Your elusive creative genius | Elizabeth Gilbert

Translator: Lidija Zajec Reviewer: Nika Kotnik

I am a writer.

Sem pisateljica.

Writing books is my profession but it's more than that, of course.

Pisanje knjig je moj poklic, pa tudi več od tega, seveda.

It is also my great lifelong love and fascination.

Je moja velika ljubezen in fascinacija, ki traja že celo življenje.

And I don't expect that that's ever going to change.

Ne pričakujem, da se bo to kdaj spremenilo.

But, that said, something kind of peculiar has happened recently

Toda, ko smo že pri tem, nekaj čudnega se je pred kratkim zgodilo

in my life and in my career,

v mojem življenju in karieri,

which has caused me to have to recalibrate my whole relationship with this work.

kar je povzročilo, da sem morala ponovno razmisliti o svojem odnosu s tem delom.

And the peculiar thing is that I recently wrote this book,

In ta čudna stvar je, da sem pred kratkim napisala knjigo,

this memoir called "Eat, Pray, Love"

spomine z naslovom "Jej, moli, ljubi",

which, decidedly unlike any of my previous books,

ki je, povsem v nasprotju z mojimi prejšnjimi knjigami

went out in the world for some reason, and became this big,

šla v svet in iz nekega razloga postala velika,

mega-sensation, international bestseller thing.

mega-senzacionalna, mednarodna prodajna uspešnica.

The result of which is that everywhere I go now,

Rezultat tega pa je, da me, kamorkoli zdaj grem,

people treat me like I'm doomed.

ljudje obravnavajo, kot da sem obsojena na neuspeh.

Seriously -- doomed, doomed!

Prav zares: obsojena na neuspeh!

Like, they come up to me now, all worried, and they say,

Na primer, zaskrbljeno pridejo do mene in me vprašajo:

"Aren't you afraid you're never going to be able to top that?

"Ali se ne bojiš, da ne boš nikoli več dosegla česa podobnega?

Aren't you afraid you're going to keep writing for your whole life

Ali se ne bojiš, da boš nadaljevala s pisanjem vse svoje življenje,

and you're never again going to create a book

pa ne boš nikoli več ustvarila knjige,

that anybody in the world cares about at all,

ki bi jo kdorkoli sploh želel prebrati,

ever again?"

kadarkoli, sploh?"

So that's reassuring, you know.

Veste, to je zelo pomirjajoče.

But it would be worse, except for that I happen to remember

Bilo bi huje, če se ne bi spomnila,

that over 20 years ago, when I was a teenager,

da sem se še kot najstnica, pred več kot dvajsetimi leti,

when I first started telling people that I wanted to be a writer,

ko sem začela govoriti ljudem, da želim biti pisateljica,

I was met with this same sort of fear-based reaction.

srečala s takimi, na strahu temelječimi reakcijami.

And people would say, "Aren't you afraid you're never going to have any success?

Ljudje so me spraševali: "Ali se ne bojiš, da ne boš nikoli uspela?

Aren't you afraid the humiliation of rejection will kill you?

Se ne bojiš, da te bo ponižanje zavračanja ubilo?

Aren't you afraid that you're going to work your whole life at this craft

Se ne bojiš, da boš celo življenje posvetila temu delu,

and nothing's ever going to come of it

pa ne bo nikoli nič od tega?

and you're going to die on a scrap heap of broken dreams

In boš umrla na kupu razblinjenih sanj

with your mouth filled with bitter ash of failure?"

in polna grenkobe poraza?"

(Laughter)

(Smeh)

Like that, you know.

Pa take stvari, saj veste.

The answer -- the short answer to all those questions is, "Yes."

Odgovor na vsa ta vprašanja, kratek odgovor, je "Ja."

Yes, I'm afraid of all those things.

Ja, bojim se vseh teh stvari.

And I always have been.

Vedno sem se jih bala.

And I'm afraid of many, many more things besides

In strah me je tudi veliko drugih stvari,

that people can't even guess at,

ki jih nihče ne bi nikoli uganil,

like seaweed and other things that are scary.

kot so na primer morske alge in druge strašljive stvari.

But, when it comes to writing,

Toda, ko razmišljam o pisanju,

the thing that I've been sort of thinking about lately, and wondering about lately,

se zadnje čase vedno bolj sprašujem,

is why?

zakaj?

You know, is it rational?

Je to racionalno?

Is it logical that anybody should be expected

Je logično, da se od nekoga pričakuje,

to be afraid of the work that they feel they were put on this Earth to do.

da ga bo strah dela, za katerega meni, da je njegovo življenjsko poslanstvo.

