Asplorin' TED Talks I found this:



Ben Zander is the reason I left Phillips Exeter (or, rather, the reason why I left when I did). I've never told anyone this.

Exeter would regularly (at least 1x a week) hold assemblies that were mandatory, where they would bring in some relevant person who could tell their life story, tell us about their company, tell us about their goals, etc. We had this woman who opened a school for Katrina victims, we had the governor of NH, we had lots of interesting (and less interesting) speakers. The piece de resistance, however, was Ben Zander. Once a year they had a BIG FUCKING DEAL speaker and in 2006, it was him.

His assembly lasted 2+hrs, during which I completely was blown away by his passion, enthusiasm, and honesty. I had been feeling such sadness; such loneliness; such confusion; such TORMENT over being in an environment which was crushing my creativity, ripping out my soul every morning I woke up, making me feel like my brain worked too differently to fit in at public school and too differently to be content in what was truly my ideal academic setting. I wanted to disappear. I lived only for my orchestra rehearsals, for concerts in the area, for the every other Saturday contra dances at the Unitarian fellowship.

After Zander gave his talk, I left the room floating. I realized that I would be okay. I could someday be the person I'd always dreamt of being (a runner; a barista; a Manhattanite; a wife to a man who is active, cooks, and owns purple sweatshirts; a mother; a true lover). And I realized that I could do all this while being an Exeter dropout.

So I dropped out.

But only after he conducted our symphony's rehearsal that evening. Immediately after the talk, the head of the music program was giving him a tour of the (ridiculously swanky) music building. I was practicing my cello in one of the smaller practice rooms, and I think there were only 2 or 3 other people practicing with me. He looked in the little glass window at the door of my room and swung the door open, shouted "glorious, beautiful! Beautiful!" and shooed himself out.
At rehearsal that evening he gave us the heart-wrenching story behind Beethoven's Coriolan (the story of Coriolan, not Beethoven) and made us play with more fierce, feverish passion than many of us had ever experienced. It was so cathartic, so euphoric. I was trying to destroy my instrument, I was trying to play the piece as if it were the final judgment of my soul on earth. My cello was just a medium through which all of my energy--positive, negative, sad, pained, angry, hurt, disappointed, optimistic, starving, dying--was flowing out towards others.



I played with him that evening and the next day I went to counseling services and told them to call up my parents, otherwise I'd be taking a train back to NY by myself.

I'm the person I wanted to be, growing more into her with each passing day. I am a runner (on hiatus at the moment?); I was a damn good barista; I am a Columbia Manhattanite to the core; I've loved devotedly two men who are active, cook, and own purple sweatshirts (and I feel like more, and a perfect one, await me in the future); I will be a mother; and, truly truly truly, living by what he preaches, I try to be a true lover in all the things I do.

Benjamin Zander saved my life, but I had forgotten that. The mind blocks out what it wishes not to remember, but I am so glad I've decided to remember this.

Love you.

-Camille