I scan the room of expectant faces. It may be a hundred faces. A few times, I look out at well over 500 faces. Once, there were over a thousand faces looking at me.
My great big heart bounces around inside my chest. I tick off a mental list of the points I can’t forget. My throat feels like sandpaper worn thin in a few places.
Nevertheless, I begin to speak. Each of these souls has come to hear me (and maybe others) speak about our experiences, what we do, and how we help people. Each of them comes into the room with a load of life experiences that probably includes childhood trauma, a bully story, and someone who was supposed to love them causing them pain. They’ve all been harmed, but they’re here. They’ve survived, and they own that survivor story like a war relic.
I always honor the path they’ve walked. This life is beautiful, but it’s not easy.
I imagine the baggage they’re carrying. In my mind, some of them are wearing impossibly heavy backpacks. Some are carrying actual luggage, beaten up American Touristers from 1976, loaded down with their history, a lifetime of tales of woe.
And then there are some people whose backs are piled so high with bags and parcels, one tied on top of the other, some attached to the sides with straps, like the vendors you see in India or South America. These people are always the most frail, legs like thin wires, pedaling bicycles with crooked wheels while balancing the incredible life load of their past.
My task is to connect with them through my own stories, stories I've collected over years of being a friend, teacher, coach, and fellow human. I adapt every single class or speech to the room I’m in. I build my knowledge of the audience before I create the talk. It’s FOR them and not about me.
I begin to speak.
I talk about self-agency. We will never change anyone else.
I invite listeners to be the leaders of their own lives. We will never alter the circumstances.
I remind them of their capabilities. We didn’t come out the other side of struggle by being incapable.
I teach about the human brain and why we do the things we do even when it’s not what we wanted. We have primitive brains that have to be intentionally managed.
I give examples and show mistakes alongside victories. Life always has a little bit of happy and a little bit of crappy.
I share my story. I share the stories of my family and friends and clients and case studies and research. I use what I believe will resonate the most with this particular audience.
Their faces show me when I’m hitting the spot. They’re nodding, or writing furiously, or their eyes fill with tears. I see their bodies move around uncomfortably. I notice them looking at someone else in the room. Sometimes they look angry. Other times they look guilty.
Inevitably, someone (or many) comes up after the talk and says…
“Do you know about me?”
“Did someone tell you about me?”
“I felt like you were talking about me.”
Sometimes they’re just surprised, and sometimes they’re really upset. People don’t always like to know that they’re living an example of what I help people with. They don't enjoy coming to understand they might be the person who could use some healing, mentoring, or coaching.
Not everyone is going to want to stop being a game piece in someone else’s game. Some people grow to like not taking responsibility for their choices. Sometimes their stories of what other people have done to them are their favorite ones. They like the sympathy, or tragedy, or their complaints have become part of their personality.
Coming to a talk where someone has also been living a life filled with challenges, difficult people, and a series of unfortunate events, who changes, who breaks the cycle, gets it wrong before getting it right, and starts leading their life rather than being victimized by it…
Well that’s a hard realization.
It’s one of the hardest admissions to make.
Here’s what that sounds like in their brains.
I’m choosing to…
Wait for someone else to figure out what makes me happy.
Let other people’s expectations steer my life.
Worry about what others think of me.
Be a second in command of my own life.
I’m choosing to…
Accept the treatment I’m receiving.
Let people talk badly about me.
Hang out with people who bring me down.
Be influenced by people I don’t admire.
I’m choosing to…
Be unhealthy.
Suffer in my body.
Satisfy urges that hurt me.
Rely on doctors and drug companies.
I’m choosing to…
Work where I’m not appreciated.
Do work that has a low value in the marketplace.
Be paid less than my work is valued at.
Accept roles that are beneath my skills and experience.
See what I mean? Those thoughts about oneself are startling, and when I’m the person who tells the story that wakes someone up to the reality of their own brains…
It’s a big responsibility.
Am I talking about you?
If you think so, the answer is, “Yes.”
And it’s the message you were supposed to hear.
And you may need to sit with it for a little while.
And it might make you mad.
And I wrote this speech for you. I created these stories for you, I spent my life learning about ambition, motivation, education, and the human condition for you.
What are you going to do about it?