And what is it specifically about creative ventures

In kaj povzroča, da nas ravno pri kreativnem udejstvovanju

that seems to make us really nervous about each other's mental health

skrbi glede našega duševnega zdravja,

in a way that other careers kind of don't do, you know?

bolj kot pri kateremkoli drugem poklicu?

Like my dad, for example, was a chemical engineer

Moj oče, na primer, je bil inženir kemije

and I don't recall once in his 40 years of chemical engineering

in ne spomnim se, da bi ga v 40 letih kariere

anybody asking him if he was afraid to be a chemical engineer, you know?

kdo povprašal, če ga je strah biti kemični inženir, veste?

"That chemical-engineering block, John, how's it going?"

"Tvoja blokada kemičnega inženirstva, John, kako je kaj z njo?"

It just didn't come up like that, you know?

Nikoli ni prišlo do takih vprašanj.

But to be fair, chemical engineers as a group

Če pošteno pomislimo, kemični inženirji kot poklicna kategorija

haven't really earned a reputation over the centuries

si skozi stoletja niso prislužili slovesa

for being alcoholic manic-depressives.

alkoholikov in maničnih depresivcev.

(Laughter)

(Smeh)

We writers, we kind of do have that reputation,

Mi pisatelji pa nekako imamo tak sloves,

and not just writers, but creative people across all genres,

pa ne le pisatelji, pač pa kreativni ljudje vseh vrst

it seems, have this reputation for being enormously mentally unstable.

slovijo po tem, da so precej duševno neuravnovešeni.

And all you have to do is look at the very grim death count

Treba je le pogledati zelo mračno statistiko smrti

in the 20th century alone, of really magnificent creative minds

že samo v 20 stoletju; velikih kreativnih umov,

who died young and often at their own hands, you know?

ki so umrli mladi in pogosto od lastne roke.

And even the ones who didn't literally commit suicide

Pa tudi za tiste, ki niso naredili samomora,

seem to be really undone by their gifts, you know.

se zdi, da so prave razvaline zaradi svojega talenta.

Norman Mailer, just before he died, last interview, he said,

Norman Mailer je pred smrtjo, v zadnjem intervjuju rekel:

"Every one of my books has killed me a little more."

"Prav vsaka moja knjiga me je ubila še malo bolj."

An extraordinary statement to make about your life's work.

Nenavadna izjava glede njegovega življenjskega dela.

But we don't even blink when we hear somebody say this,

Ampak niti trenemo ne z očmi, ko kdo to reče,

because we've heard that kind of stuff for so long

ker smo podobne stvari slišali že tako pogosto

and somehow we've completely internalized and accepted collectively

in smo zato povsem ponotranjili in kolektivno sprejeli

this notion that creativity and suffering are somehow inherently linked

premiso, da sta kreativnosti in trpljenje neločljivo povezana

and that artistry, in the end, will always ultimately lead to anguish.

in da nas bo umetniško ustvarjanje na koncu prignalo do agonije.

And the question that I want to ask everybody here today

Danes bi vas vse tu zbrane rada vprašala:

is are you guys all cool with that idea?

Se vam zdi ta ideja v redu?

Are you comfortable with that?

Se počutite v redu ob tem?

Because you look at it even from an inch away and, you know --

Ker, če jo pogledate z malo distance, veste -

I'm not at all comfortable with that assumption.

meni ta predpostavka niti malo ni všeč.

I think it's odious.

Mislim, da je odvratna.

And I also think it's dangerous,

In mislim tudi, da je nevarna.

and I don't want to see it perpetuated into the next century.

In nočem, da se nadaljuje še v naslednje stoletje.

I think it's better if we encourage our great creative minds to live.

Mislim, da je bolje, da spodbujamo naše kreativce k življenju.

And I definitely know that, in my case -- in my situation --

In prepričana sem, da bi bilo v mojem primeru - v moji situaciji -

it would be very dangerous for me to start sort of leaking down that dark path

zelo nevarno zame, če bi se spustila po tej temni poti

of assumption,

domnevanja,

particularly given the circumstance that I'm in right now in my career.

še zlasti glede na trenutne okoliščine moje kariere.

Which is -- you know, like check it out,

Torej, pomislite,

I'm pretty young, I'm only about 40 years old.

sem še relativno mlada; imam le okoli 40 let.

I still have maybe another four decades of work left in me.

Pred seboj imam mogoče še štiri desetletja dela.

And it's exceedingly likely that anything I write from this point forward

In zelo verjetno je, da bo svet vse, kar bom napisala od te točke naprej,

is going to be judged by the world as the work that came after

ocenjeval kot delo, ki je prišlo

the freakish success of my last book, right?

po zastrašujočem uspehu moje zadnje knjige, kajne?

