The story of our planet’s future is complex, with both positive and negative narratives unfolding. As Angus Hervey explains in his talk at TED2025, global collapse and unprecedented progress exist simultaneously within a state of “contested terrain,” and humanity’s ultimate trajectory is determined by the daily choices and deliberate actions we take in order to create a narrative of constructive solutions over destruction and despair.
From a storytelling perspective, how does Angus get his point across and create impact? One technique that he employs is a non-traditional structure built upon Juxtaposition and Paradox, contrasting a widely told “Story of Collapse” with the often-overlooked “Story of Renewal.”
It’s a technique often used when describing social issues that essentially says, “You may be thinking this story is unfolding in one direction, and while there is truth in that view, there’s an alternate narrative that you also need to consider.”
Let’s take a look at how Angus takes the audience on a factual and emotional journey that ultimately leads to the message his story is designed to convey.
Note how he reveals his profession when he says, “I’m a solutions journalist.” Have you ever heard that phrase before? Probably not, so it becomes a hook, capturing your attention, as we’re curious about anything that’s unfamiliar.
He expands on this theme with, “reporting on stories of progress”, but then turns the narrative on its head by offering, “maybe I was wrong”. After three sentences we want to find out where his story is heading.
He illustrates the idea that he may be wrong by recounting a few present-day problems that we have heard about: the end of rules-based order, power over principle, science under attack, casual cruelty, etc. At this point in the story we feel the weight of the negative narratives that dominate our daily news cycle.
Ultimately, none of us know whether we are living in the downswing or the upswing of history.
But then he signals a shift in tone by saying, “There is something missing though from this story.”, and goes on to list off a much longer series of positive events and accomplishments that are happening around the world.
Both of these stories are true. But the only question that matters now is which one do you belong to?
This tonal shift is also apparent in his choice of words as he transitions from “monsters,” “vandalism,” and “unraveling” to using positive language, such as “bending the curve,” “protected,” and “breakthroughs”.
It’s a reminder that your word choice matters. So as you craft your story, seek out specific words and phrases that not only describe what you’re thinking, but also contain emotional impact.
Transcript
I’m a solutions journalist. For over a decade, I’ve been reporting on stories of progress.
But in the last few months, I’ve started to think that maybe I was wrong.
Almost a century ago, the Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci, thrown into prison by Mussolini, wrote: “The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.”
Those words are haunting. It feels like he could be speaking to us today. A great unravelling is underway, and you know this story because it is everywhere.
The end of the international rules-based order. Power over principle. Aid budgets obliterated. Science under attack. Putin, Zelensky, Trump, Gaza, hospitals, hostages. Sudan, famine, DRC, rebels, Yemen, Venezuela, Turkey, Hungary, Taiwan. The United States of America. The economic vandalism, the contempt for the rule of law, the casual cruelty, the measles.
All of the values that we assumed were universal — truth, decency, common sense — face not just reversal but violent backlash. Beneath the surface, deeper, more menacing undercurrents: the digital platforms that were supposed to connect us now do the opposite. Algorithms breed paranoia, manufacturing division, drowning truth in deliberate falsehoods.
Carl Sagan warned us about this: an era where people, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, “we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness.”
And as we argue online, planetary crisis: firestorms in our cities, plastic in our blood, the pollinators, the permafrost, the coral reefs, an ice-free Arctic within our lifetimes. The tipping points loom, and Gramsci’s monsters are at the gates, precisely at the moment that we seem least equipped to deal with them.
This is the story of collapse. It is on the front page of all the news sites. It is at the top of all our newsfeeds. We are intimately familiar with its graphic details. You can tune it out. You can turn it off. But you cannot ignore it.
There is something missing though from this story. Is there room in it for the words of people like Hellen Awuor O’ruro, a nurse from Kenya?
[Kenyan Nurse Voiceover]: “What I can say is that the deaths that we used to see from the severe forms of malaria in children under five have greatly gone down. And I think this is being attributed to the presence of this vaccine. The mere fact that we can now reduce these deaths, it’s really great for our community, because no one should lose a child.”
Just over 12 months ago, humanity began the roll-out of the first ever vaccine for malaria. And as you can hear, it’s working. The kids aren’t dying anymore. Already, over 5 million children in 17 countries have been vaccinated. By the end of this decade, the plan is to reach 50 million. 50 million children finally protected against a disease that has been killing children since before we invented writing. And that is not the only story that’s missing.
Since you were last all in this room, 11 countries have eliminated a disease, including Jordan, the first ever country to eliminate leprosy. Eight countries, home to over 100 million children, have either banned or committed to banning corporal punishment in all settings. Zambia, Sierra Leone, and Colombia all banned child marriage. Syria rid itself of a 50-year-old autocratic regime.
Bangladesh’s students sparked democratic change through massive protests. Voters in India, the world’s largest democracy, firmly rejected authoritarianism. England, Ireland, and Canada extended free contraception to more women. Indonesia launched a program to feed all 70 million of its school students. And did you know that Cambodia, once the world’s most mined country, is on its track to be landmine-free within the next few years?
In 2024, fewer people died from natural disasters than almost any year in history. The murder rate in the United States saw its biggest ever 12-month decline, beating the previous record which was set in 2023. And deforestation in the Amazon declined to its fourth lowest level on record, an achievement that gives me more hope for life on Earth than all the rockets that we send to Mars.
Last year, we installed enough solar panels and wind turbines to replace 6% of the world’s fossil fuel electricity. This year, we will install even more. We are bending the curve. Emissions are declining in Europe and America and have finally leveled off in China.
Electric vehicles are biting into oil demand now. Wind, water, and sunshine will overtake coal this year as the world’s leading power source, regardless of what anyone says in the White House.
And thanks to artificial intelligence, we are now starting to see breakthroughs we once thought impossible: the biggest boost to human knowledge since the scientific revolution.
We are determining the structure and interaction of every single one of life’s molecules, inventing extraordinary new enzymes, new drugs, new materials, controlling plasma and nuclear fusion experiments.
Last year, we got a new miracle drug for HIV prevention, mRNA vaccines for cancer. We found the building blocks for life in an asteroid, decoded whale speech, and discovered fractals in the quantum realm.
Did you know that sea turtle populations are increasing around the world? Or that overfishing is declining in the Mediterranean? Or that last year China finished encircling its largest desert with a giant belt of trees, its very own Great Green Wall?
