Being Seen in a Deeper Way

[Vulnerability & Power - VI] 

If I’m seen, as in light from my figure passes through your cornea, iris, retina, and optical nerve, and your brain processes the image as a human being, I am viewed in a literal sense. My form has boundaries and limits. To see me is to see this form.

If I’m seen in a deeper way, you may see me as a physical form, but you also “see" me as an emotionally complex being that both holds physical space and sentient experiences. My experiences are infinitely complex. To see me in this way is to affirm that this universe of emotional complexity makes sense. 

Belonging requires being seen in a deeper way. It’s required to experience meaningful participation in a community, loving relationships, mutual and shared need, and social value. 

But it’s also exposing. Always.

This is the paradox of being seen as more than a physical form, automaton, or mindless servant that fills finite space. Exposure and connection coexist. So do risk and belonging. And vulnerability and the power of community. 

True power requires being truly seen. There’s no workaround or hack or shortcut.

Exposure to Others - Part 4

[Vulnerability & Power - V] 

Exposure to others is often a mirror image to our inner audience. 

Are we afraid of public speaking? Do we dread getting in front of a crowd and speaking our truth, making our argument, and delivering our message. Then we must ask: Who is the crowd within me? There is a direct line between the exposure I feel in front of them and the exposer that quietly happens between me… and me. 

Does taking a stand on behalf of an underrepresented group of people scare you? Do you fear being ostracized from another more represented group?  Who is the native group/community/family you have internalized? What threats have they imposed on you that you find most risky? 

Is following your path, standing for your conviction, or pursuing your dream a deviation from family norm? Does that terrify you? Is the residue of childhood shame still lingering? Is your father’s voice still hounding you about getting good grades, toeing the line, and representing the family legacy? 

Our experience of public exposure is childhood exposure that continues to live on in us. Facing it is the only way forward.

Exposure to Others - Part 3

[Vulnerability & Power - IV] 

Vulnerability feels like weakness but looks like strength and bravery. 

Consider these scenarios: 

Cathy carries her poem to the front of class. Her palms sweaty and knees wobbly, this is the first time she has every spoken in public. She feels scared. She looks courageous. 

Rungi requests a meeting with his boss to address the new restrictions on incorporating his religious tunic into his work uniform. He feels powerless and afraid. He appears brave. 

Sean confronts his uncles and grandfather at Thanksgiving for making racist comments about the players on TV. He’s nervous and feels small; he is taking a stand and looks strong. 

In each case, being exposed to others feels like weakness and yet requires great strength and courage.

Exposure to Others - Part 2

[Vulnerability & Power - III] 

If we deny the pain now, it will continue to silently grow. Like our portfolio, we’ll eventually pass it onto our kids. 

If we numb the pain now, it will worsen with time and we won’t feel its effects. We’ll inflict it on others, addicted to our means of numbing and numb to how it hurts those around us. 

If we deny the pain exists, we will deny the very empathic gift that it has to offer, and then we will grow colder and more distant to those around us. 

Not facing the pain inside blocks our ability to healthfully engage the people we love most. Exposure to others begins with exposure to ourselves.

Exposure to Others - Part 1

[Vulnerability & Power - II]

Vulnerability is a “measurement” of your exposure to others.

But vulnerability isn’t hatched in public; it begins in private. It begins in how we address, confront, process, and work through our own pain. In other words, our ability to be exposed in public is directly correlated to our ability to face the pain of our inner world.

It’s the dragon in the cave.
It’s the villain on the battle field.
It’s the devil in the desert.

We must face it to experience awakening. To grow. To be able to be vulnerable with others. If not, we will run from it our whole lives.

The Greatest is Counterintuitive

[Vulnerability & Power - I] 

Consider the most powerful “thing” you’ve ever seen. 

Not might, as in the power of one person, group, or country over another. 
Not energy, as in the the power of explosives or the potential power of splitting atoms. 
Not manipulation, as in the power to intimidate or coerce emotionally. 

Rather, consider the most powerful “act” you’ve ever witnessed. For example, the most powerful act of bravery. 

Or, consider the most powerful “event” you’ve witnessed. Maybe it was a speech. An immense display of compassion. Or, an overwhelming move of generosity. 

Power is not necessarily the measurement of might, intimidation, or threat. It’s not, as my sociology teacher taught, the ability to get people to do what you want. 

The greatest power is counterintuitive. It’s not immune to risk; it requires great risk. It’s not unmoved strength; it often includes weakness. And it always has at its center profound vulnerability. 

I’d like to spend some time exploring the relationship between vulnerability and (an alternative definition of) power. I believe where the two intersect is where transformation and change happens—for you and me as individuals and for our communities at large.

On Dumbo & Feathers

[Your Voice - XXV]

The feather wasn’t the magic ingredient. Flying was an unmerited gift Dumbo received at birth. However, we go looking everywhere for our magic feather to help unlock our voice, that we might speak meaningfully and influentially to the world. 

The magic was already in Dumbo. 

Your voice is already there. 

Look no further. 

 [h/t Stephen King]

Don’t Stop When’s it’s Hard

[Your Voice - XXIV]

Please don’t stop when it’s hard… 

Hard to share from your heart. 

Hard to find the precise word when filler is acceptable.

Hard to write poetry when you don’t feel artistic. 

Hard to be honest in the face of intimidation.

Hard to be more succinct and more accurate.

Hard to stop talking when the norm is to continue.

Hard to slow down and write with conviction.

Hard to break policy and speak truth. 

Hard to spend hours to find a single phrase. 

Hard to expose the oppressor or uncover an injustice. 

Hard to write beautifully when it feels like a drag.

Hard to tell your truth. 

Hard to share when your inner critic is yelling.

