Storytelling with Impact | Blog posts on crafting stories

What Hath God Wrought: The Telegraph’s Birth and the Transformation of Human Connection

May 24, 2025/in Entrepreneurs, History, Science, Society, Technology/by Mark Lovett

Picture this: It’s May 24th, 1844, and in a small room in the Supreme Court chamber of the Capitol building in Washington, D.C., a man sits nervously before a peculiar contraption of wires and metal. Samuel Finley Breese Morse, artist turned inventor, is about to send a message that will forever change how human beings connect across vast distances. With careful deliberation, he taps out a biblical phrase in his newly invented code: “What hath God wrought.”

Forty miles away in Baltimore, Maryland, his assistant Alfred Vail receives those dots and dashes, translates them back into words, and immediately sends the same message back to Washington. In that moment — lasting mere minutes — the world became fundamentally smaller, and the pace of human civilization began to quicken in ways that Samuel Morse himself could never have imagined.

Samuel Finley Breese Morse from National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; Frederick Hill Meserve Collection

The Man Behind the Message

Samuel Morse was not born to be a communications revolutionary. Raised in a strict Calvinist household in Charlestown, Massachusetts, he initially pursued his passion as a painter, creating portraits of prominent Americans and grand historical scenes. His artistic training at Yale College and later in London shaped his meticulous eye for detail — a skill that would prove invaluable in his later scientific endeavors.

But tragedy has a way of redirecting our paths. In 1825, while Morse was painting a portrait in Washington, he received a letter telling him his wife was gravely ill. By the time he rushed home to New Haven, she had already died and been buried. The slow pace of communication in that era meant that the most important moments of our lives could slip away while we remained blissfully unaware. This personal anguish planted a seed in Morse’s mind: surely there had to be a faster way for people to share urgent news across great distances.

The inspiration struck him during a ship voyage back from Europe in 1832. Conversations about electromagnetism with fellow passengers sparked his imagination.

What if electricity could carry messages instantaneously across wires?
What if human thoughts could travel at the speed of lightning itself?

The Day That Changed Everything

That May morning in 1844 represented the culmination of over a decade of experimentation, frustration, and persistence. Morse had endured years of financial hardship, skeptical investors, and technical setbacks. Politicians questioned whether the government should fund such a seemingly frivolous invention. Even on the day of the demonstration, many observers remained doubtful.

Morse chose his inaugural message carefully. “What hath God wrought” came from Numbers 23:23 in the King James Bible, suggested by Annie Ellsworth, daughter of the Patent Commissioner. The phrase carries profound meaning — it speaks to divine wonder at human achievement, a recognition that we sometimes create things beyond our own understanding of their consequences.

The technical specifications were remarkably simple by today’s standards. Morse’s telegraph used an electromagnet to move a stylus that marked dots and dashes on a moving strip of paper. The famous Morse Code — combinations of short and long electrical pulses representing letters of the alphabet — allowed complex human language to be reduced to binary electrical signals. The Washington-Baltimore line stretched across wooden poles, carrying a single copper wire with the earth itself serving as the return circuit.

When that first official message crackled across the 40 miles of wire, it traveled at roughly 186,000 miles per second — the speed of light through the copper conductor. Compare this to the fastest previous method of long-distance communication: a horse and rider, covering perhaps 30 miles in a day over rough terrain.

The Fabric of Society Rewoven

The telegraph didn’t just speed up communication — it fundamentally altered the rhythm of human existence. Within a decade, telegraph lines were spreading across America like a spider’s web, connecting distant cities and remote towns to a shared nervous system of information.

Consider how this changed the simple act of conducting business. Before the telegraph, a merchant in New York who wanted to know grain prices in Chicago had to wait weeks for a letter. Decisions were made with old information, and fortunes were built on who could move physical information fastest. The telegraph democratized market information, creating the foundation for modern commodity exchanges and stock markets. Suddenly, prices could be coordinated across vast distances, creating truly national markets for the first time in human history.

The transformation went far deeper than commerce. Families separated by migration could maintain relationships in ways previously impossible. A mother in Boston could know within hours if her son in California was safe after an earthquake. Young people could court across state lines through romantic telegrams. The very notion of “long-distance relationships” was born.

Watercolor painting of railroad tracks and telegraph poles running through the desert

Perhaps most profoundly, the telegraph began to standardize time itself. Before instant communication, every town kept its own time based on the sun’s position. But railroad schedules coordinated by telegraph required synchronized clocks across entire regions. The concept of time zones — which we now take for granted — emerged directly from the telegraph’s need to coordinate activities across vast distances.

The Ripples Through Time

Standing here in 2025, we can trace direct lines from Morse’s first message to the device in your pocket. The telegraph established the first principles of electronic communication: encoding human language into electrical signals, transmitting those signals across distances, and decoding them back into meaning. Every text message, every email, every video call follows the fundamental pattern Samuel Morse established that May morning.

The telegraph also birthed the first global communication networks. By the 1860s, underwater cables connected America to Europe. News of Lincoln’s assassination reached London in days, not weeks. The world’s first “information superhighway” was built from copper wire and wooden poles, but it established the template for our modern internet.

More subtly, the telegraph began humanity’s complicated relationship with instant communication. The same technology that could save lives by quickly summoning doctors could also spread panic through false rumors. The same wires that connected distant lovers also enabled new forms of fraud and deception. We see these tensions playing out today in our debates about social media, digital privacy, and information verification.

Imagining the Alternative

What if Samuel Morse had remained focused solely on painting? What if Annie Ellsworth had suggested a different biblical verse, or no verse at all? What if congressional funding had been denied by just one vote?

Without the telegraph, the American Civil War might have unfolded differently. Lincoln’s ability to coordinate Union forces across vast distances proved crucial to victory. The transcontinental railroad, built with telegraph coordination, might have taken decades longer to complete. The settling of the American West would have proceeded more slowly and chaotically.

Globally, the British Empire‘s ability to govern distant colonies depended heavily on telegraph cables. Without instant communication to London, colonial independence movements might have succeeded earlier, or imperial control might have required even more brutal local enforcement.

Perhaps most intriguingly, our entire relationship with time and distance might have evolved differently. Would we have developed different social structures, different concepts of privacy, different expectations about response times and availability?

The Timeless Lesson

Samuel Morse’s legacy reminds us that individual human curiosity, persistence, and ingenuity can reshape the world in ways we never anticipate. He set out to solve a personal problem — the slow pace of communication that had cost him his final moments with his dying wife. Instead, he created the foundation for the connected world we inhabit today.