I should just put it bluntly, because we're all sort of friends here now --

Če povemo kar naravnost, saj smo vsi nekako prijatelji tule -

it's exceedingly likely that my greatest success is behind me.

zelo verjetno je, da je moj največji uspeh že za mano.

So Jesus, what a thought!

Jezus, kakšna misel!

That's the kind of thought that could lead a person

To je misel tiste vrste, ki lahko pripravi človeka,

to start drinking gin at nine o'clock in the morning,

da začne piti gin ob devetih zjutraj

and I don't want to go there.

in ne želim pristati tam.

(Laughter)

(Smeh)

I would prefer to keep doing this work that I love.

Raje bi nadaljevala z delom, ki ga imam tako rada.

And so, the question becomes, how?

Zdaj pridemo do vprašanja, kako?

And so, it seems to me, upon a lot of reflection,

Zdi se mi, po veliko razmišljanja,

that the way that I have to work now, in order to continue writing,

da moram zdaj, da bi lahko nadaljevala s pisanjem,

is that I have to create some sort of protective psychological construct, right?

ustvariti nek psihološki zaščitni konstrukt, razumete?

I have to sort of find some way to have a safe distance

Najti moram način, ki mi bo pomagal držati distanco

between me, as I am writing, and my very natural anxiety

med menoj, ko pišem in med mojo zelo naravno zaskrbljenostjo

about what the reaction to that writing is going to be, from now on.

glede tega, kakšnih reakcij bo deležno moje pisanje od zdaj naprej.

And, as I've been looking, over the last year,

Ko sem v zadnjem letu

for models for how to do that,

iskala kak vzor, kako to doseči,

I've been sort of looking across time,

sem pogledala tudi v zgodovino,

and I've been trying to find other societies

skušala sem poiskati druge družbe,

to see if they might have had better and saner ideas than we have

da bi ugotovila, če so morda oni odkrili boljši in bolj zdrav način od nas,

about how to help creative people

kako pomagati kreativnim ljudem,

sort of manage the inherent emotional risks of creativity.

spopasti se z neizogibnim čustvenim tveganjem kreativnosti.

And that search has led me to ancient Greece and ancient Rome.

Moje raziskovanje me je vodilo v Antično Grčijo in Antični Rim.

So stay with me, because it does circle around and back.

Malce potrpite, zgodba gre naokoli, ampak se bo vrnila.

But, ancient Greece and ancient Rome --

V Antični Grčiji in Rimu

people did not happen to believe that creativity

ljudje niso verjeli, da kreativnost

came from human beings back then, OK?

prihaja iz človeških bitij.

People believed that creativity was this divine attendant spirit

Verjeli so, da je kreativnost nek božanski spremljevalni duh,

that came to human beings from some distant and unknowable source,

ki je prišel k človeškim bitjem iz nekega daljnega in nepoznanega vira

for distant and unknowable reasons.

iz oddaljenih in neznanih razlogov.

The Greeks famously called these divine attendant spirits of creativity "daemons."

Grki so jim rekli "demoni".

Socrates, famously, believed that he had a daemon

Znano je, da je Sokrat verjel, da ima demona,

who spoke wisdom to him from afar.

ki mu iz daljave govori modrosti.

The Romans had the same idea,

Rimljani so razmišljali podobno,

but they called that sort of disembodied creative spirit a genius.

toda temu netelesnemu kreativnemu duhu so rekli "genij".

Which is great, because the Romans did not actually think

To se mi zdi super; Rimljani torej niso verjeli,

that a genius was a particularly clever individual.

da je genij neka zelo bistra oseba.

They believed that a genius was this, sort of magical divine entity,

Verjeli so, da je genij neke vrste čarobna božanska entiteta,

who was believed to literally live in the walls of an artist's studio,

ki dobesedno živi v stenah umetnikovega ateljeja,

kind of like Dobby the house elf,

kot kakšen hišni vilinec,

and who would come out

in pride na plano

and sort of invisibly assist the artist with their work

ter nekako nevidno pomaga umetniku pri njegovem delu

and would shape the outcome of that work.

in vpliva na rezultat njegovega dela.

So brilliant -- there it is, right there, that distance that I'm talking about --

Odlično! Pa smo jo našli, to distanco, o kateri sem govorila,

that psychological construct to protect you from the results of your work.

ta psihološki konstrukt, ki te zaščiti pred rezultati tvojega dela.

And everyone knew that this is how it functioned, right?

In vsi so vedeli, da to tako deluje.

So the ancient artist was protected from certain things,

Starodavni umetniki so bili zaščiteni pred nekaterimi stvarmi

like, for example, too much narcissism, right?

kot, na primer, preveč narcisizma.

