Remember that Ignite talk that I was so jazzed about doing earlier this month? Well, it went GREAT. I felt SO good while I was preparing for it, while I was giving the talk, and right afterwards.

But part of me was living in the future, waiting expectantly for the video to be embedded on the Ignite website, so that I could broadcast it to all my friends who are scattered around the world, and use it as marketing on my website.

Well, today the email I was waiting for FINALLY arrived. The videos were released! There was a disclaimer that the “quality of the videos for speakers not standing behind the podium was not as we expected”. I wondered how far below expectations we were talking about.

Here’s the video.

Well, you can’t hear a damn thing! It’s like there were no audio inputs on the video camera! I might as well be doing a pantomime.

So now I’m sitting here, sitting with all my thoughts swirling about what I had planned to do with this video, and how it was going to launch me into internet stardom, or at least give my friends who live in other time zones a chance to share in my feeling of total joy on that evening, telling my story at last.

But this video isn’t going to be able to do that.

It makes me wonder, “Without that recording, has that moment been lost forever?” It’s sort of like the proverbial question of a tree falling in a forest and no one hearing it. Did it really make a sound? In our age of instant sharing and dependence on word and image to feel connected to others through a screen, it’s easy to think that the answer to that question might be, “Yes, but only if someone Tweeted about it later.”

Well, the moment of my Ignite talk has passed. But if the video were perfect, would it have been able to really recreate the moment it captured? My reaction to the loss of the video is a lesson in living in the moment. I still have my bodily internalized memory of that moment, as well as the month of preparation that went into writing my story to be able to tell it in 20 slides and 5 minutes. It is an invaluable process that I carry with me in my writing and thinking in this moment, right now.

I think back and try to recreate in my five senses what that evening felt like to me. The hushed attentiveness of the two hundred plus people in the room, the uproarious applause, the hug I shared with the event’s co-organizer, the comments and conversations with audience members afterwards. The feeling of stillness and flow in my body as I looked at a room full of strangers and stood in declaration of exactly who I am today, without apology.


I wish you could have been there. But more than that, I wish you to remember to live fully, with great appreciation of everything you are experiencing, in THIS moment, wherever you are right now. Enjoy.