suddenly becomes precious after a loved one dies.
For you, it might be your grandmother’s ring, your father’s watch, or a family photo. These are the things that are precious to us. These are the things that we hold close to our hearts. These are the things that we would save in a fire. And it hurts when we lose them.
Loss is a fundamental part of being human. Grief is universal. We will all experience it. For some of us, loss will come in the form of a natural disaster: fire, flood, earthquake. Or an unnatural disaster: war breaks out in our country.
[Or a personal disaster. My mother dies of a stroke. Your marriage ends. You lose the job you love. You get a medical diagnosis that changes your life.
In Portuguese, we have this beautiful word, Saudade. I am still learning the depth of the meaning of this untranslatable word. But my understanding is that Saudade means longing for, missing something that we’ve lost, or that we may lose. We know that loss will come.
I talk about and I exhibit soy sauce a lot in my creative work. It represents my connection to my mother, but it also represents this key challenge that we have as humans. Intellectually, we know that we will die. We know that everything we love will someday die. How do we still live full, joyful, beautiful lives, knowing this will happen?
How do we love and feel attached to people, places, pets, and things, knowing that someday we may need to say goodbye?
There are several ways to approach this. When my mother died, I wanted to keep everything. I wanted to hold on to all her clothes, all the furniture, even the ugly furniture.
I wanted to hold on tight because it felt like I needed them to survive. Not everyone understands this. My husband, he said, “It’s just stuff. Just throw it away.”
Yes, I considered divorce. He did not understand that throwing away my mother’s belongings felt like throwing her memory away. It felt like throwing her away.
That’s the thing about grief. We can all have a wide variety of reactions to loss. I’m thinking of a father who threw away all of his wife’s clothing after she died immediately because it was too painful for him to see her dresses, her shoes, her jewelry. His daughters did not understand.
[These are all natural reactions. I wanted to keep everything, and someone else might say, “If it hurts so much to lose, if loss is going to come, I don’t want to hold on to anything.” That’s an option too, for all of us. We could give away our belongings, we could move to a distant land, we can say goodbye to our family and friends, and we can all live like monks.
It’s an option. It feels a little black or white. Hold on to everything or hold on to nothing.
When we’re grieving, it can feel like we only have those two options because of a major misunderstanding about grief. When we’re grieving, we get messages like, “You need to move on. You need to let go. You need to live your own life.” The implication is that if you hold on, you are staying stuck in the past. Black or white.
Move on, let go, or stay stuck.
What if it doesn’t have to be black or white? What if I want to hold on to a connection with my mother without having to hold on to a half-empty bottle of soy sauce forever? And I want to live my own beautiful life. What if we want to have full, joyous lives, knowing that loss will come? My suggestion is to hold lightly.
What do I mean by hold lightly? Earlier I mentioned how I wanted to hold on to everything that my mother owned. Hold on tight as if my life depended on it. Using your hand, can you show me what it might look like to hold tight? What does it look like to hold on tight to something?
Yes, as if you need it to survive. Yes. Some of you are making a fist, right? Some of you have a claw kind of shape. There is tension in your hand, there’s effort and energy in your arm. There might even be tension in your face. Now, what might it look like to hold lightly?
Yes. Some of you used both hands, forming like a cup or a bowl. Your hand is open. Some of you used one hand, palm up, fingers relaxed. This is how we hold lightly. We hold lightly and we can have things. We can hold them close to our hearts, knowing. Knowing that that bird might fly away.
Knowing that beauty will fade, knowing that life will change. Now, why is it important to hold lightly? I believe that when we hold lightly, we give ourselves the opportunity to live life in full color.
Not just black or white, but to live experiencing the full range of colors, all the shades, all the hues. To live with all the textures, all the flavors, tasting the bitter and the sweet. Maybe Saudade, like soy sauce, makes life more delicious.
Maybe grief can make life more beautiful. I find that when I hold lightly, I experience the world and I move through life in a different way. I look into my husband’s eyes and I fall in love with all the little details, trying to memorize them, knowing that someday I may lose him.