The next time your phone buzzes with a message from someone thousands of miles away, remember that May morning in 1844. Remember Samuel Morse tapping out “What hath God wrought” and marveling at the power of human innovation to compress time and space. In our age of instant global communication, we are all still living in the world that telegraph built, dot by dash by dot.

Back to you…

Think about how communication technology has affected your life. Your romances, your career path, your view of the world. Imagine a life that didn’t have instant access to loved ones. Maybe there’s a thread of your personal story that involves a digital connection. Connections made, connections broken, or miscommunication.

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Muneesh Jain Storytelling at The Moth in Traverse City

May 19, 2025/in Career, Emotions, Family, Identity, Relationships, The Moth/by Mark Lovett

You may remember Peter Aguero’s Moth story of how the simple suggestion of taking a pottery class altered his outlook on life. Different circumstances in this case, but Muneesh Jain’s Moth story told in Traverse City also happens to hinge on a moment in time that revised the trajectory his life was on.

But there’s always a backstory to such moments, and Muneesh talks about his parent’s expectations that he could never meet, no matter how hard he tried.

My parents are from India. So, in our house, that meant we had a high bar set for academic achievement, and a specific type of professional success: doctor, lawyer, engineer.

And he did try, to the point that his heath was at risk. But walking away from success resulted in his disconnecting from his family, as well as society itself. Rather than a short brief, Muneesh was out of sorts for five full years.

The delivery guy would just leave the food outside my apartment because I couldn’t even make eye contact with him. I was a failure.

And then… Something unexpected happens. Something that reignites is passion, and a lifelong dream. The journey he embarks upon connects him to new people in ways he couldn’t predict, and the process seems to resurrect him. (no spoilers here — you’ll have to hear his story to learn the details of his journey)

And I realized we weren’t really even talking about baseball anymore. We were talking about family connection.

While staying with friends in Seattle, a scene unfolds we can’t possibly expect.

The next day, I hear a knock at the door. Nobody’s home, so I walk upstairs and through the glass door, I see the silhouette of a 4 foot 10, 90 pound little woman. I open the door and just say, “What are you doing here, Mother?”

As the saying goes, “It’s never too late.” For Muneesh, the subtext is that it wasn’t too late to reconnect to his mother, and in doing so, come to understand her in a way that wasn’t possible while growing up.

Transcript

My parents are from India. So, in our house, that meant we had a high bar set for academic achievement, and a specific type of professional success: doctor, lawyer, engineer. By the time my sister was 12, she knew she was going to be a doctor, just like my dad.

When I was nine, I called a family meeting to let everyone know I was never going to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or an engineer. I was going to be a gymnast. My parents, they tolerated it, but told me that one day I was going to have to grow out of it. But I went to the gym six days a week, five hours a night. And by the time I was a teenager, I was training for the Olympics. Then multiple injuries ended my career. My folks, they said, “Alright, you got that out of your system. Now it’s time to focus on your education.”

I needed them to be impressed with me, the way they were my sister. I just, I couldn’t wrap my head around doing it their way. So I came up with a bigger idea. When I was 19, I got a job with ESPN. I was producing live segments for Sportscenter, ESPN news, hanging out with my sports idols. My folks, they kept reminding me, “Don’t let this get in the way of your schoolwork.”

Alright, fine. If that wasn’t good enough, I came up with a bigger idea. I left the network and moved to Detroit, Michigan, a city that I love, and I started a sports magazine. I sold ads, I found distributors, I built a staff with grown-ass people who had kids older than me. And we were killing it. We were up to 50,000 subscribers. People were recognizing me on the street. Hell, Muhammad Ali said he liked my magazine.

But every time I’d see my parents, they’d just ask me, “When are you going back to college? Get that degree.”

This time, there was no bigger idea. I had to make this work. I doubled down, worked twice as hard, which also meant that I pretty much stopped sleeping entirely and started drinking and drugging the nights away to manage my stress levels. And when I was 24, my doctor told me that I was six months away from a heart attack.

I either had to get rid of the magazine or die. So I gave up. And something broke inside of me. And I couldn’t face my parents. I took the money I’d saved from ESPN and the magazine, and I ran away. I moved to New York into a tiny 160-square-foot studio apartment where the windows didn’t even open, and it was there that my self-imposed exile began. Slowly losing contact with every human I’d ever met.

The delivery guy would just leave the food outside my apartment because I couldn’t even make eye contact with him. I was a failure.

My parents would call and I never knew what to say. My dad would lecture me that I wasn’t even a part of the family anymore. My mom would yell at me that I needed to get my life together. And every conversation just ended in tears. So I stopped answering their calls. Then they started sending me money to keep me alive, and I took it, and that made me hate myself so much more. And so I just stopped leaving my apartment entirely.

The TV would be on 24 hours a day. I wasn’t watching at all. I just needed flashing images and noise to block out the constant stream of shame, regret, self-loathing that was clanging around the inside of my skull.

And that became my life. Every day, all day, living in near isolation for five years.

One day, a baseball game just happened to be on. Now, I hadn’t watched a sporting event of any kind since the death of my magazine. It was always just too hard. But on this day, I was so broken, I just stared motionlessly at the screen in front of me. And within a couple of innings, something strange was happening. I felt myself sitting up in my bed, engaging with something outside of my own head. I was smiling. I mean, actually smiling, for the first time in five years.

By the time the game ended, I’d already ordered the MLB TV package and just started mainlining baseball. I was watching every game, reading every article, going back over the last five years to see everything that I’d missed. And in the middle of it all, I remembered a dream I had when I was six.

You know, “One day, I’m gonna see a baseball game at all 30 MLB stadiums.” It’s one of those silly things that a lot of baseball fans want to do, but few actually get a chance to do it. And the ones who do it, do it over the course of a lifetime, like a normal human person.

But in this moment, nobody even knew that I existed. I could disappear off the planet and no one would notice. So I said, “Screw it. I’m going to do it. And I’m gonna do it in one season.” I’m going to drive 17,000 miles in 95 days and go to a baseball game at all 30 ballparks. I started obsessively poring over maps and schedules, planning out my route.

Every time I’d go down to the bodega to buy another pack of cigarettes, instead, I would take that money out of the ATM, go back up to my apartment, shove it underneath my mattress. By the time the next baseball season came around, I’d saved $6,000 and quit smoking.