And this year, the United States created its largest conservation corridor, stretching from Utah down to California. These are all victories from the last 12 months, but they happened because people, often small groups of people, fought for years and sometimes decades.
And if we extend our time frame out, even better news: over 4 million square kilometers of the world’s oceans have been protected in the last four years. Air pollution has started to decline. In the last decade, over 250 million children have gained access to clean water, sanitation, and hygiene at school. And in this century—this insane roller coaster of a century—over a billion people have been lifted from extreme poverty.
Deaths from the world’s deadliest infectious diseases have halved, and for the first time in history, over 50% of students receive a high school education. We have no precedent for that: a world where the majority of people can read, write, and calculate, where most humans possess the tools to question authority and determine their own destinies.
So, which one of these stories is true? Is this the long-awaited fall from grace, or are we on a journey to the promised land? Collapse, or renewal?
The answer, of course, is that it’s both. And the truth is that it has always been this way. Even as we rebuilt from the ashes of the Second World War, the shadow of nuclear annihilation loomed. The pandemic devastated our communities, yet our scientific response was revolutionary.
Climate change threatens our future, yet its solution, clean energy, offers us a fairer, better world. This is not an easy paradox to hold in your head or in your heart: the understanding that in the same moment, innocent people are being snatched off the streets and children are dying in air strikes, the malaria wards are emptying across an entire continent, and in a faraway village under a thousand stars, a young girl who would once have been forced into marriage is studying equations under an electric light that wasn’t there a year ago.
Real life isn’t a story. History doesn’t have a moral arc. Progress isn’t a rule. It is contested terrain, fought for daily by millions of people who refuse to give in to despair. Ultimately, none of us know whether we are living in the downswing or the upswing of history.
But I do know that we all get a choice. We, all of us, get to decide which one of these stories we are a part of. We add to their grand weave in the work that we do, in the daily decisions we make about where we put our money, where we put our energy, and our time, in the stories we tell each other, and in the words that come out of our mouths.
It is not enough to believe in something anymore. It is time to do something. Ask yourself, if our worst fears come to pass and the monsters breach the walls, who do you want to be standing next to? The prophets of doom, the cynics who said “we told you so,” or the people who with their eyes wide open, dug the trenches and fetched water.
Both of these stories are true. But the only question that matters now is which one do you belong to?
Back to you…
So how did you feel after hearing Angus’ story? Did your perspective shift from doom to hope? The feeling of hope, or the belief that a better future is possible, is the most common goal when telling an impactful personal story.
The rehearsal process is where you have the opportunity to get feedback from trusted friends as to how they felt after hearing your story. If the impact wasn’t felt, you have more editing to do. But not to worry, as it typically takes a number of draft revisions to hit the reaction you’re looking for.
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The Grassroots Movement Transforming Public Safety – Aqeela Sherrills at TED2025
/in Community, Family, TED Talk, Violence/by Mark LovettUrban violence plagues cities around the world, and too often the approach taken by governments is to simply enforce existing laws — something of an outside-in-approach. In this talk from TED2025, Aqeela Sherrills proposes a different strategy — more of an inside-out-approach to reducing the level of violence that vexes so many neighborhoods.
Let’s take a look at how Aqueela structured his talk in a way that exposed the audience to what was most likely uncharted territory. Notice how he uses a combination of personal stories, second hand stories, historical references, alongside statistics to craft a compelling and easy to follow narrative.
Aqueela lays the groundwork for the idea he’s sharing by taking the audience back to 1992, the year two rival Los Angeles gangs — the Crips and the Bloods — came to the peace table to hammer out a treaty. For those unfamiliar with the gang wars that had led up to this point, he frames it as a: “three-decade-long urban war that claimed more than 10,000 lives in LA County alone“.
With that context in mind, Aqueela proceeds to reveal a bit of his own backstory, having grown up amidst this turmoil, before transitioning to the outcome of the peace treaty that he was part of. This is a key aspect of presenting an idea from the perspective of your personal experience.
At this juncture, the audience knows the problem that’s being discussed and the speaker’s relationship with the issue. We’re not hearing this story from someone in law enforcement or the judicial system. This is a personal narrative from an individual who lived through the problem, who witnessed it firsthand, and is determined to become part of the solution.
With a sense of what’s at stake, Aqueela fast-forwards to the present, letting us know that the problem of urban violence remains, especially within low-income communities.
But he also tells us that police departments have realized arrests alone won’t solve the problem, and they’re increasingly turning to community leaders to create solutions. This is about halfway through the talk, which allows him to explore the solution in more detail than he used to describe the problem.
He rolls back into story mode by introducing Ras Baraka, the mayor of Newark, New Jersey, and the specific need to create a violence intervention strategy. He then delves into additional examples, such as launching the Safe Passage program and the city’s first trauma recovery center.
What caught me off guard was shifting the narrative to the murder of his son. Something that dramatic is often revealed near the beginning of a talk, but by holding it back until close the end, Aqueela is able to emphasize the fact that these new programs designed to stem urban violence are needed now more than ever.
I’ve covered a few key points in this story, but as you listen to Aqueela’s TED Talk, pay attention to how he plants each signpost along the way, and how much you end up learning in just 12 minutes.
Transcript
In 1992, the year that the Los Angeles homicide rate reached an all-time high, members of the Crips and Bloods, two of the largest gangs in the US, sat down together and brokered a peace treaty. This historic event ended a three-decade-long urban war that claimed more than 10,000 lives in LA County alone, not including those permanently maimed or incarcerated for life.
I was one of those gang members who negotiated that treaty. Thank you. Growing up in the Jordan Downs housing projects in the Watts section of Los Angeles, I witnessed things no child should ever be subject to. By the time I was 16, I had attended 20 funerals of friends. And like so many youth surrounded by violence and poverty, I was desensitized and angry. Joining the neighborhood gang was my solution for safety and protection.
Now, it’s important to understand that Black American gangs aren’t inherently violent. Less than three to five percent of so-called gang members are actually committing violent crime. More often, they’re like surrogate families. We’re protecting one another, but sometimes the only way we knew how to survive.
