Mister Toastmaster, Fellow members, Guests
An ice-breaker ought to be an easy speech. After all, it all revolves around a single question : Who am I? It's all about stuff I know, or I should know. It needs no preparation, anyone could provide an impromptu answer to that question. If I asked Chris, Patricia, Richard "Who are you?", I'm sure they would provide plenty of information. "I'm Chris, I'm so and so years old, I live in Madrid, I'm a trainer or a consultant in business english proficiency and so on and so forth.".
Many many years ago, during the unblemished innocence of childhood, the answer would've probably been quite different. "I'm Chris. I like to play soccer. Would you like to play with me? Would you like to be my friend?"
As we grow up, we begin to lose perspective. As Sant-Exuperi wrote in his masterpiece, if a kid comes up to us and says that he's seen a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with flowers in the windows and doves on the roof and we wouldn't know what he's talking about. Now if he instead said "I've seen a $400,000 house", that would surely make quite an impression on us.
We as grown ups have become accustomed to seeing the world through facts and figures. But //should you really care how old I am, what I do, where I live? Well, I guess only if you're an insurance agent.
We need to pause from time to time and be reminded the secret that the fox shares with the little prince on his departure : " It's only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye".
So an ice-breaker actually turns to be pretty bloody difficult speech. It's difficult because it's easy to answer it through a bunch of banalities, to get lost in the irrelevant details. Details that you'll probably forget immediately anyway.
In every person's life, there are defining moments that shine through the mist of time as bright flashes of light. Every one of us has these moments, each containing a droplet of memory, frozen in time and ingrained in the tapestry of our beings. These moments are the ones that makes us what we are, and I'd like to share with you some of these moments.
After spending my early childhood in Spain, I went back to Bulgaria and had to adjust to quite a different regime. There were circumstances under which one had to be very careful about what you spoke and to whom you spoke. I remember this girl - Cristina - one of the best students in our class. At that time, in order to gain access to a university, you not only had to have good grades, but also to be a member of the komsomol - the youth wing of the communist party. During the membership interview, she was asked if she was happy to join. She had answered "Why should I be happy?". (P) I saw her later crying in the schoolyard. She had been rejected just because of that single answer. There would be no university for her, nor any kind of job matching her abilities.
1986 finds me in Noordwijk, Holland, representing my country in the Voice of the Children International Conference.
A gathering of children from around the world, one or two from each participating country, meeting with a dozen Nobel Prize Winners and sharing views about how to solve the problems of our world. I remember the friendship, the songs, the candid approach to problems, the long nights working together polishing the book we all wrote. I remember an israleli boy - Aaron - singing and working with muslim kids. And I also remember the last glimpse of Sally, the wonderful girl from Hong Kong, waving goodbye from the bus and whispering I love you. There and many other names I will carry with me forever.
Fast forward two years. The bulgarian regime is in its death throes, but not quite dead yet. Of course we didn't know that, back then. Gorbachev was pushing the perestroika and, in our country, nothing was happening. Actually, pretendstroika was happening.
Never to miss a chance to open my big mouth, I speak before the regional assembly of the bulgarian Komsomol. I critisize the role of the communists in the education system, the interference of political events and activities in class, and all of this right in front of their noses. After I leave the floor, the pounding begins. One after another, they attacked everything from my appearance to my evil capitalist influences, from my origins to my personality.
My would be friends, who were swearing on their lives to the last minute to support me, suddenly are nowhere to be seen, much less heard. After returning from the assembly, the komsomol tries to eject me both from their organization and the high school. Fortunately for me, all of the teachers stand beside me and derailed the attempt.
About one year later, our premier is removed from office. It's not yet clear if the country will steeer towards democracy or it will be merely a succession. During that time, being one of the fortunate people with access to a computers and a printer, each and every day we print pamphlets and spread them in the city during the night.
In Dec 89 I take part in the first demonstrations against the government. During a fateful night after one of them, we surround the parliament while in session. The would-be successor suggests that maybe tanks should be called in. He's caught on tape and the video makes an instant sensation. Shortly after he resigns and elections are called.
So Who am I? I hope that these few shared flashes have given you an insight into the answer of that question. As the great poet Thomas Elliot wrote, "We shall never cease from exploration // and the end of all our exploring // will be to arrive where we started // and know the place for the first time".
