TED Talks Daily - To love is to be brave | Kelly Corrigan

Episode Date: June 18, 2024

Family life often requires extraordinary bravery, from navigating the daily challenges to surviving the unexpected crises. Author and podcaster Kelly Corrigan offers profound wisdom (and seven key words) to help you focus in on what matters most.

TED Audio Collective like in our lives. In her TED 2024 talk, writer and podcaster Kelly Corrigan shares what she has learned about bravery, whether it's when she's sailing the high seas or during the smaller, scarier moments of family life. After the break, how all of us can be more brave by being still. Support for this show comes from Airbnb. If you know me, you know I love staying in Airbnbs when I travel. They make my family feel most at home when we're away from home. As we settled down at our Airbnb during a recent vacation to Palm Springs, I pictured my own home sitting empty. Wouldn't it be smart and better put to use welcoming a family like mine by hosting it on Airbnb?

It feels like the practical thing to do. And with the extra income, I could save up for renovations to make the space even more inviting for ourselves and for future guests. Your home might be worth more than you think. Find out how much at Airbnb.ca slash host. AI keeping you up at night? Wondering what it means for your business? Don't miss the latest Thank you. bold questions like why is Canada lagging in AI adoption and how to catch up. Don't get left behind. Listen to Disruptors, the innovation era, and stay ahead of the game in this fast-changing world. Follow Disruptors on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your favorite podcast platform. And now our TED Talk of the day.

This is for my mom, even though when I called her to say, hey, have you heard of TED, T-E-D, she said, oh my God, Kelly, it's not another virus, is it? As a 21-year-old, I was drawn to the word brave. I had a soft spot for ripping yarns and the people who could tell them. So, odyssey on the brain, I went out adventure collecting. Without knowing how to spell starboard or which side it referred to, I got on a 46-foot boat, and I sailed from Malta to Tunisia to Sicily. I traveled 11,000 miles over 13 months to seven different countries

without a plan or a phone or a credit card. Just $3,800 in traveler's checks, which, if you're under 30, it was like a little booklet of perforated... I don't know. And some expired antibiotics my mom made me bring. And then, running out of money, I landed as a nanny for two kids, four and seven,

who had just lost their mom. I moved into their house so I could cover things. On the three days a week, their dad worked as a flight attendant for Qantas. I smeared sunblock on their noses and Vegemite on their toasts. I read them to sleep at night. I cleaned the counters. The heavy lifting was left for the truly brave, a man who organized his emotions

and answered the hardest questions such that his kids and hers could feel a modicum of safety in a patently unsafe world. Questions like, what is cremation? And what happens to us if you die? And so it is that I stood witness to the unphotographable, unmeasurable bravery of some guy named Jim in Sydney, Australia. And over the years since, I find I just can't stop cataloging these Olympic achievements in family life. The really big things often come with a game plan and a team of experts and enough adrenaline to lift a school bus over your head.

But inside every crisis you think you might be ready for are a hundred dirty surprises that are not in the playbook. I had stage three cancer in my 30s, and I can tell you that following the chemo schedule didn't take nearly as much courage as admitting to my husband that sex felt less sexy after my boobs, which were once a real strong suit for me. We're made weird and uneven by a surgeon's knife. Here's a surprise. My friend's father, in his final days, addled by dementia,

chased her around the second floor with a fork he hid in his pajamas. They tell you there will be loss. They don't tell you you will be required to love your dad even as he's coming for you with silverware. I've interviewed 228 people from my PBS show and my podcast, people with huge careers, Grammys and Pulitzers and NBA championships. And I listen to their stories, and I'm duly impressed. But I tell you the ones they know the best,

the ones they can't tell without choking up. The moment when Bryan Stevenson's grandmother, or Steve Kerr's father, or Samantha Power's stepfather, or Cecile Richards' mom, was right there with the right words, or the right silence, at the right moment. This bravery I'm talking about might even be better understood if you look at the smaller moments of injury in family

life, when there's not really an answer, or it might be your fault, or it might remind you of something you'd rather forget, or because people are so suggestible, and the wrong tone or expression or phrasing might somehow make things worse. Say your kid was dropped from a group text. They were in it, they mattered, they belonged, and then poof. Or your husband blew the big deal at work, or your mom won't wear the diapers that would really help her get through Mahjong on Wednesdays. And how should we calibrate the exquisite bravery to respond productively when someone in our family looks at us and says, do I know you? I weigh myself before and after every meal. I hear voices. I steal. I'm using again. He raped me. She says I raped her.

I cut myself. I bought a gun. I stopped taking the medication. I can't stop making online bets. Sometimes I wonder if more life is really worth all this effort. Bravery is the great guts to move closer to the wound as composed as a war nurse holding eye contact and saying these seven words, tell me more, what else, go on.