In the first two years of the peace treaty, homicides in Watts declined by 44 percent, changing the quality of life in my neighborhood. I was just 23 years old, and my firstborn son, Terrell, had just turned seven. Driven by the belief that our children would not inherit our conflicts, we took the call to peace to 16 more cities, contributing to a national decline in youth violence.
You see, peace was possible because nobody could stop that war but us — those of us at the center of the conflict. It took months of intense high-stake conversations, starting with a handful of brothers from the four housing projects. During the negotiation, I asked who was winning the war that we were waging against each other. Every time we’d die or go to prison, no one was there to provide direction and guidance for our kids.
You see, violence is about proximity. I had known most of my so-called enemies my entire life, from school and from the neighborhood. A small group of us went into so-called enemy territory. The news of the peace treaty spread like wildfires. Hundreds of youths from formerly warring gangs attended celebrations in the projects to mark the new beginning. The peace treaty inspired similar agreements across the country and lasted for 12 years.
Fast forward into today, the cycle of violence remains an extremely concentrated problem with unequal impacts. Residents in low-income urban communities of color are 15 times more likely to be harmed by violence, but yet three times less likely to get help.
And for Black males ages 14 to 25, violence is the number one cause of death. As this crisis has worsened in cities, overwhelmed police departments are joining forces with community leaders to say that arrests alone will not end the cycle of violence.
Many solutions are being proposed. But what we’re proposing is an internal solution. A solution led by those most impacted by violence. A solution that lifts up nontraditional leaders to play a key role in creating safety in their own respective communities.
You see, investing in nontraditional leaders as a complement to policing, works. In 2014 I got a call from my friend Ras Baraka, mayor of Newark, New Jersey. Mayor Baraka asked me to help him to strengthen his community violence intervention strategy.
Now, Newark had been on the top ten most violent city lists for almost 50 consecutive years. With a modest investment from local philanthropies, I launched a Newark Community Street Team. I hired 16 credible messengers, many of them ex-gang members and formerly incarcerated folks who have deep relationships in the neighborhood.
We trained them in conflict resolution and mediation strategies and deployed them in high-violence areas, and asked them to use their relationship capital to intervene and mediate gang disputes that could lead to violence.
Now, you know, law enforcement investigations are crucial, but not always successful, and often painstakingly slow, whereas the credible messengers can prevent the next shooting in real time. We launched the Safe Passage program to ensure our kids went to school safely, because violence often happens before and after school.
We launched the city’s first trauma recovery center to provide therapeutic services to victims to help them heal. We also provided mentoring and outreach and case management. You see, safety isn’t just one intervention. It’s a shared strategy and requires an ecosystem of programs that residents trust.
When we started our work in Newark in 2014, the city had 103 homicides. In 2024, we had 37. Family, these are not just numbers. They’re actual lives saved. Newark now has nine consecutive years of decline, and we’re no longer on the top ten most violent city lists.
Now, what we achieved in Newark was more than historic lows in violence. Local law enforcement credits us as the essential strategic partner in reducing violence in the city. And today, the Newark Street team has over 80 staff, is a formal partner with the city, and received millions of dollars in public funding.
Now, family, we’re not just the only ones that’s improving safety in our cities. It’s just rarely recognized and supported. Take my good friend, Miss Brenda Glass, a survivor of violence from Cleveland, Ohio. Brenda started Cleveland’s first trauma recovery center, but had to cash in her retirement fund just to keep her doors open.
And despite being the city’s only 24-hour assistance for victims, it took the city five years before they granted her money. Another champion is my brother Lyle Muhammad from Miami, who employs credible messengers in some of the most violent neighborhoods but struggles to provide a livable wage and ongoing training for his staff.
These often overlooked groups are most of the time ineligible for public funding, but what they do have is deep commitment, lived experience, trust and community support.
Now, other cities are primed to replicate the successes that we had in Newark and following the steps of leaders like Brenda and Lyle, but very few essential community organizations have the know-how to become a permanent part of the city’s public safety workforce.
Family, we’re about to change all of that. With the generous investment from the Audacious TED community, and support from people just like you, we’re launching Scaling Safety, an initiative to put the public back in public safety. Our solution is simple: Redefine public safety by investing in a coordinated set of high-impact, resident-led programs that create real, lasting change.
In 2021, I launched a community-based public safety collective to spread the Newark Community Street Team strategy nationwide. We’ve already helped 150 organizations in 60-plus cities. Now we’re teaming up with the Alliance for Safety and Justice, the nation’s leader in public safety advocacy.
ASJ has unlocked three billion dollars in funding and led 150 policy reforms to support community safety programs. Together, we’re creating a stronger, more effective approach to safety, one that complements law enforcement and breaks the cycle of harm.
Now, addressing violence is extremely complex, but just as we no longer rely on hospitals and emergency rooms alone to improve public health, we cannot rely on the justice system alone to create safety.
In public health, community health workers emerged to improve preventative health care by training residents in outreach and peer support. They’ve reduced the burdens on emergency rooms and improved public health. We believe the same can be done with public safety, because racially equitable access to safety begins with community engagement.
Now, in 2003, my oldest son, Terrell, that was seven years old when I negotiated the treaty, graduated from high school and was accepted into Humboldt State University. The proudest day of my life, family, was driving this kid to school to start his first day as a college student.
Terrell was an inspiration to his younger siblings and the reason why I became a lifelong advocate for peace. He came home from winter break. He went to a party with some of his friends in an affluent neighborhood in LA. There, some kids from a local gang showed up at the party, mistook his red Mickey Mouse sweater for gang colors, and shot him to death.
Family, I’m no novice to violence, I’ve witnessed it my entire life. But nothing prepares you for the loss of your child. But what I’ve come to understand is that peace is a journey and not a destination. And that public safety is not just the absence of violence and crime, but the presence of well-being and the infrastructure to support victims and survivors in their healing journey.
Scaling Safety is our healing journey and my continued commitment to Terrell and Oscar Guizar and Ronzell Pointer, and the thousands like them, that their deaths were not in vain.
Thank you.
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How Ibogaine Could Treat Depression and Anxiety – Nolan Williams at TED2025
/in Biology, Health, Mental Health, Nature, Trauma/by Mark LovettIn his 2025 TED Talk, Nolan Williams argues that institutional resistance, driven by those who reject simple, plant-based medicinal solutions in favor of complex, man-made chemicals, can delay the adoption of natural therapies, and in doing so, lead to loss of life.