I was ready to go. I called my parents to let them know what I was doing, and they really didn’t know what to say. They were just happy that I was alive. And I hit the road. Every 48 hours I was in a new city. But I didn’t want to just sit in the ballpark alone. I needed a way to reintegrate myself into society. The problem was, I had completely forgotten how to even have a conversation with somebody else.

So I invented a podcast. I couldn’t have cared less if anybody actually listened to this thing. I just needed an excuse to go talk to strangers. And it was working. People were talking to me about the stats of their favorite ball players, the histories of their ballparks. One kid at Citi Field at a Mets game spent 20 minutes meticulously breaking down why it was that the Yankees sucked.

And I bounced from ballpark to ballpark. I noticed that my conversations, they were evolving. I talked to a father and son in Baltimore, where after our official interview, the father pulled me aside to quietly confide in me that he didn’t really have a relationship with his eldest son, but his youngest, his youngest loved baseball, so he knew that at least they’d be able to talk about that.

I talked to a mother and daughter in San Francisco who had been going to games together for 20 years. Three generations of women in Texas. The grandmother proudly shoving Little Laney, her nine-year-old granddaughter, in front of my microphone, saying, “Little Laney, tell the nice man what you do all your school reports on.” And Little Laney excitedly screams out, “The Texas Rangers!”

And I realized we weren’t really even talking about baseball anymore. We were talking about family connection.

By the time I got to LA, I’d already driven 8,000 miles on my own. I was halfway done with my tour. But this was my hell week, because the Angels and the Dodgers rarely play at home at the same time. I had to catch a game in Anaheim, drive 17 hours up to Seattle, turn back around, drive 17 hours back to LA, then 30 hours to Minnesota. That’s 4,000 miles in 10 days. But I was a man possessed, nothing was going to stop me.

After my Angels game, I hopped in the car and headed up north. But about halfway into the drive, my vision starts to get blurry and my body starts to uncontrollably shake. I pull over just in time to open the door and projectile vomit all over the side of the highway. I didn’t know what to do, so I called my dad. He just sighed into the phone and said, “You have food poisoning.” What am I supposed to do from here? “Gatorade and Pepto Bismol.”

My mom gets on the phone and starts screaming at me. This is ridiculous. You need to take better care of yourself and I hung up. I wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. I made it to Seattle in time for my game by double fisting Gatorade and Pepto Bismol. I was staying with some family friends so I knew they’d be able to take care of me.

The next day, I hear a knock at the door. Nobody’s home, so I walk upstairs and through the glass door, I see the silhouette of a 4 foot 10, 90 pound little woman. I open the door and just say, “What are you doing here, Mother?”

And she says, “I’m here to help you drive.” Now, she must have seen the panic on my face, because she followed that up with, “And I’ve been listening to your podcast. I know you don’t take bathroom or food breaks when you’re on the road, so I’m not going to take any breaks either. We’re going to stay on your schedule.” I didn’t know she was listening to the podcast.

And then she said one more thing. “I’m driving the whole way, so you’ve got two options. You sit next to me and you can sleep or we can talk.” Now, I honestly can’t remember the last time my mom and I had been in the same room together without it devolving into tears. So I said, “Okay, Mama.” I got in the car and I immediately went to sleep.

I slept the entire way to LA and when we got there, she said, “I’m not going to go to the baseball game with you.” I said, “Why not?” She said, “Because you’ve got work to do. And if people see you there with your mother, they’re not going to want to talk to you.” I said, “You’re being ridiculous, of course you’re going to come,” and I got her a ticket.

We’re at Dodger Stadium and I start interviewing the gentleman sitting next to me as I’d done at every ballpark before. My mom, she moves to the seat behind us to give us some space to chat. And after the interview is over, I can hear her talking to her new seatmate. And her new seatmate’s asking, “Wow, you must be a huge baseball fan to do this type of road trip.” And my mom just answers, “No. I really don’t like baseball. I like watching my son watch baseball.” I pretended like I didn’t hear that.

After the game was over, we’re walking back to the car and she stops me. She wants to show me a picture she had taken during the game. And I looked down on her phone and it’s actually, it’s a picture of me and the guy that I had been interviewing. And she just says, “Look. You’re smiling.”

I said, “When are you going home, Mama?” And she said, “No, no, no, no. I’m going to drive with you to Minnesota too.” This time, there was no panic on my face. I said, “Okay, we’re going to split the drive and let’s talk.”

As we made our way out east, I started talking to my mom the way that I had been talking to these strangers at the ballpark these last couple of months, asking her stories about her life. You know, this woman, she survived three wars between India and Pakistan. I didn’t know that.

She told me the story of how her and my dad’s arranged marriage came to be. I knew they were arranged, I just never knew how or why it happened. I don’t know why I never bothered to ask her that.

Right before we got to Minnesota, we made a quick pit stop in South Dakota at Mount Rushmore. And as we’re walking up to the monument, my mom peeled off to call my dad and I was eavesdropping and I could hear her say, “As immigrants to this country, we’d always wanted to see Mount Rushmore. We just never found a reason to make the trip. This is all so exciting. I can’t wait for you to be able to see… our son… is just so happy.”

Thank you.

Back to you…

As unique as the details of Muneesh’s story are, the themes are all too common. Expectations. Failure. Shame. And also being open to those times when a simple circumstance serves as inspiration to reclaim the life that’s been waiting for you. Yes, the first few steps require initiative, but success manifests when others are influential elements in your narrative.

If you have a story to tell of getting lost, then finding yourself, don’t forget the cast of characters that accompanied you on the road to recovery. With them, you would still be lost.

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If you’re ready to craft your own personal story, these resources will help make it more impactful!
Storytelling in Three Steps
Ten Fundamental Story Blocks
The Essential Literary Elements

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Learn more about the coaching process or
contact me to discuss your storytelling goals!

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The Moth – Live from New York – Give me Five – Stories of the Senses

May 5, 2025/in Art, Humanity, Humor, Life Lessons, The Moth/by Mark Lovett

Every episode of The Moth Radio Hour contains storytelling gold, and this one recorded in New York — Give me Five – Stories of the Senses — was a perfect example of diversity in storytelling. Give it a listen, and think about how each story was constructed, and how each scene was portrayed.

The Moth Storytellers:

Peter Aguero’s life takes an unexpected turn in a pottery class.
Tighisti Amahazion finds creature comfort during an escape with her family.
Julian Goldhagen gets trapped in a walk-in closet.
Bryan Kett gets a chance to see in color for the first time.

While I encourage you to hear them all, this article focuses on Peter Aguero.