Who am I? (P) Maybe // when the end of my life comes // I myself will finally know who I've been.
Mr Toastmaster
Mister Toastmaster, Fellow members, Guests
An ice-breaker ought to be an easy speech. After all, it all revolves around a single question : Who am I? It's all about stuff I know, or I should know. It needs no preparation, anyone could provide an improvised answer to that question. If I asked Chris, Patricia, Richard "Who are you?", I'm sure they would provide plenty of information. "I'm Chris, I'm so and so years old, I live in Madrid, I'm a trainer or a consultant in business english proficiency and so on and so forth.".
Many many years ago, during the unblemished innocence of childhood, the answer would've probably been quite different. "I'm Chris. I like to play soccer. Would you like to play with me? Would you like to be my friend?"
As we grow up, we begin to lose perspective. As Sant-Exuperi wrote in his masterpiece, if a kid comes up to us and says that he's seen a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with flowers in the windows and doves on the roof and we wouldn't know what he's talking about. Now if he instead said "I've seen a $400,000 house", that would surely make quite an impression on us.
We as grown ups have become accustomed to seeing the world through facts and figures. But should you really care how old I am, what I do, where I live?
So an ice-breaker actually turns to be pretty bloody difficult speech. It's difficult because it's easy to answer it through a bunch of banalities, to get lost in the irrelevant details. Details that you'll probably forget immediately anyway.
In every person's life, there are defining moments that shine through the mist of time as bright flashes of light. Every one of us has these moments, each containing a droplet of memory, frozen in time and ingrained in the tapestry of our beings. These moments are the ones that makes us what we are, and I'd like to share with you some of these moments.
After spending my early childhood in Spain, I went back to Bulgaria and had to adjust to quite a different regime. There were circumstances under which one had to be very careful about what you spoke and to whom you spoke. I remember this girl - Cristina - one of the best students in our class. At that time, in order to gain access to a university, you had to be a member of the komsomol - the youth wing of the communist party. During the membership interview, she was asked if she was happy to join. She had answered "Why should I be happy?". (P) I saw her later crying in the schoolyard. She had been rejected just because of that single answer. There would be no university for her, nor any kind of job matching her abilities.
1986 finds me in Noordwijk, Holland, representing my country in the Voice of the Children International Conference.
A gathering of children from around the world, one or two from each participating country, meeting with a dozen Nobel Prize Winners and sharing views about how to solve the problems of our world. I remember the friendship, the songs, the candid approach to problems, the long nights working together polishing the book we all wrote. I remember an israleli boy - Aaron - singing and working with muslim kids. And I also remember the last glimpse of Sally, the wonderful girl from Hong Kong, waving goodbye from the bus and whispering I love you. There and many other names I will carry with me forever.
Fast forward two years. The bulgarian regime is in its death throes, but not quite dead yet. Of course we didn't know that, back then.
Never to miss a chance to open my big mouth, I speak before the regional assembly of the bulgarian Komsomol. I critisize the role of the communists in the education system, the interference of political events and activities in class, and all of this right in front of their noses. After I leave the floor, the pounding begins. One after another, they attacked everything from my appearance to my evil capitalist influences, from my origins to my personality.
My would be friends, who were swearing on their lives to the last minute to support me, suddenly are nowhere to be seen, much less heard. After returning from the assembly, the komsomol tries to eject me both from their organization and the high school. Fortunately for me, all of the teachers stand beside me and derailed the attempt.
During that time, being one of the fortunate people with access to a computers and a printer, each and every day we print pamphlets and spread them in the city during the night.
In Dec 89 I take part in the first demonstrations against the government. During a fateful night after one of them, we surround the parliament while in session. The would-be successor suggests that maybe tanks should be called in. He's caught on tape and the video makes an instant sensation. Shortly after he resigns and elections are called.
So Who am I? I hope that these few shared flashes have given you an insight into the answer of that question. As the great poet Thomas Elliot wrote, "We shall never cease from exploration // and the end of all our exploring // will be to arrive where we started // and know the place for the first time".
Who am I? (P) Maybe // when the end of my life comes // I myself will finally know who I've been.
Mr Toastmaster