For example, this paradigm delayed the cure for scurvy for over a century and cost a million lives. In his talk Nolan offers the opinion that this same approach is being repeated today, by keeping powerful psychedelic plant medicines like ibogaine — which show dramatic efficacy in treating traumatic brain injury (TBI), post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and addiction — illegal as it’s classified as a Schedule I drug, thus preventing life-saving treatments from those in need.
As director of Stanford University School of Medicine’s Brain Stimulation Lab, Nolan could have approached this topic from a highly technical angle. Instead, he takes us on a journey, beginning with a stop onboard a British naval vessel in 1756. Here he sets the stage for his premise — that nature sometimes offers a cure to a common human ailment, but if there is resistance to adoption, the delay can cost lives.
He then introduces a new plant-derived medicine, ibogaine, used historically by the Bwiti people. He shares the story of Marcus Capone, a Navy SEAL who had to travel to Mexico for the illegal compound that saved his life, convincing Williams to study it.
What’s interesting is that, instead of recounting the details secondhand, Nolan uses clips of an interview with Marcus so that we hear his words directly. This may or may not be an option when you’re telling your story in public, but it’s a technique to consider when the possibility exists.
As this treatment is controversial, and has potential side-effects, he concludes with both a sense of caution, and a call for open-minded, data-driven evaluation, warning that “the clock is ticking” on the edge between institutional rejection and acceptance.
It’s obvious that Nolan believes in the potential of this treatment, but at the same time he carefully chooses his words and doesn’t make universal claims that are not supported by the research to date. This is a factor that anyone telling a science-based story needs to pay attention to.
Transcript
Alright, it’s 1756. You’re all aboard a British naval vessel headed to the New World. You’re down below deck with your fellow sailors, and you’re all sick. Your legs are swollen, your gums are bleeding, you just lost a tooth. You go to the ship’s doctor and he tells you this is due to internal decay and laziness.
You ask about this foreign fruit medicine, the citrus medicine that you could take, and he tells you that this is not a treatment for what you have. It’s too simple; it’s a plant medicine. And he’s an anti-fruiter. And instead, he prescribes you arsenic tonics. True story. And you get worse. And when you get to the new world, half of your shipmates are deceased.
My name is Nolan Williams, and I’m here to talk to you about anti-fruiters: people who weaponize scientific skepticism to thwart new treatments from getting out to the world.
And so scurvy is an illness that killed two million people from the time of Columbus all the way through to the time of widespread citrus adoption. And scurvy is the result of a lack of vitamin C in the diet. And the reason why these sailors had a lack of vitamin C is because it was a long sea voyage, so you need to eat dried meats and that sort of thing.
And so we observed early on in the 1500s, this association between eating citrus fruit and the prevention or the treatment of scurvy. And so it was written early on that this was a precious medicine, something that could be used for this problem. So much so that it actually birthed the world’s first clinical trial. So the clinical trial, as a scientific tool, is the result of trying to find a solution for scurvy.
And so they gave all these man-made treatments, and then they gave citrus. And I don’t have to tell you what the answer to this scientific question was. The people that got the citrus fruit were helping everybody else at the end of the experiment.
But there was a reaction. The royal societies did not like this idea. There was backlash, and many thought this was too simple to be a solution for such a problem, that a plant could not solve such a complex problem. And instead they prescribed arsenic, mercury, man-made chemicals.
Now science eventually prevailed. You know, we were able to see that this was actually helpful. But the problem was that from the time of James Lind‘s study to the time of widespread implementation was more than 100 years. A million people died. But this was a war waged against progress by these anti-fruiters. And it was another 100 years before we even knew what was in the citrus fruit that was improving scurvy. Right, we’d rid the world of scurvy at that point.
And so I’m going to switch to a new plant medicine: psychedelics. Psychedelics have been used for thousands of years by Indigenous populations. The Tabernanthe Iboga root bark of central West Africa was used by the Bwiti for psychospiritual purposes for centuries, and they knew that this was a powerful compound. It needed to be done in certain, kind of medical-like or medical settings in modern medicine. And we need to be able to monitor people because it does have risks, like a rare cardiac arrhythmia and death.
And so the modern scourge of sailors, Navy Seals, isn’t scurvy. It’s traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder. And the treatments that are out there, oral antidepressants and talk therapy, do help some people, but they’re limited. And so these veterans have decided when they don’t get improvement from the standard treatments that some of them have gone out to take psychedelic medicines.
And I was approached by one such veteran, Marcus Capone, him and his wife, Amber. Marcus had been a Navy Seal for 13 years and suffered many traumatic brain injuries, and had PTSD once he got out. And he went down to Mexico, outside of the US, as a US soldier, outside of the US, down to a foreign country to receive a compound that is illegal in the US, a compound that he believes saved his life.
And when I met these folks, I heard the story. At first I was a little bit skeptical. But then once I heard Marcus’s story and other stories, I became convinced that this was something worth studying. So now I’m going to let you listen to Erick’s story, and you tell me what you think.
(Video) Erick: I don’t know exactly all the reasons why I’m not whole. I know a lot of the symptoms, like being a basically barely functioning alcoholic my entire life to the point of neglecting myself, neglecting my kids. It’s so bad that I have zero control over it. I haven’t gone a day without drinking in probably 10 years. This is my last chance. I want to be able to heal myself, so that I can be whole for my family.
NW: So, this is the study that we conducted at Stanford. Just like Erick, most of these folks had PTSD in addition to traumatic brain injury beforehand. But after, they had a significant reduction and crossed the line to no longer meet PTSD diagnosis after they received ibogaine.
Significant reductions in anxiety, 80-plus percent, significant reductions in depression. And remarkably, resolution of disability from traumatic brain injury. Something that we haven’t seen before. So now I’m going to let Erick tell you about that.
(Video) Erick: It’s been about seven months, and pretty much everything is different. A buddy of mine came by the house the other day. He had a drink with him, he drove there. “Hey, you want a drink?” “Nah, man, I’m good, I don’t drink anymore.” He’s like… “I’ll get you a drink.” I’m like, “No, I really don’t drink anymore.” He’s like, “Whatever, I’ll go get you a drink.” No, he didn’t believe me. I mean, we were standing there talking for probably 30 minutes. In that time before I would have smoked five cigarettes, you know.