When you step out into the world today, no matter where you are, see if the idea of holding lightly helps you to experience the world differently. Maybe we admire a sunset, knowing that those colors will fade. Maybe we enjoy the smell of freshly baked Pastel de Nata, knowing that that fragrance will disappear.
Maybe we hear a song or experience music differently, delighting in that moment. Maybe we even experience soy sauce differently. Maybe now soy sauce tastes like the love of a mother, or soy sauce tastes like a love of life and living.
Grief taught me how to hold lightly. I invite you to hold lightly and to live fully in full color.
Thank you.
Back to you…
As Charlene notes, loss is inevitable, as is the grief we experience afterwards. How have you dealt with grief in your life? Did you embrace the all-or-nothing approach? The idea of holding lightly is one way that we can savor what we’ve lost, to remember the past while fully living in the present.
Even if your story involves a completely different topic, examine how Charlene structured her narrative in a way that engaged the audience, made the subject relatable, and presented her lessons learned as an option for dealing with the issue. It’s a universal structure that’s worth considering.
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Why some of us don’t have one true calling – Emilie Wapnick at TEDxBend 2015
/in Career, Entrepreneurs, Life Lessons, TEDx/by Mark LovettWhat do you want to be when you grow up?
This seemingly innocent question, posed to us from childhood — typically by the age of five — often evolves into a source of nagging anxiety for many adults. For those of you who have ever felt as though your diverse set of interests make you act scattered, indecisive, or even “wrong,” then Emilie Wapnick’s TEDxBend Talk offers a refreshing and empowering perspective.
Her personal journey, which may be similar to yours, was a cycle of diving deep into a new passion, excelling, and then, inevitably, getting bored and moving on. This pattern led to feelings of inadequacy and a fear of never finding her “thing.”
But what if having many interests isn’t a flaw, but a superpower? Wapnick uses the term “multipotentialite” for someone who has many interests and creative pursuits. It isn’t about being afraid of commitment; it’s about being wired for breadth, not just depth, and seeking variety, instead of consistency.
Let’s take a look at how Emilie structure her talk for impact:
The Hook (Relatable Problem): Emilie identifies a shared experience — the “what do you want to be” question and the anxiety it often causes. A great personal story often begins by establishing common ground, making the audience feel seen and understood. In this case, it’s by asking a question. Alternatively, this effect can be achieved by making a direct statement.
The Journey (Personal Narrative): She then delves into her own struggle, detailing the cyclical nature of her interests. Her vulnerability and honesty builds connection with the audience. For your story, it could mean sharing your own patterns, or questions that arose from your unique experiences.
The Turning Point (Reframing the Narrative): Mentioning “multipotentialite” becomes an “aha!” moment, changing a perceived weakness into a strength. In your personal narrative, this is where you pivot from problem to potential. What new insight or understanding transformed your perspective based on the diversity of your experiences?
The Superpowers (Illustrating Your Unique Strengths): Emilie outlines 3 important “superpowers” of multipotentialites, using people who embody them as examples:
Idea Synthesis: The ability to combine seemingly disparate fields to create something new. For your story, think about how your varied interests intersect. How has your experience in one area uniquely informed your approach in another? This synthesis creates original perspectives that captivate.
Rapid Learning: The knack for grasping new subjects. This translates to your storytelling ability to quickly learn new skills or adapt to different narrative styles. It means you’re rarely starting from scratch because your past learnings are always transferable.
Adaptability: The capacity to morph into whatever is needed in a given situation. Your story isn’t static; it evolves and adapts. This superpower allows you to navigate challenges in your life and in your storytelling, ensuring your narrative remains relevant and dynamic.
The Call to Action (Empowering Conclusion): Emilie concludes her talk with a suggestion to embrace your inner wiring. Your multitude of passions isn’t a deficit; it’s precisely what the world needs.