Peter Aguero is quite the storyteller, with his rapid fire delivery that jumps from scene to scene, keeping the narrative, as well as audience interest, going along. Peter’s a masterful writer that offers up a combination of personal insights and humor. Check out this description of the woman he meets at the pottery studio. If there’s an unusual character in your story, think of how you can describe the essence of their appearance, both visually and metaphorically.

This woman comes up to me and she’s wearing mismatched six shades of pink somehow. And two different colored socks and sandals. It’s October. She looks like she’s been happily cutting her own hair for the last 50 years.

It’s one thing to describe how you feel, but in this exchange with his pottery teacher: “And the second rule is today we’re just going to have fun. And I tell him, I’m not so sure I remember how that even feels.” We’re left to consider Peter’s frame of mind, that he has forgotten what fun feels like. Sometimes meaning only requires a few words, and the audience empathizes with you.

So, what I realize then is now I can make anything. I can make anything for who I am today. I can make things to honor who I had been. I can make things for what is. And all I have to do is joyfully, mindfully, with intent and with compassion for myself, is to sit still and take a breath and make a move and the shape changes. And I take a breath and I make a move and the shape changes. And I take a breath and I make a move and the shape changes.

You’ll understand this ending once you hear his story, and you’ll see how he took the lesson he learned when working with the clay and applied it to his life. That’s the gift he’s handing to the audience. To take a breath, make a move, and watch the world change. But let’s take a step back for context.

I’m crying and it just feels terrible. The weight of the entire world feels like it’s on top of my shoulders, on top of my body, pressing me into this carpet.

In just this one sentence you can feel Peter’s pain. He’s not in a good place. And although he obviously wants relief, he doesn’t have a path to make that happen. And then comes a simple suggestion from his wife.

Sarah says to me, Peter, you need to take a pottery class.

This is the pivot point. The one sentence that opens up an entirely new world to Peter. A world where he finds himself and creates a path forward: take a breath, make a move, and watch the world change.

Whenever someone says, “I don’t have a story to tell.“, I begin to probe, ask a few questions, dig a little deeper into their life experiences. And sure enough, there comes a moment in the conversation when they tell me about a pivot in their life. A change that started with one sentence, thought, idea, etc. It could have come from a friend or a family member. Someone at work or school or church. Hell, it can come from watching the television or reading a book.

The point is, this happens to everyone, but too often we overlook the impact that such event have on our life. Think about your own life journey, and see whether something similar arises. An event, and a lesson learned that others could benefit from hearing. And if you already have your story idea in hand, while considering the events you plan to include in your narrative, try to be aware of any pivot points that are worth sharing.

Transcript (edited for readability)

So I’m sitting, laying face down on my living room floor, and the carpet is rough against my cheeks and all I want to do is just burrow underneath the carpet. I want to hide. I want to dig in a hole. I want to get my body, my soul, my everything underneath, to hide, to get away from everything. There’s bees in my head. It’s anxiety. My heart is beating. I’m crying and it just feels terrible. The weight of the entire world feels like it’s on top of my shoulders, on top of my body, pressing me into this carpet.

I am trying to write a new show. I had been working for 20 years hustling as an artist and what I’ve been working on lately is what I’ve been calling, autobiographical, first-person narrative, which is just a fancy way of saying, telling a story. And anytime you have a fancy way of doing something, it gets all messed up. So my wife, Sarah, is brushing my hair and she’s reading my tarot cards and she’s holding me like the Pieta, and I’m just trying to get through this moment.

I thought I was writing a comedy about myself. Turns out it was a psychological horror story, and it didn’t feel good. I had made the choice, the medium I was going to work in my life was generally going to be pain.

I found it to be true early on, that whenever I would talk about a time in my life where there was some kind of change or some growth, it never happened in a victory or out of joy. It was always in heartbreak or pain or misery or failure is where I would grow. And so, that’s how I would present my medium. That was what I was working, in the pain of my past and I was tired of it. I didn’t want to do it anymore. I just didn’t care. I didn’t care about myself or telling any more stories or doing anything and I’m just crying and it’s just about over and Sarah says to me, Peter, you need to take a pottery class.

And I’m 40 years old. I had never taken a pottery class. I had played with Play-Doh when I was a kid, probably. I went to Catholic school. We didn’t have the money for pottery classes. It was, okay babe, I kind of dismissed it. Thank you so much, but, you know, how’s that going to help anything? And then I spend the rest of the night trying to go to bed to end that day to get to the next one, which is the way it goes when you feel that way.

And at the end of the next day, Sarah says to me, have you registered for a pottery class yet? And I said, no, I haven’t. She says, I’m going to take a shower and by the time I get out of the shower, I want you registered for a pottery class. And I get on the computer and I start to look for a pottery studio near where we live in Queens and I’m looking around and I find this place called Brick House in Long Island City.

I’m like, I like the Commodores. So I register for a private lesson. And she comes out and she says, did you register? I said, yes, I did. I have a lesson in five days. I said, why can I ask you? Why a pottery class? She just looked at me. She said, I think it would be gentle and I think it might feel like a hug.

So five days later I’m in Long Island City and I walk into the ceramic studio, a place I’d never been in my life and I don’t understand what is going on. There are walls packed with shelves and things. There are tennis balls next to WD40 next to cornstarch next to yard sticks next to bundles of sticks, random buttons, all kinds of weird, just strange things.

The floor feels like it had been wet and dried and wet and dried and wet and dried to the point that now it feels like stale waffles underneath my feet. I’m looking around and feeling the clay dust. I can feel it gritting in my teeth. I can smell the earth in the air. I look around and everyone in the place is working with these balls of this brown clay.

This woman comes up to me and she’s wearing mismatched six shades of pink somehow. And two different colored socks and sandals. It’s October. She looks like she’s been happily cutting her own hair for the last 50 years. She says to me, are you here for Peter? I say, I am Peter, and this confuses her, and she says, my name is Liberty Valance. I said, what? And now I’m confused.

And then this guy, who looks if the Queensboro bridge had a troll, it would be this guy. And he’s got a red beard and he’s chuckling in the corner and I’m looking around like, oh, I get it, this is where the weirdos are. Okay.

So then Peter comes out. He’s the teacher and he looks like me-in-30-years. He’s a robust older gentleman with a halo of hair loosely tied in a ponytail, a big long gray beard that reaches the center of his chest. And he comes over to me with kindness in his eyes. He says, I’m Peter. I say, I’m Peter. And it doesn’t register any confusion with him.