And he was like, “Wait a minute, did you quit smoking, too?” I was like, “Yeah.” “What?” Everything has changed. It’s hard to tell somebody one weekend and everything’s different. Like some kind of magic pill or something, which it’s not. I mean, the real work started after the experience, but the experience gave me the tools to be able to do the work in the first place. There are so many people that could heal from this. There are so many people that would still be here. I have friends that would still be here. I have family that would still be here.
NW: So now, I’m going to let Erick describe the effect. What did he feel while he was under this compound? And what a lot of people will describe is that they go back and look through earlier-life memories, and they’re able to see these memories from a detached third-party perspective and look at them and see them and really re-assimilate them into meaning.
(Video) Erick: The visuals that I remember the most were like going through a photo album, but like a Rolodex and you flip it as fast as you can and everything goes by and it’s a blur. There’s clips out of my life. Like an outsider looking in. It allowed me to confront traumas that had much more of an impact on me than I realized. That was one of the biggest things I got from the weekend, is just that I need to stop poisoning myself. In every aspect possible.
NW: So just like citrus for scurvy, psychedelic plant medicines were initially seen as quite positive, and even the National Institute of Mental Health director in the mid ’60s thought that these were powerful, potentially powerful therapeutic tools and tools for understanding the brain-behavior relationships.
But unlike citrus for scurvy, psychedelic plant medicines, these plant medicines, were made illegal. Can you imagine how much longer it would have taken for us to be able to get citrus out if we made the orange illegal?
And so there’s hope. A small group of scientists in the early 2000s, including some in the audience, have been able to get these studies back up and running. Some of them all the way through to being evaluated or reevaluated by the FDA very soon. Ibogaine, we’re trying to get an investigational new drug application to the FDA right now.
Now am I telling you to go and run out and go to Mexico and take psychedelics? No. You need to wait until everything’s done, until the trials are done if they are to show us that these are positive.
However, what I am saying is that the data shouldn’t be evaluated by anti-fruiters. It shouldn’t be evaluated by believers either. It should be evaluated by open-minded people that are able to look at the data clear-minded, right? And what I’m also here to tell you is that these compounds sit on Schedule I. And what that means is that they’re on the same level of control as heroin. Right
It means that there’s no medicinal use and they have a high abuse liability. How many of you think that there was no medicinal help for Erick? How many thought that there was?
And so you can all sit here and think, in the 1750s, it would have been crazy to make the orange illegal. What will our grandchildren think about us? Right? And so we’re on this edge between institutional rejection and acceptance and the time, the clock is ticking. And I’m going to ask you, did we make the orange illegal? Only time will tell.
Thank you.
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Alexis Barton realizes that nothing good happens after 2 AM – Live at The Moth
/in Comedy, Humor, Personal Stories, The Moth/by Mark LovettPersonal stories don’t have to be extraordinary or sensational to have impact. They can just as easily be what I think of as everyday profound. On one level, they’re simple tales from life, but under the surface there’s a deeper meaning. Often a realization of some kind or an aha moment. And when there’s a funny thread running through your narrative, all the better. Alexis Barton’s story told at The Moth is a prime example of storytelling that I call humor with heart.
While her story is unique, many of us have been in relationships that could have become long lasting, but over time they faded away, and in the end, we realized it was for the best. And that’s a factor to consider when crafting your own story. Think about what makes your story different, all yours, and how the theme can connect to a broad audience?
What became evident to me while listening to Alexis’ story was her mastery of language and humor. Consider her use of the phrase poetic obstacle and the word situationship. This is difficult for most storytellers to pull off unless they happen to be a professional writer, which she reveals at the end. That said, I invite you to try your hand at crafting a unique phrase or novel hybrid word.
Notice the early hints she offers as to her background and style with mention of “Southern girls love bows”, and “Southern girls love hair ribbons”. On their own, they provide the audience with a sense of how she looks, but they also serve as a bit of foreshadowing when she later says, “I’m Sandra Dee in my little ponytail and hair ribbon.” It’s a clever callback, taking us from the general to the specific.
I also appreciated the way in which she compared herself to her quasi-boyfriend and his date when they all crossed paths in Walmart at 2am. Rather than saying “they were obviously together” and “I was obviously alone”, she refers to the fact that, “they had couple snacks…and I had single-girl food”. While either approach works, the former is simply stating a fact, while her word choice connects to the audience in a common way, as we’ve all been shopping and noticed what was in someone else’s shopping cart.
Transcript
Most love stories end with a white dress. Mine begins with one. The white dress I wore for my high school graduation was above the knee and chic, backless, and it had a sweet little bow at the back because Southern girls love bows.
And when I wore it to my graduation, I had no idea that it might serve a second purpose as a wedding dress, or more accurately, a dress to elope in.
But about two and a half years later, I was a college student at UAB, and I was, “Go Blazers!” I was dangerously in love with an upperclassman who lived two floors above me in the dorm, and we’ll call him Quinton.
Quinton was gorgeous. Every girl on campus wanted Quinton. But he wanted me. The fact that Quinton already had a girlfriend, that was just a poetic obstacle that I had to overcome. And I did.
Quinton and I sealed our “situationship” with a kiss under a streetlight in the rain, and it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me.
Now, we didn’t actually go out; we sofa-sat. That’s what you did before Netflix and chill. And we talked about all kinds of things and eventually the talk turned to marriage. Now, between us, we had one job, and both of us were still on our parents’ health insurance, and so this seemed like a fantastic idea. And we didn’t want to burden our parents with paying for a wedding, so we thought, we’ll cut class, like the scholars we were, and run down to Jefferson County and elope. And I already had the perfect dress in my closet at home, so I snuck home to Bruton, Alabama, and grabbed my high school dress and snuck it back.
Now, we chickened out. We didn’t actually elope. The day came and went and I just couldn’t do it and he couldn’t either. And we were all right with that. We continued to see each other and we were happy. And, uh, one night when we weren’t sofa-sitting, I went to Walmart with my roommate at 2 AM. As one does. That’s the perfect time to go to Walmart. It’s the witching hour, like going to Waffle House at the same hour. And as one does, we were wearing what most people are wearing at 2 AM—pajamas.