That's how the brave shine, that's all they do. They say, tell me more, what else, go on. Even if they're scared of what might happen next, even if they have no training or experience to prepare them for this moment, even if it's late and they have an early flight. Here's two things the brave don't do. They don't take over and become the hero. Like it's a battle and the moves are so obvious, you just pick up a weapon with your ripped pecs and ropey veins and start slaying. In families, bravery is mostly just sitting there

with a posture that communicates, I can hear anything you want to tell me, and a nice, warm face of love that says, this is so hard, but you will figure it out. Personally, I thought love meant action. I had no idea it could be so still. When things get hairy for one of my people, everything in me wants to grab a clipboard, make a to-do list, and start calendaring appointments. Because where there's love, there's attachment.

And I don't care what the gurus say. What's happening to them is also happening, at least at some level, to us. And all that can accidentally put us center stage, no longer the coach or the minister, but rather one of the afflicted. But these gritty endurance types I've been admiring have no self and no needs and no agenda, or at least they know how to override all that for the main character, who is not us.

And now, back to the episode. The second thing the brave don't do? Leave. Or hide inside work or hobbies or some other socially acceptable busyness. In my worst moments, when sitting on my hands is just unbearable, I have dreamed of going to get an MFA in Paris. Because if I can't help, why do I have to watch? It would be nice to leave and start again. Hardly anyone who's been in a long marriage hasn't at least wondered how it is that the the object of their desire has become so burpy and farty.

So bingo-armed and turkey-necked. Sometimes I see myself naked, stretch marks from pregnancies, scars from cancer surgeries, other things that I don't feel you need to be visualizing right about now. And I think it's a miracle that man stays with me. But, you know, he's not untouched by time either. And that's just the physical. I mean, who here hasn't wanted to be with someone

who hasn't seen us eating on the toilet or bitching at the Comcast guy, leaving behind our own humiliating history, maybe with the nice person we met at art school in Paris. It's an option. People take it. The brave hang around. They are available and ready to bear witness.

The final act of bravery was made clear for me during a conversation with my friend Liz while she was dying at 46. She said she had this weird, long, totally convincing dream where all the parents who, as she put it, had to leave early were gathered. And there she was, one of thousands of moms and dads, and they were on folding chairs, looking down at the world below through a thick glass floor.

And in this imaginary space her subconscious created, there was one rule. You could watch your child's life unfold, but you could only intervene once. In Liz's dream, a perfect dream, she never had to intervene. She had given them enough while she was here. The final act, then, of the truly brave

is leaning back and letting them go. The reward for all this bravery? Not gold medals, not hero shots for Strava, not ringing the bell at the New York Stock Exchange or owning the dinner party with Burning Man stories. I think you know who you are. Maybe not even thanks. The reward is a full human experience, complete with all the emotions at maximum dosage, where we have been put to great use and found an other-centric love that is complete in its expression and its transmission.

The reward is to end up soft and humble, empty and in awe, knowing that of all the magnificence we have beheld, from cradle to grave, the most eye-popping was interpersonal. So here's to anyone who notices and reads between the lines, who asks the right questions but not too many, who takes notes at the doctor's office and wipes butts young and old,

who listens, holds and stays. We, who, untrained and always a little off guard, still dare to do love, to be love. That from Airbnb. If you know me, you know I love staying in Airbnbs when I travel. They make my family feel most at home when we're away from home. As we settled down at our Airbnb during a recent vacation to Palm Springs, I pictured my own home sitting empty. Wouldn't it be smart and better put to use welcoming a family like mine by hosting it on Airbnb. It feels like the practical thing to do and with the extra income I could save up for renovations to make the space even more inviting for ourselves and for future guests. Your home might be worth more than you think.

Find out how much at Airbnb.ca slash host. That was Kelly Corrigan speaking at TED 2024. And to hear more from Kelly, you can check out her podcast, Kelly Corrigan Wonders, wherever you're listening to this. If you're curious about TED's curation, find out more at TED.com slash curation guidelines. And that's it for today. TED Talks Daily is part of the TED Audio Collective. This episode was produced and edited by our team, Martha Estefanos, Oliver Friedman, Brian Green, Autumn Thompson, and Alejandra Salazar. It was mixed by Christopher Fazi-Bogan. Additional support from Emma Taubner, Daniela Balarezo, and Will Hennessey. I'm Elise Hugh. I'll be back tomorrow with a fresh idea for your feed. Thanks for listening. Looking for a fun challenge

to share with your friends and family? TED now has games designed to keep your mind sharp while having fun. Visit TED.com slash games to explore the joy and wonder of TED Games.