And the kindness in his eyes runs deep and his hands look strong and he says, have you ever done this before? I said, no. He said, good. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to just teach you. There’s no grades. I’m not your first grade teacher. Don’t worry about it. And the second rule is today we’re just going to have fun. And I tell him, I’m not so sure I remember how that even feels.

And he just nods his head and says, come this way. So he walks me over to the pottery wheels and we sit down and he takes a ball of clay and he places it in my hand, and it’s both wet and somehow dry at the same time. It’s cold to the touch in my hand. It is about the size of a grapefruit. It’s heavy.

You know when they tell you when you go to the produce section to get produce that is a little heavier than it looks and you never understand what that means. This is what clay feels like in my hand and it’s earth. It’s the earth. And it’s in my hands, touching my skin. And Peter says, okay, the first thing we’re going to do is we’re going to center.

And I don’t know what that means. He turns on the wheel and the wheel starts going around and says, and he puts the clay in the center of the wheel and he says, you can’t center a little bit. You’re either centered or you’re not. And that’s blowing my mind and he shows me how to use my body, how to brace my arm up against my ribs and to make my hands into the shape of a tool and I would hold my hands over the clay and not let the clay…

He says, don’t let the clay, he’s got this voice, it sounds like if you drizzled honey over some soft summer thunder. And he’s telling me, okay, so you’re going to adjust, it’ll just be, and then it’ll be centered. He says, you’re going to learn how to do this, you’re going to forget it, and then it’s okay because I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

So I breathe out and I brace my arm and the clay wobbles and wobbles and wobbles and wobbles and all of a sudden it doesn’t. It’s still and it’s spinning. I raise my hands and it’s spinning so fast but it’s not moving at all. It looks like it’s completely still and he says, there you go, you’re centered.

And then he tells me, okay, you’re gonna wet your hands and then you’re gonna drop your first hole, and you take your fingers and you put it in the center of the dome of clay and you drop your hole and you open the clay. And it opens so quickly. I take to it like a duck to water. It feels so satisfying, like when you’re cutting wrapping paper and the scissors just slide up the wrapping paper. It feels like that.

And he tells me okay, now he shows me how to lift, and he shows me what to do, and all of a sudden this lump of clay went from being nothing to a cup that turns into a bowl, that turns into an object that exists in the whole world. And all of the art I’ve been making has been ephemeral, just performance and it disappears.

And this is now a thing that actually exists. And he cuts it off and he puts it to the side and he puts another ball of clay and I center it again and he tells me that all I got to do now is just make sure that I breathe. He says that’s the most important thing. He says, you’re going to touch the clay gently, you’re going to take your hands off the clay gently and in between every move you’re going to breathe. And then that piece starts to wobble a little bit and all I have to do is cut it off and get another piece of clay. I can just start over. There’s no stakes. It just feels good.

As Peter is telling me and we go through about four, four different balls of clay. He tells me, uh, all these things again, these steps over and over because I learn them and I forget them, but he’s there. But what I hear is the subtext of what he’s actually saying to me, which is, you take a breath, you make a move, and the shape changes.

The hour goes by like that and I stand up and I tell him, I say Peter, thank you so much. I’ve been depleted. I needed that so bad. My battery has been empty and I just have not been feeling good. And he gives me a hug, because me-in-30-years is a good hugger. And then, as he hugs me, he tells me he’s proud of me.

So I start to cry. And, me-in-30-years, is a great crier too, and we’re just holding each other and crying and the bridge troll and the pink lady are just laughing. Everybody’s having a wonderful time and I leave the studio, I wave goodbye to the island of broken toys and I go home and I get back to my apartment and I sit on the couch and, Sarah says, how was it? And she tells me later that in this very small voice from my very big body, I just gently say, I loved it. I can’t believe somebody lets me do this. And she nodded her head and she said, okay, I want you to go sign up for a weekly class. So I did.

About two weeks later I show up for my Thursday 10:00 AM weekly class. I go in there and I walk directly to the wheels and on the wheel that’s supposed to be mine is a pile of brand new tools, some wooden carving sticks, a wooden knife, a wire, a sponge.

There’s also this blue bowl, rudimentary, kind of thick walled blue bowl. And I pick it up and on the underside of it, it’s carved Peter underneath. Teacher Peter had fired it, glazed it and fired it for me and left it on my wheel. And I pick it up and the glaze is cool in my hand and it’s very smooth like glass and it feels perfect in my hands because my hands were the things that made this and the grooves are the grooves of my fingers in the surface of the clay. And this object is now part of the world and I made it. It was the earth and I shaped it and inside the way the glaze melted is the universe.

And I put it to the side and I get another ball of clay and I sit down and I start to center. And I look all around me and I can see all the people working everywhere and and and everyone here is taking these, uh, balls of clay or slabs of clay or or pieces of clay and they’re turning into something and it’s coming from a place inside their soul that is supported and beautiful and joyful.

So, what I realize then is now I can make anything. I can make anything for who I am today. I can make things to honor who I had been. I can make things for what is. And all I have to do is joyfully, mindfully, with intent and with compassion for myself, is to sit still and take a breath and make a move and the shape changes. And I take a breath and I make a move and the shape changes. And I take a breath and I make a move and the shape changes.

Thank you.

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Molly Kendall at The Moth NYC StorySLAM

April 21, 2025/in Humor, Life Lessons, The Moth, Vulnerability/by Mark Lovett

Personal stories come in a variety of flavors, from happy to sad, and clueless to insightful, but some fall into a category that I call wild/crazy/funny. For example, we’ve all heard stories that evoked the response, “And what were you thinking?” For me, the tale that Molly Kendall shared at The Moth NYC StorySLAM back in 2016 was one such story.

It’s just six and a half minutes, yet it brought out a number of universal themes that all of us can relate to. Give it a watch, then think about the many facets of being human that were highlighted. Then consider how those themes relate to some of your experiences, and whether they can be woven into your story.

Here were some insights that I came away with. The point is that when crafting a personal story, you should put yourself in the shoes of the audience as a way to feel how they might react to the story. So even when an experience is unique to you, the underlying themes should be universal so that the audience can reflect upon their own journey.

The Themes That Resonated With Me

Impulsivity vs. Consequence: Stemming from impulsive and seemingly bold decision, the result was a cascade of awkward, unforeseen consequences.
Vulnerability (Literal and Figurative): Molly is literally vulnerable under the coat — a physical representation — and that reality translates into emotional vulnerability and embarrassment as the story unfolds.
Loss of Nerve/Confidence: The initial “blast of courage” quickly dissipates, replaced by panic, regret, and an inability to act or explain herself. She puts herself into an impossible situation.
Social Awkwardness and Embarrassment: The humor stems from the excruciatingly awkward situations — the bus ride, the scene at the restaurant, the inability to take off the coat. We feel for her and wonder what we would do in that situation.
Finding Connection Despite Chaos: Despite the bizarre and mortifying date, their relationship survived and flourished, which suggests that connections can happen even amidst absurdity. There is hope, even in the worst of situations.

