IN-Q Leaves Crowd Speechless with his Original Poem “Shark Attack”

How you guys doing? You good? Come on, can I get some more energy? You good? Are you alive? All right.

I just want to bond the room, so actually, everybody stand up out of your chairs. I know it sounds strange because you just sat down, but the first thing that I want you to do is I want you to introduce yourself or reintroduce yourself to three people around you. But here's the key — I want you to do it like they are your absolute best friend in the entire world and you haven't seen them in three years. So I want an enormous amount of embarrassing enthusiasm. If you're not embarrassed, you're not doing it right. Ready? Introduce yourselves! More energy!

All right, amazing. Now everybody put two hands in the sky. Everybody stay standing, stay standing, everybody stay standing up. Put two hands in the sky like this. And first of all, wiggle your fingers. Everybody do it. Now stretch out, lean all the way back and go, "Ahhh." Okay, good.

Now widen your stance, start to swing back and forth, and purposely bump into the person next to you. Just make some physical contact, remind them you're alive. Okay, good. Now everybody start to jump around a little bit, go back and forth and make your own personal mini mosh pit. Not too crazy, but just a little bit.

All right, good. Now let's see — everybody face this direction. Start to massage the person in front of you. I want a Summit massage train. And don't do it like they're a random person — do it like you love them. Really get in there. All right, do the chops on the back. Use your voices, go "Ahhh!" Great. Turn the opposite direction and continue the massage train. Thank you. All right, do the chops again. Now two times as loud, go "Ahhh!"

Great. Face forward. And on the count of three, yell out your own name. Ready? One, two, three! On the count of three, yell out where you're from. Ready? One, two, three!

All right, I'm Adam "IN-Q," I'm from LA. Everybody can sit down. Some of you guys hate me already. All right, good.

[laughter]

Let's take three collective deep breaths together. Let's do one — in through the nose, out through the mouth. Let's do another one, even deeper — in through the nose, out through the mouth. Let's do one more, make it the biggest breath you've taken all day. Ready? In through the nose, hold it at the top, make some noise when you let it out — go!

One of my favorite sayings is: "I don't know who discovered water, but it probably wasn't a fish." And I love that saying because to me it means you can't see your own environment when you're inside of it, and it's only when you get outside of it that you even know that it exists. And I feel like that's what we've all experienced during the last three years of the pandemic. We've been removed from our lives. It allowed us to see ourselves differently, and then we got to decide what we wanted to keep and what we wanted to change.

But the other thing that happened during this period of time is we have been inundated with both real and irrational, imaginary fears, and it's gotten to the point that many of us can't even tell the difference between the two. So I wrote this poem about fear to help remind myself. It's called "Sharks."

You're more likely to be killed while driving to the beach than by a shark. In fact you're 30 times more likely to be killed by coconuts or falling airplane parts. And Google says that's just the start. Beware of bear attacks, fireworks, train tracks, bees, eating, drinking, sleeping, sex, ladders, subways, dogs, steps — all of these can cause your death. I'm surprised there's people left. Biking, boating, cancer, smoke, lightning striking, hunting, stroke, hippos are no joke, and chicken wings can make you choke, or slipping on a bar of soap — anything can make you croak. Lawn mowers, trees, guns, snow, wind, rain, sun. Many drown or die of thirst. Selfies are the worst — they're the worst. Falling backwards off a cliff for likes that you will never get. Fire, ice, poison, snakes, rivers, valleys, deserts, lakes, knives, ties, all types of sports — they've weaponized our spoons and forks. Cows, wheat, sugar, pork, obesity of every sort. Which brings me back to shark attacks — statistically they come up short. You're much more likely to be killed by popping out a champagne cork.

[laughter]

That's true. That shouldn't stop our celebration. If we were in a bar I'd say put your glasses in the air, but everybody put one hand in the sky like this — snap it out. How about we toast to life and overcoming irrational fears? Now that's the cheers.

I'm not pretending that there aren't threats, but we can't live our lives if we're this preoccupied with death. You cannot hide somewhere where time doesn't find you. Anywhere you go it will be one step behind you, to remind you that you — that you — will not be here forever. We're just spinning on a rock inside the universe together. It's a treasure, so let's measure life by more than just our years.

It's the memories we make, especially when we get scared. It's the boundaries that we break and the risks we choose to take. It's the grace in our mistakes when we're humbled by a wave, when it tumbles us and pulls us under to an early grave. But we fight to reach the light just to live another day, and our fingers touch the surface and our lungs can breathe again. And we look off in the distance and we think we see a fin. We should probably get moving, make our way to solid land. We should get out of the water — but not never swim again. Not never swim again.

People know that times are tough, that life is worse than it has been. People know that it is hard, that this might be the very end. People know that there's more darkness in the future than there's light. I know one thing: everything's going to be all right.

People know that bombs will drop, they know that crime is on the rise. People know there's poison crops, that doctors get our children high. People know that what you know is wrong and what they know is right. I know one thing: everything's gonna be all right.

People know the skies will fall, the trees will burn, the seas will boil. People know that air will thin, the ice will crack, the food will spoil. People know they're going to die, so why not just give up the fight? I know one thing: everything's going to be all right.

People tell me they refuse to bring a baby in this world. People tell me it's not fair to them, it's too much to endure. People sell me their experience without historical hindsight, but I know one thing: everything's gonna be all right.

I know how hard it was at every other point to be alive. I know we used to have 10 kids because five of them would not survive. I know a fridge was once technology; most humans died at 35. And life made no apology — it wasn't always on your side. And that was the psychology — the fittest were the ones that thrived. Your lineage is quality, your DNA's electrified. Your cells are your mythology, your ancestors are in your blood. We wouldn't even be here if they flirted once with giving up. We wouldn't even be here to complain that we don't have enough. We wouldn't even be here to keep buying all this useless stuff.

But people seem to know they need a crutch to make it through their day. They know that they're in pain, so they won't have it any other way. They know what they can't say — that's why they lie awake at night. I know one thing.

And I know that I don't know you, that my words don't carry weight, but I try because I owe you for the years I harbored hate. Use my eyes so I can show you how most people can't relate, because most people want to stay — most people — and I can relate. It's a lot to clean your slate, to have the faith to up and stop, to know that everything will be all right even when it's not. To know that knowing isn't knowing — it is choosing what you want. It is winning when you're losing and still loving what you've got.

Sure, I often get upset, resentful and filled up with spite. I don't get how humans have the right to steal human rights. I don't get the violence and the wars, the poverty and strife, but I know that having lows can carve the space for higher heights.

How can you have gratitude for tragedies that make no sense? How can you find peace in chaos? How can you take your revenge? How can you embrace your sadness to find happiness in life?

You know one thing. You know one thing. Come on, even louder — we know one thing: everything is going to be all right.

[applause]

My name is IN-Q. Thank you for listening to me tonight. I appreciate it.