I had on a matching pastel kind of top and bottom with a little Peter Pan collar and white Keds, and I had a ponytail and I had a hair ribbon because Southern girls love hair ribbons. And we went down to Walmart on Lakeshore. And we were going to get some snacks. And, uh, we went all over the store, and we got chips and dip and Coke and Lean Cuisine and Crystal Light. And we made our way to the frozen food aisle because we needed ice cream. And if you’ve been in that Walmart, you know how wide and long that aisle is.
And so we are on the Blue Bell end, because I’m a Blue Bell girl. And we are looking at the options. And at the other end, the opposite end of the aisle, there is a couple coming toward us. And I’m severely nearsighted, so I can only really see y’all. I can’t see what’s happening at the back. And so we’re making our way down, India, my roommate, and I. And the couple at the opposite end is slowly coming toward us. And the closer they come to us, I realize it’s Quinton. And he’s on a date. And the girl was cute. She had on her going-out top. And if you know what I mean by that. Uh, she had on some cute jeans and some cute shoes and her hair and makeup was flawless. And look at me. I’m Sandra Dee in my little ponytail and hair ribbon.
And I took it all in as they walked past me. And I looked in their buggy and they had couple snacks. They had chocolate-covered Oreos. They had strawberries. They had wine. They had cubed cheese and olives. And it was obvious that they were together. Mind you, he had never taken me out. And I had single-girl food in my buggy. I had Lean Cuisine and Crystal Light. And I realized then that I was a single woman and I had had no clue all along. And we kept moving, we never broke stride. We get to the end of the aisle and I ask India, “Did I see what I thought I saw?” And I was hoping she would say no, but she’s not that type of person. She said, “Yeah, girl, you saw it. Everybody saw it in Walmart.” And, uh, she took me home. And this is—this is the point where I’d like to say I gathered my dignity, but I didn’t. I called another friend to pick me up, and we shot out for his house. Because it was his term to face uncomfortable truths at an inconvenient time in front of an audience—his neighbors. And I let him have it. And I realized in the moment how afraid he was of me when I popped out of the shadows, and I realized, you know, girl, this is over. And so I left.
This story has a happy ending. Two happy endings, because Quinton married that girl, and they have a beautiful family. And I lived to tell this story here tonight, so we both won. And if there are any lessons from this, and there are three that I have—it has taken me several years to come to. It is: nothing good happens after 2 AM, just like your mother said. Never double-cross a writer because you will become material. And three: always wear your cute outfit when you go out, because you never know who you’re gonna see in Walmart.
Thank you.
Back to you…
What stood out to you? At what points did you connect to her story? Especially if there was a passage that described something you’ve never experienced, but it resonated with you at a higher level.
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Mike Sella goes skydiving with his daughter – at The Moth in San Francisco
/in Family, Humor, Life Lessons, The Moth/by Mark LovettHave you ever found yourself in a situation that forced you to face your fears? And there was really no way out? Most likely you have, and such life events can become the basis for personal stories that others can connect to. Even if those hearing your story haven’t had the same experience as you, they can relate to the common emotions that such situations evoke.
Delivered at The Moth in San Francisco, Mike Sella shares a story about the time went skydiving for his daughter’s birthday, despite his fear of heights. From the setup to exiting the plane, we’re with him for the journey, and it’s a fun ride.
Let’s take a look at how Mike structured his story to connect with the audience, create tension, and deliver a comedic punchline that beautifully brings us full circle.
Rather than starting with the terrifying prospect of jumping out of a plane, he takes us to a familiar, low-stakes setting: Disneyland. In doing so, he establishes three critical elements. First, he’s a loving, fun dad. Second, he has a signature shtick — faking a bored yawn for the on-ride roller coaster camera. And third, his daughter Parker wants to go skydiving, a prospect that clashes with his self-professed “big fear of heights.”
His exaggerated yawn, which is basically an inside joke with his daughter, seems like a minor act, but it’s something that we subconsciously file away. Eventually we see that it’s the key to the entire story, but in the beginning, he’s planting a narrative seed. It’s a classic use of foreshadowing that enriches the overall story.
Describing himself as the “luggage of someone who is skydiving” is a perfect visual metaphor, as it highlights his complete lack of agency. Something we all fear. The anxiety goes up a notch with his comments about the “casually dangling” leg of another skydiver, as well as the plane taking off without the door closed. We feel his sense of panic, but the tone is still humorous, and we’re enjoying the journey.
When his daughter disappears from the plane, Mike realizes it’s a point of no return, and his motivation shifts from fear of jumping to the primal fear of losing his child, which gives him the push he needs.
As he’s plummeting to Earth, and the audience is plummeting with him, the instructor gestures for him to smile for the camera. But instead of smiling, Mike executes his signature move: the exaggerated yawn.
The seed planted in the story’s opening minutes blooms into a moment of sublime comedic triumph. This callback elevates the story from a simple anecdote to a perfectly crafted piece of storytelling.
And it’s not just a funny scene; it’s also a character-defining moment. In the face of intense fear, Mike holds on to a key piece of his identity — the funny, shtick-loving dad.
Listen to his story a second time while reading the transcript. Notice how he creates scenes we can easily see ourselves in, and how his vulnerability serves both the tension and the humor. The callback is classic and really ties a bow on the story. Think about your own experiences that were challenging, yet provided an opportunity for growth. We’ve all had them, and in most cases, funny moments were a part of the journey.
Transcript
A few years ago, my daughter was home for the summer from college, and we decided to go to Disneyland for a few days where we did a few things that really brought me joy. One, a bunch of the roller coasters there have cameras that take a picture at the scariest moment.
And my shtick that I’ve done for years is that I like to do a big exaggerated yawn right when they take the picture. So you see them and everyone looks really scared, and there I am in the middle just aggressively bored. And Parker did it with me, which really pleased me very much.
And I learned about her. I learned that one of the things on her bucket list is that she wants to go skydiving one day. And I thought, wow, that makes one of us, weirdo. Because I have a big fear of heights. I’m uncomfortable on a ladder, let alone walking off of an airplane voluntarily. But I took this thought and I stored it away.
And a few days later, I’m chatting with my wife, and somehow the words that came out of my mouth were, “We should all go skydiving for Parker’s birthday,” when what I was thinking was, “I will get out of this somehow.” But her birthday was months away, and I thought this is a problem for Future Mike. And I pushed all my fear down into my bowels.