Transcript

About 12 years ago, I moved to New York City, and to this day, I do not know why I did that. But it was an adventure, and to support my adventure, I had to work two, three, however many jobs, running here to there, trying to find my feet on this pulsing, frenetic city.

Um, within the beginning of the time that I was here, I met this man named John. And being a product of someone who was born and raised here, he had a very calm spirit within this craziness that I felt. Um, so he and I started to see each other.

One winter night, he invited me over. Of course, I’m going to go. And so I opened my closet of really tired, old-looking clothes, and I think with this like blast of courage and insanity… Screw it. I’m not going to wear any of these. I’m just going to wear my snow boots – it’s the middle of winter – my snow boots, and I grabbed my old Navy all-weather, camel-colored trench coat. And I threw that on. And I’m like, “Yes! Every man’s dream!”

And I jumped on the M14D bus. And it was empty. And I realized, looking at this empty bus full of empty seats, I cannot sit down. The coat isn’t long enough. And… I’m just going to hold this pole and hope that like this trip goes really quickly.

So I get to his house, and he buzzes me up, and I go up. And I’m thinking, like on the bus, I had lost like all of my courage. And I thought, like, what am I doing? What am I doing? I am not this kind of person. Whatever that means. I’m not. This is not who I am.

And I get to his apartment, and I open his door, and he’s fully clothed, winter jacket on, and he’s lacing up his boots. And he’s like, “You know what? I’m so hungry. Let’s go out to dinner.” And I said, “No, I’m not hungry.” And he said, “Okay, just like, just pizza.” And I was like, “I hate pizza. No.” And he said, “Sushi.” And I was like, “No, I don’t…” And I just couldn’t tell him, like, I just couldn’t tell him what I had done because I was not… I didn’t know what I had done!

And he’s like, “All right, you know what? Bruno…” this, this bartender at the steakhouse where we often went to. He’s like, “Bruno’s at the bar at Strip House. We’re just going to go there. Don’t worry about it. We’re going to have lamb chops.” He knew, like, the secret to my heart was lamb chops. And he said, “Let’s go there.” And I thought, “Oh my god, every time I say no, it gets like worse! Like, pizza to sushi to steak! Like, now it’s going to be forever, and I’m naked!” And… “Okay, let’s go. Let’s just, let’s just go.”

And so we go to Strip House and like, it’s the middle of winter, so the beautiful, lovely, sweet coat check lady is like, “Oh, can I take your coat?” And I was like, “No.” Oh, okay. So we go… Bruno sees us at the bar, and he’s like, “Oh, John, Molly, hey, come on, sit down here, I have your places for you. Molly, take off that stupid coat! It looks like you’re ready to run away!”

And I was like, “Oh my god, if you only knew!” And I thought, “Before, before I sit down, like, this is my chance, this is my chance, I’m just gonna tell him and we’re gonna go. Like, I have to get this over with!” But I couldn’t because I was just too embarrassed. Like, what have I done?

And so we sat down. And Bruno said, “What would you like to drink?” And I was like, “What would get me drunk the fastest so I have the courage to tell him?” And I said, “A martini.” Boom, he makes the martini. It’s down. Gone. And then he’s like, “Wow, okay, would you like something else?” “Yeah, just another martini, another martini. Like, I need to think, I need to think.”

And he makes the martini, and in like the haze of somewhere else, I hear John ordering like three or four courses of something or something. And there’s like a seafood tower involved, and like lamb chops, and truffled creamed spinach, and like amazingness. But I was just trying to think, like, how do I get out of this? How do I tell him? And I just, I can’t get my courage back. The courage that told me like, “Just go naked!” Like, that courage was gone.

And so Bruno’s like, “No, seriously, like, take off your jacket.” And I was like, “You know what? I caught a chill outside. Like, it’s cool, like, I’m fine.” And then, like, to help me, Bruno decided to like turn up the heat in the bar. Oh my god! No, seriously! Okay. So he turned up the heat of the bar. I’m sitting at the bar, there’s like sweat dripping down my face, down into my like old Navy camel-colored all-weather trench coat.

And I just didn’t know what to do. And the lamb chops come out, and I want the lamb chops! And I still don’t have the courage to say it. And finally, John’s like, “Do you want to start with steak or lamb?” And I was like, “You’re talking about steak, and I’m naked! I’m naked! The polyester is now sticking to my body!” And… “We just, we just have to get out of here because I’m naked!”

And he looked at me, and he’s like, “We gotta wrap it up.”

And okay, I know I’m over time, but I have to tell you guys that that was like 11, 12 years ago, whatever. Present day, we now have a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter. And I look at her, and she’s like this demon, like from the moment that she was born, she’s this like tornado in a tiny little thing.

And I look at her, and I think, like, “How do I help mold you into the person you’re supposed to be?” And I realized that when I was saying, like, “I am not this person,” that we don’t have control over who we are and what we’re supposed to be. And least of all, we don’t have control over our kids. But we can be more than we ever imagined.

Thank you.

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If you’re ready to craft your own personal story, these resources will help make it more impactful!
Storytelling in Three Steps
Ten Fundamental Story Blocks
The Essential Literary Elements

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Shahram Izadi: The Next Computer? Your Glasses @ TED 2025

April 18, 2025/in AI, Artificial Intelligence, Technology, TED Talk/by Mark Lovett

Now that the 2025 version of the TED Conference has concluded, I’ll be posting a series of articles that will highlight some of the best talks. And their new tagline, “Ideas Change Everything”, inspired me to come up with a similar phrase, which is, “Personal Stories Change Everything”, so watch these talks through a lens of improving your own storytelling prowess.

In this talk from Shahram Izadi, titled, The Next Computer? Your Glasses, we get a glimpse into a future technology that brings the power of AI into our daily lives by way of eye-ware. Adopting the metaphor of seeing the world anew, this demo exceeded my expectations, and it had me wondering how our view of the world might change in the coming years.