If your work was brilliant, you couldn't take all the credit for it,

Če je bilo tvoje delo briljantno, si nisi mogel pripisati vseh zaslug,

everybody knew that you had this disembodied genius who had helped you.

vsi so namreč vedeli, da ti je tvoj breztelesni genij pomagal.

If your work bombed, not entirely your fault, you know?

Če je bilo tvoje delo zanič, tudi ni bila v celoti tvoja krivda, ne?

Everyone knew your genius was kind of lame.

Vsi so vedeli, da je tvoj genij malce zanič.

(Laughter)

(Smeh)

And this is how people thought about creativity in the West

In tako so ljudje na zahodu razmišljali o kreativnosti

for a really long time.

zelo dolgo časa.

And then the Renaissance came and everything changed,

Potem pa je prišla renesansa in vse se je spremenilo,

and we had this big idea, and the big idea was,

pojavila se je velika ideja,

let's put the individual human being at the center of the universe

ki je postavila posamezno človeško bitje v center vesolja,

above all gods and mysteries,

nad vse bogove in skrivnosti,

and there's no more room for mystical creatures

in ni bilo več prostora za skrivnostna bitja,

who take dictation from the divine.

ki jim narekujejo božanske sile.

And it's the beginning of rational humanism,

To je začetek racionalnega humanizma,

and people started to believe that creativity

ljudje začeli verjeti, da kreativnost

came completely from the self of the individual.

izvira izključno iz posameznika samega.

And for the first time in history,

Prvič v zgodovini se je zgodilo,

you start to hear people referring to this or that artist as being a genius,

da so ljudje začeli govoriti za nekatere umetnike, da so geniji

rather than having a genius.

in ne več, da imajo genija.

And I got to tell you, I think that was a huge error.

Moram vam povedati, meni se zdi to velika napaka.

You know, I think that allowing somebody, one mere person

Veste, zdi se mi, da to, da dovolimo, da ena sama oseba...

to believe that he or she is like, the vessel,

da verjamemo, da je on ali ona rezervoar,

you know, like the font and the essence and the source

kot kak vodnjak in bistvo in izvor

of all divine, creative, unknowable, eternal mystery

vsega božanskega, kreativnega, neznanega, večne skrivnosti;

is just a smidge too much responsibility to put on one fragile, human psyche.

da je to le malce preveč odgovornosti za eno samo, krhko človeško psiho.

It's like asking somebody to swallow the sun.

Kot da bi nekoga prosili, naj sklati zvezde z neba.

It just completely warps and distorts egos,

Povsem zmaliči ego človeka.

and it creates all these unmanageable expectations about performance.

In ustvarja neobvladljiva pričakovanja glede tega, kako se boš odrezal.

And I think the pressure of that

Mislim, da je to ta pritisk,

has been killing off our artists for the last 500 years.

ki ubija naše umetnike zadnjih 500 let.

And, if this is true,

Če je to res

and I think it is true,

in mislim, da je,

the question becomes, what now?

je čas, da se vprašamo: kaj zdaj?

Can we do this differently?

Lahko kaj spremenimo v zvezi s tem?

Maybe go back to some more ancient understanding

Mogoče se lahko vrnemo nazaj k nekaterim starodavnim razumevanjem

about the relationship between humans and the creative mystery.

o dnosa med človekom in kreativno skrivnostjo.

Maybe not.

Mogoče pa tudi ne.

Maybe we can't just erase 500 years of rational humanistic thought

Mogoče ne moremo kar izbrisati 500 let racionalne humanistične misli

in one 18 minute speech.

v enem 18 minutnem govoru.

And there's probably people in this audience

In verjetno je kar nekaj ljudi tu v občinstvu,

who would raise really legitimate scientific suspicions

ki bi ugovarjali z legitimnimi znanstvenimi pomisleki

about the notion of, basically, fairies

glede ideje o, več ali manj, vilah,

who follow people around rubbing fairy juice on their projects and stuff.

ki sledijo ljudem in vlivajo vilinski sok na njihove projekte in podobne stvari.

I'm not, probably, going to bring you all along with me on this.

Najbrž vas ne bom vseh prepričala glede tega.

But the question that I kind of want to pose is --

Vseeno pa želim zastaviti naslednje vprašanje:

you know, why not?

Zakaj pa ne?

Why not think about it this way?

Zakaj ne bi razmišljali na ta način?

Because it makes as much sense as anything else I have ever heard

Je smiselno prav toliko kot karkoli drugega, kar sem kdaj slišala

in terms of explaining the utter maddening capriciousness

o razlagi te nore muhavosti

of the creative process.

kreativnega procesa.

