Afrikaans
Akan
Albanian
Amharic
Arabic
Armenian
Azerbaijani
Basque
Belarusian
Bemba
Bengali
Bihari
Bosnian
Breton
Bulgarian
Cambodian
Catalan
Cebuano
Cherokee
Chichewa
Chinese (Simplified)
Chinese (Traditional)
Corsican
Croatian
Czech
Danish
Dutch
English
Esperanto
Estonian
Ewe
Faroese
Filipino
Finnish
Frisian
Ga
Galician
Georgian
German
Greek
Guarani
Gujarati
Haitian Creole
Hausa
Hawaiian
Hebrew
Hindi
Hmong
Hungarian
Icelandic
Igbo
Indonesian
Interlingua
Irish
Italian
Japanese
Javanese
Kannada
Kazakh
Kinyarwanda
Kirundi
Kongo
Korean
Krio (Sierra Leone)
Kurdish
Kurdish (Soranรฎ)
Kyrgyz
Laothian
Latin
Latvian
Lingala
Lithuanian
Lozi
Luganda
Luo
Luxembourgish
Macedonian
Malagasy
Malay
Malayalam
Maltese
Maori
Marathi
Mauritian Creole
Moldavian
Mongolian
Myanmar (Burmese)
Montenegrin
Nepali
Nigerian Pidgin
Northern Sotho
Norwegian
Norwegian (Nynorsk)
Occitan
Oriya
Oromo
Pashto
Persian
Polish
Portuguese (Brazil)
Portuguese (Portugal)
Punjabi
Quechua
Romanian
Romansh
Runyakitara
Russian
Samoan
Scots Gaelic
Serbian
Serbo-Croatian
Sesotho
Setswana
Seychellois Creole
Shona
Sindhi
Sinhalese
Slovak
Slovenian
Somali
Spanish
Spanish (Latin American)
Sundanese
Swahili
Swedish
Tajik
Tamil
Tatar
Telugu
Thai
Tigrinya
Tonga
Tshiluba
Tumbuka
Turkish
Turkmen
Twi
Uighur
Ukrainian
Urdu
Uzbek
Vietnamese
Welsh
Wolof
Xhosa
Yiddish
Yoruba
Zulu
[MUSIC PLAYING]
The oral tradition of storytelling
is one of the primary building blocks of civilization.
In the early days, it was how all knowledge was passed
from one generation to another.
And that's what brought the aspect of continuity
to our lives as a species, the idea
that one generation passes its knowledge and information down
to the next through storytelling,
the idea that what I know about my ancestors comes
from the stories that I've been told from the time
I was a little boy.
Alex Haley talking about roots and his journey
of writing the novel "Roots"--
he used to talk about sitting on his grandmother's
Cynthia's porch in Henning, Tennessee,
and hearing the stories in the summer--
all of the old ladies in the family
would sit, and rock, and chew, and spit tobacco,
and they would tell the stories of the family.
And inevitably, those stories would
get to the original African.
They called him the old African, Kunta
Kinte, who one day was looking for wood to make
a drum for his younger brother, and was never seen or heard
from again.
And the importance of Kunta maintaining his identity
and maintaining his contact with who
he was enabled him to pass that story on to succeeding
generations.
When he came to this country, he was in chains,
and then he was able to pass on his personal story
to, first, his daughter Kizzy, and Kizzy passed that story
along to her son, Chicken George, and on and on
through the succeeding generations.
It's a powerful illustration of the nature of information
as it is passed orally.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
I think what makes the oral tradition of storytelling
unique to the human experience is the idea that it
is as old as it is, and that that's
where our contact and the nature of our communication with one
another was born.
It was born out of a need and necessity to communicate.
You can achieve the same thing through the art of written
storytelling, but there's an energetic
that is passed through the oral tradition that isn't present
necessarily in any other medium.
And that energetic has everything
to do with there being nothing required in order to enjoy it,
that there is nothing that one needs
to do to learn to perform in able to benefit
from the oral storyteller tradition.
You just have to be present.
You just have to be listening.
You just have to be paying attention.
So I think it's the nature of oral storyteller itself
as being something that requires no additional work on our part
that makes it so important to us, that makes it so unique.