Shahram Izadi is a British-Iranian computer scientist known for his contributions in extended reality, augmented reality, computer vision, human-computer interaction and artificial intelligence. ~ Wikipedia

Are you ready for this technology upgrade? And what if everyone were wearing these glasses? If the purpose is simply to provide information, it wouldn’t seem to be problem, but what if these glasses came with face recognition capability? Maybe there will be security protocols in place to prevent that, but anyone with the technological prowess could (I imagine) bypass such limitations.

It’s interesting to ponder how all our experiences, and thus our personal stories, could be transformed by the wave of AI technology that is soon coming our way. Our smartphones are becoming AI aware already. So they can perform tasks for us, which is cool, but every interaction will be tracked by the applications we’re using. Are you okay with that? I’m on the fence at the moment.

If you enjoyed this article…

Transcript

Shahram Izadi: For our entire lives, we’ve been living for a computing revolution. Many of you here in this room have contributed to it, with leaps forward in compute, connectivity, mobile technologies, and now AI. For my part, I’ve dedicated my entire career to augmented reality, fusing the real world with computing experiences.

I started this journey about 25 years ago for my PhD. It might sound groundbreaking, but check out these early prototypes. The technology was really primitive back then, but the potential felt limitless when we were experimenting in that university lab.

What I didn’t know at that time was that many of the fundamental innovations for my work would come from AI researchers in a different lab. While I was helping computers see the world, these AI researchers were helping computers reason about the world.

Since then, large language models and multimodal reasoning have enabled richer language and image understanding. These models are now fast enough for live conversations where the AI can act on your behalf and, most importantly, with your permission.

And augmented reality and virtual reality has moved computing from the rectangular screen to the 360 immersive display to now even the world itself becoming the display. We now refer to this broad collection of experiences as extended reality or XR.

Until now, these innovations have occurred separately and in silos. Well here comes act two of the computing revolution. AI and XR are converging, unlocking radical new ways to interact with technology on your terms.

Computers will become more lightweight and personal. They will share your vantage point, understand your real-world context and have a natural interface that’s both simple and conversational.

Countless people and companies are innovating in this space, including many on the TED stage this week. We’re excited to contribute to this momentum with Android XR. It’s an operating system we’re building with Samsung that brings XR hardware together with Gemini, our AI assistant, to augment human intelligence.

It can support a broad range of devices, from headsets to glasses to form factors we haven’t even dreamed of yet. OK, let me show you where we’re heading by inviting my colleague Nishtha to the stage. Welcome, Nishtha.

(Applause)

Nishtha Bhatia: Hi.

SI: These ordinary-looking glasses are packed full of technology. A miniaturized camera and microphones give the AI the ability to see and hear the world. Speakers let you listen to the AI and play music or even take calls. And these glasses also have a tiny, high-resolution in-lens display that’s full color that I’m holding in my hand. It’s very, very small.

These glasses work with your phone streaming back and forth, allowing the glasses to be very lightweight and access all your phone apps. And if you’re wondering, I’m actually wearing the glasses too. They’re actually helping me see all of you in the audience because they have prescription lenses inside them. But they’re also displaying my speaker notes for me as well.

(Laughter)

For this demo, you’ll see what Nishtha is seeing on the screen behind her. And this is the very first time we’re showing these glasses in public. So this is going to be a live demo of conceptual hardware, early software. What could go wrong? Nishtha, best of luck. No pressure.

NB: Amazing. Alright, let’s just make sure that these glasses are shown on the screen behind us. OK.

[Glasses screen off]

Awesome.

(Applause)

NB: Now I’m going to launch Gemini.

Gemini: Hello there.

NB: Hi, Gemini. Can you start us off with something fun and creative, and write a haiku for what I’m seeing right now?

G: Sure. Faces all aglow. Eager minds await the words. Sparks of thought ignite.

SI: Some anxious but happy faces as well, yeah. As you can see, the AI sees what Nishtha sees, hears what she hears and is responding in real time. But that’s just table stakes. I think everyone in this audience has seen demos like this before. Let’s actually step it up a notch with something we call Memory. For a rolling contextual window, the AI remembers what you see without having to be told what to keep track of.

NB: So you guys may have noticed I snuck a peek back at the shelf a moment ago.
I wasn’t paying attention, but let’s see if Gemini was. Hey, did you happen to catch the title of the white book that was on the shelf behind me?

G: The white book is “Atomic Habits” by James Clear.

NB: That is absolutely right. So let’s try something harder. I keep losing my hotel key card. Do you know where I last left the card?

G: The hotel key card is to the right of the music record.

NB: Great.

SI: For someone as forgetful as me, that’s a killer app. OK, this AI is inherently multimodal. So it’s using visual data and natural language to digest complex queries in real time while remembering your past context. Nishtha, let’s see some more.

NB: Yeah, let’s bring this book back. So I don’t really have time to read it right now. But I wonder if Gemini might be able to help me summarize what’s going on. Like, I don’t know. What does this diagram mean? It looks complex.

G: This diagram is labeled “The Habit Line” and illustrates the process of habit formation. It shows how automaticity increases with repetitions until a habit is formed.

NB: OK.

SI: Now imagine being able to communicate and understand any language. The AI can shift its output to speak different languages with dialects and accents that feel human and natural.

NB: Yeah, let’s go to this sign over here. Can you translate this to English for me?

G: The sign states: “Private property, no trespassing.”

SI: OK, let’s prove this is a live demo. Does anyone in the audience have a suggestion for a different language to translate to?

Audience: Farsi.

SI: Farsi. We tried Farsi, it failed last time, but let’s try it again.

NB: Do you want to try Farsi?

SI: Because I do speak Farsi. It’s my mother tongue, so thank you.

NB: Gemini, let’s just give this a shot. Can you translate this sign to Farsi for us?

G: (Speaking Farsi)

SI: Great, awesome. It speaks Farsi.

NB: That’s amazing. So, as Shahram mentioned, you all may have seen translation demos like this before, but what’s new now is that in addition to just saying things in a different language, I can also speak to Gemini in another language. I know Hindi, so let’s give this a shot.

(Speaks Hindi)

G: (Speaks Hindi)

NB: So Gemini said you all look focused and excited, and it has a better accent than I do.

(Laughter)

SI: Alright, now let’s see how the AI can connect the physical world with your digital content and take action.

NB: Yeah, let’s get some music going in here. OK, Gemini, why don’t you play us a track from this record?

GB: Sure, here’s “Bad Dreams” by Teddy Swims.

(Music)

SI: Perfect. In a few seconds, the AI recognized the album, looked up the tracklist and took action using the phone apps. OK, Nishtha, it does look like the demo gods are with us. Maybe with you more than me. Let’s do one last demo I know you’re keen to give.