A few months later, Future Mike wakes up and it’s skydiving day. And I’m Future Mike. And my bowels are very unhappy. But I drive us to the Watsonville Airport and we check in for our skydiving appointment. And there’s a bunch of forms to fill out that very specifically list all the different types of death and dismemberment that you promise not to sue them for.
And then we meet our skydiving partners because when you go skydiving for the first time, you don’t do that by yourself. You don’t even get a parachute. Your skydiving instructor puts a parachute on their back, and they strap you to their front like a big Baby Bjorn. So it’s not like you’re really skydiving, you’re just the luggage of someone who is skydiving.
And we meet our instructors and they’re very chill dudes. Mine is named Stefan. He’s like one part snowboarding instructor, one part Top Gun, and like two parts sunglasses. And we go through the training, which is just like explaining how to be good, polite luggage.
And then they take us out to the runway to see the group in front of us, and a small plane pulls up and two instructors and two skydivers get in the back. And the plane starts to taxi away, and they don’t even bother closing the door. One dude’s leg is just casually dangling out the door.
And this is where I really start to flip out. I mean, there was a leg dangling. I’ve been in airplanes, and normally when my airplanes taxi, I’m not even allowed to have my tray table down, let alone part of me hanging out of the airplane. So I turned to Parker and my wife and I say, “Hey, how are you guys feeling?” And they’re fine. They’re happy, they’re excited, like psychopaths.
And so our plane pulls up next and two instructors get in, and then Parker and I get in, sort of, you know, with our backs to them. We scoop between their legs, like we’re the little spoons. And the plane starts to taxi and it takes off, and I realize that I’m not strapped to Stefan yet. And I ask him in my calmest and most high-pitched voice, I say, “Hey, hey Stefan, don’t you think you should just strap us together?” And Stefan is chill. He says not to worry. I am not chill. I am very worried.
And I’m going through in my head how I’m going to get out of this. I signed a lot of forms. Maybe I gave up the right to do this. I don’t know, maybe luggage doesn’t even have rights. If I don’t do this, will my daughter be disappointed in me? Or am I just going to let peer pressure make me jump out of an airplane?
And as I’m masterminding my escape, Stefan says, “It’s go time!” because that’s how he talks. And Parker’s due to go first. So I see her and her instructor inch towards the door, and it’s surreal. And the door opens, and they’re gone. My daughter, my only child has fallen out of an airplane. I spent 20 years trying to convince her not to run with scissors. And now she has literally tumbled out of an airplane in front of me. And suddenly I am very motivated to skydive.
And so Stefan and I, he sort of scooches and I sort of Samsonite my way over to the door. And then my leg is dangling out that open door. And Stefan pushes us out. And we are tumbling and it is windy and it is noisy and it is terrifying. And we are free-falling for like 30 seconds or a week or something.
And Stefan pulls the parachute ripcord. And he’s also doing his other job which is to video record the whole thing. Like I’m ever going to watch this worst day of my life again. And he gestures to me to smile for the camera, and I look up at the camera and I go… [mimes a huge yawn].
Am I proud of myself for facing my fears and supporting my daughter and skydiving with her? Yeah, sure, whatever, a little bit. But am I really pleased with myself for making that stupid gag while plummeting to earth? Oh my God, yes, so much. That is my favorite. But the next few years for Parker’s birthday, we just sheltered in place and that was way better.
Thank you.
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Is This the Time of Monsters or Miracles? – Angus Hervey at TED2025
/in Democracy, Environment, Government, Humanity, TED Talk/by Mark LovettThe story of our planet’s future is complex, with both positive and negative narratives unfolding. As Angus Hervey explains in his talk at TED2025, global collapse and unprecedented progress exist simultaneously within a state of “contested terrain,” and humanity’s ultimate trajectory is determined by the daily choices and deliberate actions we take in order to create a narrative of constructive solutions over destruction and despair.
From a storytelling perspective, how does Angus get his point across and create impact? One technique that he employs is a non-traditional structure built upon Juxtaposition and Paradox, contrasting a widely told “Story of Collapse” with the often-overlooked “Story of Renewal.”
It’s a technique often used when describing social issues that essentially says, “You may be thinking this story is unfolding in one direction, and while there is truth in that view, there’s an alternate narrative that you also need to consider.”
Let’s take a look at how Angus takes the audience on a factual and emotional journey that ultimately leads to the message his story is designed to convey.
Note how he reveals his profession when he says, “I’m a solutions journalist.” Have you ever heard that phrase before? Probably not, so it becomes a hook, capturing your attention, as we’re curious about anything that’s unfamiliar.
He expands on this theme with, “reporting on stories of progress”, but then turns the narrative on its head by offering, “maybe I was wrong”. After three sentences we want to find out where his story is heading.
He illustrates the idea that he may be wrong by recounting a few present-day problems that we have heard about: the end of rules-based order, power over principle, science under attack, casual cruelty, etc. At this point in the story we feel the weight of the negative narratives that dominate our daily news cycle.
But then he signals a shift in tone by saying, “There is something missing though from this story.”, and goes on to list off a much longer series of positive events and accomplishments that are happening around the world.
This tonal shift is also apparent in his choice of words as he transitions from “monsters,” “vandalism,” and “unraveling” to using positive language, such as “bending the curve,” “protected,” and “breakthroughs”.
It’s a reminder that your word choice matters. So as you craft your story, seek out specific words and phrases that not only describe what you’re thinking, but also contain emotional impact.
Transcript
I’m a solutions journalist. For over a decade, I’ve been reporting on stories of progress.
But in the last few months, I’ve started to think that maybe I was wrong.
Almost a century ago, the Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci, thrown into prison by Mussolini, wrote: “The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.”
Those words are haunting. It feels like he could be speaking to us today. A great unravelling is underway, and you know this story because it is everywhere.
The end of the international rules-based order. Power over principle. Aid budgets obliterated. Science under attack. Putin, Zelensky, Trump, Gaza, hospitals, hostages. Sudan, famine, DRC, rebels, Yemen, Venezuela, Turkey, Hungary, Taiwan. The United States of America. The economic vandalism, the contempt for the rule of law, the casual cruelty, the measles.
