TED 2009 – Snow Globes
I love snow globes, yet I have none physically. However, the concept of the snow globe appeals to me greatly and it is how I think of my thoughts in the past. Perfect moments trapped in time that I can shake up and relive at any moment. I have a very visual mind and someday I’ll put together a series of images and videos (snow globes) to show the world what Cyan thought looks like, but for now, think of it as millions of snow globes playing through pictures, sounds and video reels.
At TED, one of the most beautiful and wonderful snow globes was formed in my head and I’m having fun shaking it up every now and then. It is quite possibly one of the most extraordinary moments I’ve experienced in my life.
I had just finished dinner and headed back to the Westin hotel with a new awesome friend I had made. My intention was to get my car and head out to see some pals that had arrived from San Diego and then go to my hotel, but something special and profound stopped me, pulled me in and I couldn’t leave.
One of the musical performers at TED, Eric Lewis, was playing songs on the lobby piano and he was surrounded by nearly 60 people sitting in a crescent moon formation. I got a drink and headed over with @pud to claim our spot on the moon to take it all in.
We were digging the music something fierce and we were getting into the audio landscape he was paving before us, when suddenly something jarring happened. A tapping noise appeared. At first, I thought someone was banging on the floor with an object of some sort. I was annoyed. Everyone around me was annoyed and agitated. We wanted the tapping to stop because it was pulling us away from being focused on Eric’s blanket of sound that drew us to the moon. The tapping knocked us off one by one.
Eventually, we figured out where the tapping was coming from. A tap dancer stood up and started tapping as if her life depended on it. The expression on her face led me to believe it was imperative that she dance. She needed to get it out. She danced and danced and then the room divided. Half of the room cheered her on and the other half murmured in secret that they wished she’d get physically removed or would get the hint that many of us just wanted to enjoy hearing Eric play. She persisted and danced on. Eric didn’t seem to mind. He never stopped playing. As a matter of fact, she requested that he start playing ragtime music and he honored the request and she tapped on. The back of the room was getting shifty at this point. Where was this going? When would she stop? When would we feel complete that we had seen a musical genius perform in front of us and remember that moment forever. When would she stop staining this moment for us?
With every finished song, half the room cheered. The other half wondered who would last longer, the tap dancer or Eric. The crowd was nearly 200 people at this point. As Eric led her into another song, something incredible happened. A professional rodeo star stood up with his lasso. Yes, his lasso. He started to dance with it. He had performed on stage at TED earlier in the day and apparently still had his lassos on hand, so he went to town. She tapped on and he lassoed on, as if their lives depended on it.
As Eric finished up another song, the crowd rose to their feet and clapped for an encore. Suddenly everyone was dancing, tapping and standing on chairs. The crowd was ecstatic. A conga line formed. Lighters came out of pockets and the Westin was transformed into the perfect snow globe of memory one will never forget. I certainly never will. I was transformed in that moment and it wasn’t because of Eric, the most wonderful piano player, it was because of the tap dancer.
You see, when change happens, it is uncomfortable. You resist it. It is jarring like a tap dancer who’s life is on the line, but if you give into it, you’ll find yourself in a conga line with high on life feelings you’ve never experienced because someone was brave enough to do something different and take risks. She took a risk and it was uncomfortable, but she transformed the room into an entirely different experience that was shared by all.
If the half of the room got their wish for her to sit down and be silenced, I’m placing bets that conga lines would not have formed and the place would not have erupted in dance. I’m guessing we’d all go home with the memory that we saw a great musician play the piano and that would have been it. Which is nice, but this moment transcended that.
So, I’m thankful for the tap dancer. She changed my life. She made me recognize that discomfort for what it is and learn how to embrace it, because sometimes discomfort leads truly amazing snow globes and perfect moments captured in time.