Transcript
Raise your hand if you’ve ever been asked the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Now, if you had to guess, how old would you say you were when you were first asked this question? You can just hold up fingers.
Okay.
Now, raise your hand if the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” has ever caused you any anxiety.
Any anxiety at all?
I’m someone who’s never been able to answer the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” See, the problem wasn’t that I didn’t have any interests, it’s that I had too many. In high school, I liked English, and math, and art, and I built websites, and I played guitar in a punk band called Frustrated Telephone Operator. Maybe, maybe you’ve heard of us.
This continued after high school, and at a certain point, I began to notice this pattern in myself, where I would become interested in an area, and I would dive in and become all consumed, and I’d get to be pretty good at whatever it was. And then I would hit this point where I’d start to get bored.
And usually I would try and persist anyway, because I’d already devoted so much time and energy and sometimes money into this field. But eventually, this sense of boredom, this feeling of like, “Like, yeah, I got this. This isn’t challenging anymore.” It would get to be too much, and I would have to let it go.
But then I would become interested in something else, something totally unrelated, and I would dive into that and become all consumed, and I’d feel like, “Yes, I’ve found my thing!” And then I would hit this point again where I’d start to get bored. And eventually, I would let it go. But then I would discover something new and totally different, and I would dive into that.
This pattern caused me a lot of anxiety for two reasons. The first was that I wasn’t sure how I was going to turn any of this into a career. I thought that I would eventually have to pick one thing, deny all of my other passions, and just resign myself to being bored.
The other reason it caused me so much anxiety was a little bit more personal. I worried that there was something wrong with this, and something wrong with me for being unable to stick with anything. I worried that I was afraid of commitment, or that I was scattered, or that I was self-sabotaging, afraid of my own success.
If you can relate to my story and to these feelings, I’d like you to ask yourself a question that I wish I’d asked myself back then. Ask yourself where you learned to assign the meaning of wrong or abnormal to doing many things.
I’ll tell you where you learned it. You learned it from the culture.
We are first asked the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” when we’re about five years old. And the truth is that no one really cares what you say when you’re that age.
It’s considered an innocuous question, posed to little kids to elicit cute replies like, “I want to be an astronaut,” or “I want to be a ballerina,” or “I want to be a pirate.” Insert Halloween costume here.
But this question gets asked of us again and again as we get older, in various forms. For instance, high school students might get asked what major they’re going to pick in college. And at some point, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” goes from being the cute exercise it once was to the thing that keeps us up at night. Why?
See, while this question inspires kids to dream about what they could be, it does not inspire them to dream about all that they could be. In fact, it does just the opposite. Because when someone asks you what you want to be, you can’t reply with 20 different things. Though well-meaning adults will likely chuckle and be like, “Oh, how cute!” But, “You can’t be a violin maker and a psychologist, you have to choose.” This is Dr. Bob Child.
And he’s a luthier and a psychotherapist.
And this is Amy Ung, a magazine editor turned illustrator, entrepreneur, teacher, and creative director. But most kids don’t hear about people like this. All they hear is that they’re going to have to choose.
But it’s more than that. The notion of the narrowly focused life is highly romanticized in our culture. It’s this idea of destiny, or the one true calling, the idea that we each have one great thing we are meant to do during our time on this Earth, and you need to figure out what that thing is and devote your life to it.
But what if you’re someone who isn’t wired this way? What if there are a lot of different subjects that you’re curious about and many different things you want to do? Well, there is no room for someone like you in this framework. And so you might feel alone, you might feel like you don’t have a purpose, you might feel like there’s something wrong with you.
There’s nothing wrong with you. What you are is a multipotentialite.
A multipotentialite is someone with many interests and creative pursuits. It’s a mouthful to say. It might help if you break it up into three parts: multi, potential, and ite. You can also use one of the other terms that connote the same idea, such as the polymath, the Renaissance person.
Actually, during the Renaissance period, it was considered the ideal to be well-versed in multiple disciplines. Barbara Sher refers to us as scanners. Use whichever term you like or invent your own. I have to say I find it sort of fitting that as a community, we cannot agree on a single identity.