NB: Yes, this is my first time in Vancouver, and I love going on walks. So why don’t you navigate me to a park nearby with views of the ocean?

G: OK, I am starting navigation to Lighthouse Park, which has magnificent views of the Pacific Ocean. Is there anything else I can assist you with?

NB: Honestly, with these directions and a 3D map, I should be all set, and hopefully I won’t look like a tourist. Thank you all.

(Applause)

SI: Thank you, Nishtha, that was awesome. OK, we’ve seen glasses. Now let’s turn our attention to the other side of the spectrum: headsets. You’ve seen these types of devices before, but when we first brought AI to a headset, it completely caught me by surprise.

For this demo, we’re going to use the Project Moohan headset that Samsung is launching later this year. Compared to glasses, headsets give you an infinite display for getting work done or immersing yourself in a movie, or maybe a TED Talk at some point. Let me bring up my colleague Max to show us even more. Hey, Max.

Max Spear: Hello.

(Applause)

SI: And the same thing is going to go here. You’ll see exactly what Max is seeing behind on the screen. Go for it, Max.

MS: Let’s do it. You’ll notice we start grounded in the real world. And I’m going to control the entire system with my eyes, hands and voice. But where things get really interesting is when we invite Gemini in as this conversational companion that can come with us anywhere.

G: Hello.

MS: Hey, Gemini, can you bring up my trip planner for me, please?

G: Of course. Opening up your trip planner.

MS: Cool, but I left these windows really disorganized. Can you help with that?

G: Of course I can help with that.

SI: No clicks, no keyboards. It’s just a conversation. And the AI is taking action. OK, some more audience participation. Someone shout out a name of a place you want to visit.

Audience: Melbourne.
Audience: Cape Town.

SI: Let’s go to Cape Town.

Max: OK, sounds fun. Can you please take me to Cape Town?

G: Certainly. Let me help with organizing the windows.

SI (Laughs)

MS: Awesome. And can you also take me to Cape Town?

(Laughter)

G: I can certainly do that. Let me take you to Cape Town.

MS: And we’re very organized as we go there, perfect.

SI: As you can see, the AI is taking Max’s requests, figuring out how best to answer it, opening up the Maps app. And from there, he can actually explore anywhere in the world in this 3D view.

MS: OK, this is pretty incredible. Viewing the world from this angle, I can even zoom in to city levels. But what’s really interesting is having an AI here who can see what I see. Can you tell me more about the significance of this place?

G: I can indeed provide information about Table Mountain. Table Mountain holds a profound significance, deeply rooted in both its natural splendor and its rich cultural history. It has long been a spiritual and cultural symbol for the Indigenous Khoekhoe and San people.

MS: OK, very good, Gemini. I’ll come back to this later. It also does look like a table, that’s handy.

SI: OK, Max, let’s bring this closer to home. How about exploring winter sports, seeing that we’re in Vancouver.

MS: OK, let’s get some inspiration for Shahram. Can you please show me 360 videos of this?

[Powder snowboarding]

G: Sure, here are some 360-degree powder snowboarding videos.

MS: OK, I’m kind of new to snowboarding, so hopefully this video will help me learn. Although this looks already way more intense than I think I’m ready for. What was the name of that trick?

G: That’s a backside 540 with a grab.

SI: The AI knows exactly what Max is looking at, even in rich video content, and can answer any question in real-time. Max, are you sure this is Whistler?

MS: You know, Shahram, I actually have no idea. I’ve never been here before, but let’s find out. What run do you think this is?

G: It’s probably one of the ungroomed runs in summit bowl or the top section of West Ridge on Mount Bachelor, as they are close to the summit and face north towards Three Sisters and Broken Top, the prominent mountains visible in the background.

MS: OK, Mount Bachelor, Oregon, got it.

SI: OK, let’s have a little bit of fun now. Let’s have AI narrate this video. Somebody in the audience, shout out a fun narration style like, nature documentary or something like that.

Audience: Morgan Freeman.

SI: We can’t do actors, but we’ll get to that at some point. Any other suggestions?

Audience: Movie trailer.
Audience: Horror movie.

SI: Horror movie. That’s going to be — it might be gory, but let’s go for it.

MS: Slightly dark, but let’s do it. Can you please describe what you’re seeing as if you’re an overly enthusiastic character in a horror movie?

G: Oh, darling, this is simply marvelous. A desolate mountain scape. How delightfully ominous. Prepare for a chilling dance with the unknown. Where every gust of wind whispers tales of icy terror and lurking shadows.

MS: OK, Gemini, that’s great. Return to more positive things another day.

SI: OK, Max, I know there’s one last demo, and you’ve been apparently practicing your farming skills?

MS: Yes, Shahram, I’ve been excited to get back to my rural roots and also embrace one of my favorite things, which is playing games. But it becomes a whole new, next-level experience when you have an AI by your side, both to help keep you company as you play, but also to help you learn how to play these kinds of games in the first place. So, for example, what do you think I should do next here?

G: It looks like this is early in the game in “Stardew Valley.” You need to earn money, so try planting some seeds. First, use your hoe to till the soil, and then plant your seeds. It looks like you have some parsnips. Since it isn’t raining, you’ll also need to water them with your watering can.

MS: Seems like a lot, and maybe robots will do this for us one day, but for now, I’m going to have to return back to my farm later. For one last thing, can you please give a playful two-sentence summary of all the ground we covered today?

G: We soared from organizing a digital realm to traversing snowy mountains, and even found time to farm some virtual parsnips. Quite the adventure today.

MS: Quite the adventure, indeed. Thanks, Gemini.

(Applause)

SI: Fantastic, thank you Max. We’re entering an exciting new phase of the computing revolution. Headsets and glasses are just the beginning. All this points to a single vision of the future, a world where helpful AI will converge with lightweight XR. XR devices will become increasingly more wearable, giving us instant access to information.

While AI is going to become more contextually aware, more conversational, more personalized, working with us on our terms and in our language. We’re no longer augmenting our reality, but rather augmenting our intelligence.

Thank you so much.

My Concluding Thoughts

In my experience, most of the personal stories I’ve encounter live in the analog world. Yes, the internet plays a role from time to time — social media & dating apps, etc. — but it’s more of a sideline.

AI, however, is a different sort of digital beast. One that is increasingly infiltrating every corner of our daily endeavors. And I’m wondering how that will change our perception. If this TED Talk is an indicator of future trends, the shift could be big.

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