Storytelling and the first and foremost public podium of human sensemaking, human growth and transformation, and perhaps human being
A few interesting moments over the past few days, reminded me, gratefully,
Of a truth I have long circled. One I have long felt.
And one that I’d forgotten.
A truth I have felt in a fear, and an awkwardness;
In sweating and fumbling the bleedingly obvious,
But also in a sudden clarity of mission and vision; of story,
And in the brave - even relaxedly enjoying and taking up space,
Taking - other human beings along for the ride, in my - truth;
In my world. In my mind.
If my work is all about finding the story,
And being able to tell it - in such a way that it all starts
To make sense and to move again,
Only now in a better, and more true direction;
That story that brings you closer to the truth of you
And what it is that you came here to do -
That story that can only be added to the symphony in highest fidelity -
In your unique voice -
Then perhaps speaking your story in that public podium
The start and necessary end, in circles, changing, again and again,
Of the co-creation, testing and together sensing
Of how the seeming forever chaos can start to make sense -
Perhaps that - is the truest, richest, and most valuable test -
And maybe that’s the reason our voice starts to tremble, our legs start to shake,
When we think about taking our place, on that stage, the applause fades -
“One, two, one two - Mic check. Test, test...”
And we know, in that arena - there’s always one take.
Your fear of public speaking isn’t a fear problem
It’s a power problem.
One of the most common fears among full-grown human beings… is public speaking.
I don’t think that fear is a bug in the system.
And when I say ‘system’ I mean both the one we live inside,
And the one on the inside.
For both of these, I think that fear - of speaking out,
Is part of the design.
Not because we are broken — dumb, or meant to all be mute.
But because we are powerful. And our power - as well as our responsibility, I feel,
Aligns very closely, with speaking our truth. Out loud.
When you stand up to speak your truth, something ancient is activated.
You’re no longer hiding inside the story you were given.
You are taking your place and participating in the process
Of the story that is still being written.
And that as a given, is threatening — to systems built on control,
As well as to the parts of ourselves that learned that safety lives in staying small.
So often, fear is so good at wrapping itself in the voice of reason.
At the same time, fear, so often, points to something incredibly real.
We didn’t evolve to be silent observers
For most of human history, storytelling wasn’t something we simply “consumed.”
It was something we did. Something you participated in.
Around fires. In circles. In councils. In rituals.
Story was, and still is - how we made sense of who we were and where we were going.
Yes — there were elders, bards, griots, shamans.
But the space itself, as much as the evolving story - belonged to the commons.
To what degree can we say that this is the case,
For our current, so-called ‘social’, media for sharing stories,
Crafting them together?Who do they belong to?
Over time, as societies scaled, centralized, militarized and consumerized,
So did story.
Narrative and its ownership moved from the sharing circle
To the hierarchical institution.
From the many, to the few.
And slowly, quietly, something changed inside us, too:
We began - slightly too closely - associating visibility with danger.
Being heard, with risk.
Standing out - with the threat of rejection.
That legacy still lives in our nervous systems. And in the cultures that shape us.
It was not a new invention, mind you -
It was a hack that hi-jacked something that was always already there.
Fear of being seen is not weakness
It’s memory. And deep knowing.
Our bodies remember a time when exclusion meant death.
When being cast out of the group was not some metaphorical end;
Not a potentially funny mistake — but fatal.
So when we speak publicly — either in the town hall, or on the big stage,
Or very small - in our own office or home space;
When we even gently move towards truly saying what we see and feel —
The body reacts as if survival is on the line.
Heart racing. Breath tightening.
A voice inside, saying: Who do you think you are?
This isn’t pathology.
It’s protection.
But protection can become a prison.
Because the same system that fears your voice also knows something else:
You carry something no one else can.
A perspective. A pattern. A truth.
A necessary piece of the map.
For all of our future.
And if you never speak it — the collective never receives it.
And you never get to see if - you had it right, or if the story yet needs to be tightened.
We are not made for silence
We are made for resonance.
A different function entirely.
What kind of acoustic guitar, you think, a massive block of ice could be?
Writing - mostly quietly - and reading, or being read, is powerful.
It sharpens thought. Preserves memory. It teaches us how to structure, tone, place;
Measure, and flow - within story. And magically; it allows the stories and thoughts, Consciousness and experiences of a species - to travel across time and space.
But the human nervous system was shaped by and for voice, first.
By and for eyes meeting eyes;
Breath moving or pausing - breath.
Tone, rhythm, gesture, presence.
When we share our stories and our voice; and when we listen;
We do not just exchange information.
We co-regulate.
We feel each other into understanding.
This, back-and-forth; with immediate sharpening, or welcoming, improving feedback.
Feedforward. As a good friend calls it. And as a good friend would do it.
That is why your voice matters — not as performance,
But as presence.
Not as persuasion, but as your truth in motion. Truth evolving. Our truth, co-created.
The hard part isn’t learning how to speak
It’s trusting that you are allowed to.
That your story is not a distraction — but a contribution.
That clarity is not something you “achieve once,” but something you learn to return to.
Over and over. Re-imagine. Re-embody. Re-emerge.
For yourself.
For your work.
For the people who will recognize themselves in your words. Resonating with your voice.
Because when you speak from that place — you don’t just express who you are.
You naturally invite and extend permission to others - to dare to remember who they are, too.
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If this resonates,
I would love to hear what it stirs in you.
Not because I have answers — but because I believe we find better ones when we listen to each other speak. Reciprocally.