All of the values that we assumed were universal — truth, decency, common sense — face not just reversal but violent backlash. Beneath the surface, deeper, more menacing undercurrents: the digital platforms that were supposed to connect us now do the opposite. Algorithms breed paranoia, manufacturing division, drowning truth in deliberate falsehoods.
Carl Sagan warned us about this: an era where people, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, “we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness.”
And as we argue online, planetary crisis: firestorms in our cities, plastic in our blood, the pollinators, the permafrost, the coral reefs, an ice-free Arctic within our lifetimes. The tipping points loom, and Gramsci’s monsters are at the gates, precisely at the moment that we seem least equipped to deal with them.
This is the story of collapse. It is on the front page of all the news sites. It is at the top of all our newsfeeds. We are intimately familiar with its graphic details. You can tune it out. You can turn it off. But you cannot ignore it.
There is something missing though from this story. Is there room in it for the words of people like Hellen Awuor O’ruro, a nurse from Kenya?
[Kenyan Nurse Voiceover]: “What I can say is that the deaths that we used to see from the severe forms of malaria in children under five have greatly gone down. And I think this is being attributed to the presence of this vaccine. The mere fact that we can now reduce these deaths, it’s really great for our community, because no one should lose a child.”
Just over 12 months ago, humanity began the roll-out of the first ever vaccine for malaria. And as you can hear, it’s working. The kids aren’t dying anymore. Already, over 5 million children in 17 countries have been vaccinated. By the end of this decade, the plan is to reach 50 million. 50 million children finally protected against a disease that has been killing children since before we invented writing. And that is not the only story that’s missing.
Since you were last all in this room, 11 countries have eliminated a disease, including Jordan, the first ever country to eliminate leprosy. Eight countries, home to over 100 million children, have either banned or committed to banning corporal punishment in all settings. Zambia, Sierra Leone, and Colombia all banned child marriage. Syria rid itself of a 50-year-old autocratic regime.
Bangladesh’s students sparked democratic change through massive protests. Voters in India, the world’s largest democracy, firmly rejected authoritarianism. England, Ireland, and Canada extended free contraception to more women. Indonesia launched a program to feed all 70 million of its school students. And did you know that Cambodia, once the world’s most mined country, is on its track to be landmine-free within the next few years?
In 2024, fewer people died from natural disasters than almost any year in history. The murder rate in the United States saw its biggest ever 12-month decline, beating the previous record which was set in 2023. And deforestation in the Amazon declined to its fourth lowest level on record, an achievement that gives me more hope for life on Earth than all the rockets that we send to Mars.
Last year, we installed enough solar panels and wind turbines to replace 6% of the world’s fossil fuel electricity. This year, we will install even more. We are bending the curve. Emissions are declining in Europe and America and have finally leveled off in China.
Electric vehicles are biting into oil demand now. Wind, water, and sunshine will overtake coal this year as the world’s leading power source, regardless of what anyone says in the White House.
And thanks to artificial intelligence, we are now starting to see breakthroughs we once thought impossible: the biggest boost to human knowledge since the scientific revolution.
We are determining the structure and interaction of every single one of life’s molecules, inventing extraordinary new enzymes, new drugs, new materials, controlling plasma and nuclear fusion experiments.
Last year, we got a new miracle drug for HIV prevention, mRNA vaccines for cancer. We found the building blocks for life in an asteroid, decoded whale speech, and discovered fractals in the quantum realm.
Did you know that sea turtle populations are increasing around the world? Or that overfishing is declining in the Mediterranean? Or that last year China finished encircling its largest desert with a giant belt of trees, its very own Great Green Wall?
And this year, the United States created its largest conservation corridor, stretching from Utah down to California. These are all victories from the last 12 months, but they happened because people, often small groups of people, fought for years and sometimes decades.
And if we extend our time frame out, even better news: over 4 million square kilometers of the world’s oceans have been protected in the last four years. Air pollution has started to decline. In the last decade, over 250 million children have gained access to clean water, sanitation, and hygiene at school. And in this century—this insane roller coaster of a century—over a billion people have been lifted from extreme poverty.
Deaths from the world’s deadliest infectious diseases have halved, and for the first time in history, over 50% of students receive a high school education. We have no precedent for that: a world where the majority of people can read, write, and calculate, where most humans possess the tools to question authority and determine their own destinies.
So, which one of these stories is true? Is this the long-awaited fall from grace, or are we on a journey to the promised land? Collapse, or renewal?
The answer, of course, is that it’s both. And the truth is that it has always been this way. Even as we rebuilt from the ashes of the Second World War, the shadow of nuclear annihilation loomed. The pandemic devastated our communities, yet our scientific response was revolutionary.
Climate change threatens our future, yet its solution, clean energy, offers us a fairer, better world. This is not an easy paradox to hold in your head or in your heart: the understanding that in the same moment, innocent people are being snatched off the streets and children are dying in air strikes, the malaria wards are emptying across an entire continent, and in a faraway village under a thousand stars, a young girl who would once have been forced into marriage is studying equations under an electric light that wasn’t there a year ago.
Real life isn’t a story. History doesn’t have a moral arc. Progress isn’t a rule. It is contested terrain, fought for daily by millions of people who refuse to give in to despair. Ultimately, none of us know whether we are living in the downswing or the upswing of history.
But I do know that we all get a choice. We, all of us, get to decide which one of these stories we are a part of. We add to their grand weave in the work that we do, in the daily decisions we make about where we put our money, where we put our energy, and our time, in the stories we tell each other, and in the words that come out of our mouths.
It is not enough to believe in something anymore. It is time to do something. Ask yourself, if our worst fears come to pass and the monsters breach the walls, who do you want to be standing next to? The prophets of doom, the cynics who said “we told you so,” or the people who with their eyes wide open, dug the trenches and fetched water.
Both of these stories are true. But the only question that matters now is which one do you belong to?
Back to you…
So how did you feel after hearing Angus’ story? Did your perspective shift from doom to hope? The feeling of hope, or the belief that a better future is possible, is the most common goal when telling an impactful personal story.
The rehearsal process is where you have the opportunity to get feedback from trusted friends as to how they felt after hearing your story. If the impact wasn’t felt, you have more editing to do. But not to worry, as it typically takes a number of draft revisions to hit the reaction you’re looking for.
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Storytelling in Three Steps
Ten Fundamental Story Blocks
The Essential Literary Elements
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