A process which, as anybody who has ever tried to make something --

Proces, ki, kot vedo vsi, ki so kdaj skušali nekaj ustvariti -

which is to say basically everyone here ---

to pomeni verjetno vsi tukaj,

knows does not always behave rationally.

se ne obnaša vedno racionalno.

And, in fact, can sometimes feel downright paranormal.

Pravzaprav se ga včasih občuti kot naravnost nadnaravnega.

I had this encounter recently

Pred kratkim sem bila na srečanju,

where I met the extraordinary American poet Ruth Stone,

kjer sem spoznala izjemno ameriško pesnico Ruth Stone,

who's now in her 90s, but she's been a poet her entire life

ki je zdaj v svojih 90ih in je pesnica že celo življenje.

and she told me that when she was growing up in rural Virginia,

Povedala mi je, da je v času odraščanja v Virginiji,

she would be out working in the fields,

ko je delala na njivah,

and she said she would feel and hear a poem

včasih začutila in slišala pesem,

coming at her from over the landscape.

ki se ji je približevala čez pokrajino.

And she said it was like a thunderous train of air.

Rekla je, da je bilo kot gromoglasni vlak iz zraka.

And it would come barreling down at her over the landscape.

In na vso silo je drvelo k njej čez pokrajino.

And she felt it coming, because it would shake the earth under her feet.

Čutila je, da prihaja, ker se je tresla zemlja pod njenimi nogami.

She knew that she had only one thing to do at that point,

Vedela je, da takrat lahko stori le eno;

and that was to, in her words, "run like hell."

da teče, kot bi šlo za življenje.

And she would run like hell to the house

Tako je tekla do hiše,

and she would be getting chased by this poem,

pesem pa se je podila za njo,

and the whole deal was that she had to get to a piece of paper and a pencil

in treba je bilo priti do papirja in svinčnika

fast enough so that when it thundered through her, she could collect it

dovolj hitro, da je pesem, ko jo je dohitela in oddrvela skoznjo,

and grab it on the page.

pograbila in jo zapisala.

And other times she wouldn't be fast enough,

Včasih se je zgodilo, da ni bila dovolj hitra,

so she'd be running and running, and she wouldn't get to the house

da je tekla in tekla, pa ni prišla do hiše

and the poem would barrel through her and she would miss it

in pesem je odtopotala skoznjo in jo je zamudila;

and she said it would continue on across the landscape,

rekla je, da je neulovljena pesem nadaljevala svojo pot

looking, as she put it "for another poet."

in iskala "nekega drugega pesnika".

And then there were these times --

Včasih pa -

this is the piece I never forgot --

tega dela ne bom nikoli pozabila -

she said that there were moments where she would almost miss it, right?

rekla je, da so bili trenutki, ko je skoraj zamudila pesem.

So, she's running to the house and she's looking for the paper

Torej, teče proti hiši, išče papir

and the poem passes through her,

in pesem gre skoznjo,

and she grabs a pencil just as it's going through her,

ona pograbi svinčnik ravno ko gre skoznjo,

and then she said, it was like she would reach out with her other hand

potem je rekla, da je bilo kot da bi s prosto roko segla po njej

and she would catch it.

in jo ujela.

She would catch the poem by its tail,

Ujela jo je za rep

and she would pull it backwards into her body

in jo potegnila nazaj v svoje telo

as she was transcribing on the page.

in hkrati jo je zapisovala.

And in these instances, the poem would come up on the page perfect and intact

V takih primerih je bila pesem zapisana popolna in nedotaknjena

but backwards, from the last word to the first.

samo od zadaj; od zadnje besede do prve.

(Laughter)

(Smeh)

So when I heard that I was like -- that's uncanny,

Ko sem to slišala, sem si rekla - to je malce strašljivo,

that's exactly what my creative process is like.

natanko tak je moj kreativni proces.

(Laughter)

(Smeh)

That's not at all what my creative process is -- I'm not the pipeline!

Ni res, moj kreativni proces ne izgleda tako - nisem medij!

I'm a mule, and the way that I have to work

Sem garač in moje delo zahteva,

is I have to get up at the same time every day,

da moram vsak dan vstati ob istem času,

and sweat and labor and barrel through it really awkwardly.

da se potim, da se mučim in se prav nerodno prebijam skozi.

But even I, in my mulishness,

Toda tudi jaz, v vsem svojem garaštvu,

even I have brushed up against that thing, at times.

celo jaz sem se včasih srečala s takimi stvarmi.

And I would imagine that a lot of you have too.

In mislim si, da se je veliko vas ravno tako.