It’s easy to see our multipotentiality as a limitation, or an affliction that you need to overcome. But what I’ve learned through speaking with people and writing about these ideas on my website is that there are some tremendous strengths to being wired this way. Here are three multipotentialite superpowers.
One: Idea synthesis.
That is combining two or more fields and creating something new at the intersection. That’s where the new ideas come from.
Shaw Wong and Rachel Binks drew from their shared interests in cartography, data visualization, travel, mathematics, and design when they founded Mesh you.
Mesh you is a company that creates custom, geographically inspired jewelry. Shaw and Rachel came up with this unique idea not despite, but because of their eclectic mix of skills and experiences.
Innovation happens at the intersections. That’s where the new ideas come from. And multipotentialites, with all of their backgrounds, are able to access a lot of these points of intersection.
The second multipotentialite superpower is rapid learning.
When multipotentialites become interested in something, we go hard. We absorb everything we can get our hands on. We’re also so used to being beginners because we’ve been beginners so many times in the past.
And this means that we’re less afraid of trying new things and stepping out of our comfort zones. What’s more, many skills are transferable across disciplines, and we bring everything we’ve learned to every new area we pursue, so we’re rarely starting from scratch.
Nora Dunn is a full-time traveler and freelance writer. As a child concert pianist, she honed an incredible ability to develop muscle memory. Now, she’s the fastest typist she knows.
Before becoming a writer, Nora was a financial planner. She had to learn the finer mechanics of sales when she was starting her practice, and this skill now helps her write compelling pitches to editors. It is rarely a waste of time to pursue something you’re drawn to, even if you end up quitting. You might apply that knowledge in a different field entirely in a way that you couldn’t have anticipated.
The third multipotentialite superpower is adaptability.
That is the ability to morph into whatever you need to be in a given situation.
Abe Cahudo is sometimes a video director, sometimes a web designer, sometimes a Kickstarter consultant, sometimes a teacher, and sometimes, apparently, James Bond.
He’s valuable because he does good work. He’s even more valuable because he can take on various roles depending on his clients’ needs. Fast Company magazine identified adaptability as the single most important skill to develop in order to thrive in the 21st century. The economic world is changing so quickly and unpredictably that it is the individuals and organizations that can pivot in order to meet the needs of the market that are really going to thrive.
Idea synthesis, rapid learning, and adaptability. Three skills that multipotentialites are very adept at, and three skills that they might lose if pressured to narrow their focus.
As a society, we have a vested interest in encouraging multipotentialites to be themselves. We have a lot of complex, multi-dimensional problems in the world right now, and we need creative, out-of-the-box thinkers to tackle them.
Now, let’s say that you are, in your heart, a specialist. You came out of the womb knowing you wanted to be a pediatric neurosurgeon. Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with you either. In fact, some of the best teams are comprised of a specialist and multipotentialite paired together. The specialist can dive in deep and implement ideas, while the multipotentialite brings their breadth of knowledge to the project. It’s a beautiful partnership.
But we should all be designing lives and careers that are aligned with how we’re wired. And sadly, multipotentialites are largely being encouraged simply to be more like their specialist peers.
So, with that said, if there is one thing you take away from this talk, I hope that it is this: Embrace your inner wiring, whatever that may be. If you’re a specialist at heart, then by all means specialize. That is where you’ll do your best work. But to the multipotentialites in the room, including those of you who may have just realized in the last 12 minutes that you are one,
To you I say: Embrace your many passions. Follow your curiosity down those rabbit holes. Explore your intersections. Embracing our inner wiring leads to a happier, more authentic life. And perhaps more importantly, multipotentialites, the world needs us.
Back to you…
Do you have a similar story to tell? One that’s based upon valuable insights on a subject the audience can relate to? Note that you don’t have to be a scientist, or world renowned expert on the topic, but you do have to explain your idea with clarity, and support it with strong examples that illustrate your idea.
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