Take the time, if you are able, to sit
with the oldest members of your family, and get their stories.
Have them tell you their stories so that they don't disappear.
The way this transference of knowledge,
and information, and lore works is that it is only at its most
successful when it is shared.
And in order to share a story, you
have to have contact with it.
You have to know that story.
And they say that a griot is like a tree,
and that all of the stories that a griot contains, knows, shares
are like the leaves of a great tree--
and that, when a storyteller dies,
that there is a mourning that we must pay attention
to because of the loss.
The only thing that mitigates that loss is the idea that we
have extracted as much as we can of the value
and the benefit of what that storyteller contained,
of what they embodied--
and that they have trained a successor, one
that will follow the griot traditions
and pass on the gifts of those stories
to the succeeding generations.
For me, a lot of the purpose of storytelling
is to remind us of who we are, and why we're here,
and what's important to us.
And that more than anything else is
what gets communicated in the sharing and the telling.
It's the idea that, as an audience member,
I can be the beneficiary of all of that knowledge, all
of that wisdom, all of that emotion--
that it is available to me by the simple act of showing
up and being present.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
The act of listening is active.
One might think that just sitting in listening
is a passive pursuit, but it's not.
Listening is an action.
It's an activity that one engages in,
because it requires--
not necessarily effort, but awareness.
And I think that's the difference
between being a lump on a log and a human being engaged
in a moment.
It's your awareness of where you are, and what you're doing,
and what the intention is.
Part of the storyteller's magic is the ability
to capture the attention and the imagination of the audience.
And we do that through so many different methods.
It's the ability to command one's attention,
command the attention of the other
through inflection, through movement, through gesture,
through silence.
Silence is an underutilized tool in communicating.
I've stood in front of a room full of people
like at a luncheon, where people were chattering, chattering,
chattering, chattering, chattering,
and for me, the most effective way to get
that room to quiet down is to simply stand still.
Sooner or later, the awareness begins
to move throughout the room.
Wait a minute.
We should be paying attention here.
And sure enough, all of those conversations die down,
and before I know it, I have the attention of the room.
And it's the stillness that I bring to that moment that
makes it possible.
So silence is a real powerful tool for communication.
And it's the journey of the storyteller
that we learn all of these tricks of the trade.
We learn all of these methods and methodologies
of capturing and holding the attention of the audience
long enough to deliver what it is we came to deliver.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
For me, being present has everything
to do with engaging my filter, filtering out
distraction, filtering out that which is not necessary for me--
all of the thoughts that one can bring to a moment.
Did I turn off the coffee pot this morning?
I wonder-- oh, I didn't start the load of laundry.
I was supposed to call my accountant back.
Is it bad news?
Is it good news?
All of these thoughts that, a million miles a second,
tend to permeate our mind--
the ability to filter them out and surrender
to any given moment--
that's what being in the moment looks and feels like to me--
just being able to get rid of all of the noise
all of the chatter.
Because we are always bringing something
to every moment, what I try to do--
I try and bring my attention to the moment.
And everything else seems to fade in the background.
It's the attention that you bring that--
where you find the value in any present time moment
that you want to engage with.
It's intention, attention and intention.
And I think that it is true for most of us
that we have the ability to focus our energy
and attention in a singular direction for at least
a few minutes at a time.
And if you can do it for a few seconds at a time,
you can do it for a few minutes at a time.
And if you can do it for a few minutes at a time,
you can do it for longer periods, through practice.
The key to cultivating awareness is
as simple as practicing noticing things.
There's so much that we are not aware of, that we
don't notice in our lives.
Awareness is the key to self-knowledge--
going back to those important qualities
that a good storyteller possesses, self-knowledge chief
among them.
There is an experience that we have all
had of standing and gazing up at the night
sky, and the sense of majesty that we
experience in that moment.
And by just noticing the heavens, and how sparkly
and infinite they are creates an a an awareness
that doesn't go away.
It's only enhanced every time you look up at the night sky.
So it's the ability.
I believe, to notice that really introduces us
to the concept of awareness.
That awareness is what we bring to these moments that
enhance our ability to be successful as a part
of a storytelling experience.
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get subtitles in any language from opensubtitles.com, and translate them here.