You know, even I have had work or ideas come through me from a source

Veste, tudi meni se je zgodilo, da je kakšna ideja prišla skozi mene iz vira,

that I honestly cannot identify.

ki ga, iskreno, ne morem identificirati.

And what is that thing?

In kaj je ta reč?

And how are we to relate to it in a way that will not make us lose our minds,

In kako naj se povezujemo z njo, da ne bomo spotoma izgubili pameti,

but, in fact, might actually keep us sane?

ampak bomo, morda prav zaradi nje, ostali pri zdravi pameti?

And for me, the best contemporary example that I have of how to do that

Zame je najboljši vzor takega početja dandanes

is the musician Tom Waits,

glasbenik Tom Waits,

who I got to interview several years ago on a magazine assignment.

ki sem ga pred precej leti intervjuvala za neko revijo.

And we were talking about this,

Govorila sva o tem

and you know, Tom, for most of his life, he was pretty much the embodiment

in saj veste, Tom je bil večino svojega življenja pravo utelešenje

of the tormented contemporary modern artist,

trpečega sodobnega umetnika,

trying to control and manage and dominate

ki skuša nadzirati, upravljati in vladati

these sort of uncontrollable creative impulses

divjim kreativnim vzgibom,

that were totally internalized.

ki so povsem ponotranjeni.

But then he got older, he got calmer,

Potem se je postaral, postal je mirnejši

and one day he was driving down the freeway in Los Angeles,

in nekega dne med vožnjo po avtocesti v Los Angelesu

and this is when it all changed for him.

se je zanj vse spremenilo.

And he's speeding along, and all of a sudden

Hitro vozi in kar naenkrat

he hears this little fragment of melody,

sliši male delčke melodije,

that comes into his head as inspiration often comes, elusive and tantalizing,

ki prihaja v njegove misli, kot navdih pogosto pride, izmuzljiv in dražeč,

and he wants it, it's gorgeous,

želi si to melodijo, čudovita je,

and he longs for it, but he has no way to get it.

hrepeni po njej, ampak ne more si je zapisat.

He doesn't have a piece of paper, or a pencil, or a tape recorder.

Nima papirja niti svinčnika niti snemalnika.

So he starts to feel all of that old anxiety start to rise in him

Začenja čutiti običajno tesnobo, ki se dviguje v njem,

like, "I'm going to lose this thing,

ko si misli: "Izgubil bom to reč

and I'll be be haunted by this song forever.

in ta pesem me bo preganjala za vedno.

I'm not good enough, and I can't do it."

Nisem dovolj dober in ne zmorem."

And instead of panicking, he just stopped.

Toda namesto paničarjenja, se je samo ustavil.

He just stopped that whole mental process and he did something completely novel.

Ustavil je celotni mentalni proces in je naredil nekaj čisto novega.

He just looked up at the sky, and he said,

Pogledal je navzgor v nebo in rekel:

"Excuse me, can you not see that I'm driving?"

"Oprostite, res ne vidite, da vozim?"

(Laughter)

(Smeh)

"Do I look like I can write down a song right now?

"Vam izgleda, da si lahko zdajle zapišem pesem?

If you really want to exist, come back at a more opportune moment

Če hočeš res obstajati, pridi nazaj ob bolj primernem trenutku,

when I can take care of you.

ko bom lahko poskrbel zate.

Otherwise, go bother somebody else today.

Če ne, pa pojdi težit komu drugemu danes.

Go bother Leonard Cohen."

Pojdi nadlegovat Leonarda Cohena."

And his whole work process changed after that.

Njegov celotni proces dela se je takrat spremenil.

Not the work, the work was still oftentimes as dark as ever.

Pravzaprav ne delo, to je bilo še vedno pogosto enako temačno.

But the process, and the heavy anxiety around it

Pač pa proces in močna tesnoba okoli njega

was released when he took the genie, the genius out of him

je popustila, ko je vzel duha, genija, izven sebe,

where it was causing nothing but trouble, and released it back where it came from,

kjer je povzročal le težave, in ga spustil nazaj tja, od koder izvira

and realized that this didn't have to be this internalized, tormented thing.

in ko je spoznal, da ni nujno, da gre za ponotranjen, mučen proces.

It could be this peculiar, wondrous, bizarre collaboration,

Lahko gre tudi za nenavadno in čudaško sodelovanje,

kind of conversation between Tom and the strange, external thing

nekakšen pogovor med Tomom in to čudno, zunanjo zadevo,

that was not quite Tom.

ki ni bila Tom.

When I heard that story, it started to shift a little bit

Ko sem slišala to zgodbo, se je tudi pri meni

the way that I worked too, and this idea already saved me once.

začel spreminjati način dela in to me je enkrat že rešilo.

It saved me when I was in the middle of writing "Eat, Pray, Love,"

Rešilo me je, ko sem bila sredi pisanja knjige "Jej, moli, ljubi"

and I fell into one of those sort of pits of despair

in sem zapadla v enega tistih brezen brezupa,

that we all fall into when we're working on something and it's not coming

kamor vsi padamo, ko delamo in nam ne gre od rok,

and you start to think this is going to be a disaster, the worst book ever written.

ko si začnemo mislit, da bo vse skupaj ena polomija, da bo to najslabša knjiga.

Not just bad, but the worst book ever written.

Ne samo slaba, najslabša knjiga sploh.

And I started to think I should just dump this project.

Začela sem že razmišljati, da bi morala opustiti ta projekt.

But then I remembered Tom talking to the open air

Potem pa sem se spomnila Toma, kako govori zraku nad seboj

and I tried it.

in sem poskusila tudi sama.

So I just lifted my face up from the manuscript

Dvignila sem obraz z rokopisa

and I directed my comments to an empty corner of the room.

in naslovila svoje pritožbe praznemu kotu sobe.

And I said aloud, "Listen you, thing,

Naglas sem rekla: "Poslušaj, ti,

you and I both know that if this book isn't brilliant

oba veva: če tale knjiga ne bo odlična,

that is not entirely my fault, right?

ne bo samo moja krivda, ne?

Because you can see that I am putting everything I have into this,

Ker kot vidiš, se trudim po svojih najboljših močeh,

I don't have any more than this.

in to je to, več ne gre.

If you want it to be better, you've got to show up and do your part of the deal.

Če želiš, da bo knjiga boljša, se moraš prikazat in opravit svoj del posla.

But if you don't do that, you know what, the hell with it.

Če ne boš, veš kaj, potem naj gre vse k vragu.

I'm going to keep writing anyway because that's my job.

Jaz bom še naprej pisala, saj to je moja služba.

And I would please like the record to reflect today

Hočem pa, da gre danes v zapisnik,

that I showed up for my part of the job."

da sem prišla in opravila svoj del posla."

(Laughter)

(Smeh)

Because --

Ker -

(Applause)

(Aplavz)

Because in the end it's like this, OK --

Ker na koncu koncev, je to tako:

centuries ago in the deserts of North Africa,

stoletja nazaj so se v puščavah Severne Afrike

people used to gather for these moonlight dances of sacred dance and music

ljudje zbirali in plesali svete plese ter igrali glasbo v mesečini.

that would go on for hours and hours, until dawn.

To je trajalo ure in ure, vse tja do zore.

They were always magnificent, because the dancers were professionals

Vedno je bilo veličastno, saj so bili plesalci profesionalci

and they were terrific, right?

in bili so odlični.

But every once in a while, very rarely, something would happen,

Toda na vsake toliko časa, zelo redko, se je nekaj zgodilo

and one of these performers would actually become transcendent.

in en od nastopajočih je postal transcendenten.

And I know you know what I'm talking about,

Vem, da veste o čem govorim,

because I know you've all seen, at some point in your life,

ker vem, da ste vsi že kdaj v svojem življenju videli

a performance like this.

tak nastop.

It was like time would stop,

Bilo je, kot bi se čas ustavil

and the dancer would sort of step through some kind of portal

in plesalec, kot da bi prestopil nek prag,

and he wasn't doing anything different

pa ne, da bi počel karkoli drugačnega

than he had ever done, 1,000 nights before,

od tega, kar je počel 1000 noči pred tem,

but everything would align.

ampak vse se je nekako poklopilo.

And all of a sudden, he would no longer appear to be merely human.

Kar naenkrat se je zazdelo, da ni več samo človek.

He would be lit from within, and lit from below

Bil je kot osvetljen od znotraj in od spodaj

and all lit up on fire with divinity.

in kot napolnjen z ognjem božanskosti.

And when this happened, back then,

In ko se je to zgodilo, takrat,

people knew it for what it was, you know, they called it by its name.

so ljudje vedeli, kaj se dogaja in so to tudi poimenovali.

They would put their hands together and they would start to chant,

Sklenili so roke in so začeli vzklikati:

"Allah, Allah, Allah, God, God, God."

"Alah, Alah, Alah, Bog, Bog, Bog."

That's God, you know.

To je Bog, veste.

Curious historical footnote:

Ena zanimiva zgodovinska opomba:

when the Moors invaded southern Spain, they took this custom with them

Ko so Mavri zavzeli južno Španijo, so ta običaj prinesli s seboj,

and the pronunciation changed over the centuries

skozi stoletja pa se je izgovorjava spremenila

from "Allah, Allah, Allah," to "Olé, olé, olé,"

iz "Alah, Alah, Alah" v "Olé, olé, olé",

which you still hear in bullfights and in flamenco dances.

kar še vedno slišimo na bikoborbah in na plesih flamenka.

In Spain, when a performer has done something impossible and magic,

V Španiji, kadar nastopajoči naredi nekaj nemogočega in magičnega,

"Allah, olé, olé, Allah, magnificent, bravo,"

"Alah, olé, olé, Alah; čudovito, bravo,"

incomprehensible, there it is -- a glimpse of God.

nekaj nedoumljivega, kot bi za hip uzrli Boga.

Which is great, because we need that.

To je super, ker to potrebujemo.

But, the tricky bit comes the next morning,

Toda, kaj se zgodi naslednje jutro,

for the dancer himself, when he wakes up and discovers

za plesalca, ki se zbudi in ugotovi,

that it's Tuesday at 11 a.m., and he's no longer a glimpse of God.

da je torek, ura je 11 in on ni več odblesk Boga.

He's just an aging mortal with really bad knees,

Spet je le človek, ki se stara, ki je umrljiv in ki ga bolijo kolena

and maybe he's never going to ascend to that height again.

in morda nikoli več ne bo dosegel tega, kar se je zgodilo včeraj.

And maybe nobody will ever chant God's name again as he spins,

In mogoče nihče ne bo nikoli več uzrl boga v njegovem plesu.

and what is he then to do with the rest of his life?

Kako naj sploh preživi preostanek svojega življenja?

This is hard.

To je težko.

This is one of the most painful reconciliations to make

To je ena najbolj bolečih stvari, ki jih moramo sprejeti

in a creative life.

v kreativnem življenju.

But maybe it doesn't have to be quite so full of anguish

Morda pa ni nujno, da je ta proces tako poln tesnobe,

if you never happened to believe, in the first place,

če že od začetka ne verjameš,

that the most extraordinary aspects of your being came from you.

da najbolj izjemno, kar nosiš v sebi, prihaja iz tebe.

But maybe if you just believed that they were on loan to you

Bilo bi lažje, če bi verjeli, da ti je dano le na pósodo

from some unimaginable source for some exquisite portion of your life

od nekega nepredstavljivega vira za čudovit del tvojega življenja,

to be passed along when you're finished,

in ki bo potem, ko ne bo več pri tebi,

with somebody else.

šlo k nekomu drugemu.

And, you know, if we think about it this way, it starts to change everything.

Veste, če začneš takole razmišljati, se vse spremeni.

This is how I've started to think,

Tako sem začela razmišljati tudi jaz

and this is certainly how I've been thinking in the last few months

in definitivno tako razmišljam v zadnjih nekaj mesecih,

as I've been working on the book that will soon be published,

odkar delam na knjigi, ki bo kmalu objavljena,

as the dangerously, frighteningly over-anticipated follow up

kot nevarno, zastrašujoče težko pričakovano nadaljevanje

to my freakish success.

mojega norega uspeha.

And what I have to sort of keep telling myself

In kar si moram stalno ponavljati,

when I get really psyched out about that is don't be afraid.

ko začnem paničarit glede vsega tega, je, naj me ne bo strah.

Don't be daunted. Just do your job.

Ne bodi prestrašena. Samo opravi svoje delo.

Continue to show up for your piece of it, whatever that might be.

Nadaljuj z opravljanjem svojega dela naloge, karkoli že ta je.

If your job is to dance, do your dance.

Če si plesalec, odpleši svoj ples.

If the divine, cockeyed genius assigned to your case

Če se bo božanski genij, ki ti je dodeljen

decides to let some sort of wonderment be glimpsed, for just one moment

odločil, da pokaže to čarobnost samo za trenutek,

through your efforts, then "Olé!"

skozi tvoje prizadevanje, potem "Olé!"

And if not, do your dance anyhow.

In če ne, prav tako odpleši svoj ples.

And "Olé!" to you, nonetheless.

In "Olé!" kljub temu.

I believe this and I feel that we must teach it.

Verjamem v to in mislim, da je to treba učiti.

"Olé!" to you, nonetheless,

"Olé!" kljub vsemu,

just for having the sheer human love and stubbornness

že samo zato, ker zaradi same ljubezni in vztrajnosti

to keep showing up.

nadaljuješ svoje delo.

Thank you.

Hvala.

(Applause)

(Aplavz)

Thank you.

Hvala.

(Applause)

(Aplavz)

June Cohen: Olé!

June Cohen: Olé!

(Applause)

(Aplavz)