Hard to put soul into bureaucratic communication.

Please don’t stop when it's emotionally, imaginatively, physically, institutionally, or socially hard. Good work that requires your Voice is rarely easy work. It wasn’t easy for the great writers, orators, and leaders from history; it won’t be for us. 

There is so much noise. So much voiceless communication. So much against communicating thoughtfully and with conviction. If people like us don’t do the hard work, we all might drown in meaningless chatter, sending each other life boats full of memes and platitudes.

Do This to Kill It

[Your Voice - XXIII]

Your voice is unique. And fragile.

Troll farms can produce millions of words, phrases, and images that replicate a generic “voice”. Which is to say: voiceless communication, uncritically engaged and merely consumed, is easy to produce. Inanimate, preprogrammed bots can do it. 

But no one and no thing can reproduce your voice. They can reproduce the sound of your voice, if they have enough recorded material, but they can’t duplicate it.

Your voice is less like a precious, valuable stone, however, and more like a rare orchid: it can’t be forged, and it is easily killed. Our voice is fragile. It takes time to find, cultivate, and use, and with little effort it can be damaged.

I’ve found the easiest way to kill it is to consume more media. 
20 years ago it was watching TV. 
10 years ago it was streaming videos. 
Now, it's a mosaic of media, the most prominent being the Big Socials. And here’s the dark side of this observation: in scrolling and consuming, we feel like we’re making an investment in our voice. You’re not. I’m not. Instead, we’re doing damage, threatening to kill the gift that is given to us.

It is Handed to You, but...

[Your Voice - XXII]

Voice doesn’t register on our economic map. 

Supply and demand and the invisible hand do. 
Compensation, benefits, insurance, and time-off do. 
Supply chains, manufacturing, and product development might. 
Cost benefit analysis, externalities, margins, and loss equations do. 

But voice is not something you extract from the earth, model on a computer, build or manufacture, deliver to the marketplace, and advertise. 

In a market economy, “free” is never free, and “free” always costs someone, somewhere, something. 

Voice, however is indeed free and therefore disturbs (and even disrupts) our economic sensibilities. And it is priceless, though it has no price tag. 

Voice is unearned.
Un-manufactured.
Un-extractable. 
Un-sellable. 

Your Unique Voice is something given. It’s handed to you at birth, without cost, as a gift. Whether we choose to look for it, receive it, activate it, nurture it, utilize and share it, is entirely up to us. But cost: there isn’t any. 

Voice is unmerited grace.

Context & Kinetics

[Your Voice - XXI]

Ideas don’t change lives…

Unless they connect to context (real life scenarios). 

I can listen to lectures all day about neuroscience, exercise, the negative effects of addictions, civil engineering, or religious conversion. Those lectures will not in any measurable way influence my rational thinking, cholesterol levels, smoking habit, or religious adherence. Until those lectures speak to the headaches I feel, walk me through a stretching and jogging plan, or give me alternatives to cigarettes, the lectures merely vanish. If they speak practically to my world, engagement is natural. Change is possible because my context—not just my cognition—is engaged. 

Ideas don’t change lives…

Unless they connect to bodies (felt in the flesh).

A teacher can explain concepts for hours while I sit and listen. I may take notes, doodle, or stair at the ceiling. Either way, my life remains constant, and most likely I'll resent being forced to sit and pretend to engage. If those concepts connect my real-world sensations with a lesson, or invite me into a scenario I can feel, I don’t have to be coerced or threatened. I’m enveloped into a place I can feel, touch, and explore. The learning happens naturally. Change is possible because my body—not just my mind—is engaged. 

True Voice engages both context and bodies.

Passive & Active

[Your Voice - XX]

Using a passive verb—also known as a passive voice—“feels” intellectual and eloquent. But really it sounds evasive and limp. 

Using an active verb or active voice feels direct, even aggressive. But to the audience, it sounds clear and understandable.

Grammar aside, our voice can be passive or active, murky or clear, limp or sturdy, insecure or confident. Often we feel like we’re being more eloquent when really we’re hiding our true voice behind our intellect, expertise, or long-windedness. In fear of being truly heard, we ramble on, dig deeper into the lexicon of jargon, and talk in circles. Take a risk and use your active, true voice. It always sounds more clear.

The Weight of Voice

[Your Voice - XIX]

The best visual reference I have for "hot air" is the blow torch that heats the air for a hot air balloon. The flaming torch turns a limp, flat sheet of material on the ground into a bulbous balloon of warmth. As the balloon moves into a vertical position, the torch is throttled back until takeoff.  The balloon is suspended in a type weightless rest. Then the basket is untethered from anchors in the ground, the balloon is given a little more heat, and the whole balloon gently lifts off the ground. No sudden moves or or neck jolting propulsion, foot by foot the hot air does its job to slowly float the balloon skyward.  

This is an image of communicating without voice. It’s full of hot air, meanders, and lacks truthfulness. It is untethered from the ground and weightless. It’s full of hot air.

Potential Energy

[Your Voice - XVIII]

In physics, potential energy is the stored energy of position possessed by an object. When a bow is drawn, for example, it holds potential energy. Shooting an arrow is merely transferring the energy to another object. 

Words aren’t physical objects, but they are indeed objects in a verbal or literary sense. And they have energy, too. The potential energy of words increases if arranged together to form sentences, and still more when they communicate ideas. 

Voice adds to the potential energy of our words because it aligns the “energy" of communicating ideas with the “energy” of experience, perspective, and conviction.  

Voice is not only the art of communicating, it’s the stored energy of words that only you have the power to employ.

Frankenstein Imparts Life

[Your Voice - XVII]

Fun fact: Frankenstein is the name of the doctor, not the monster. The monster was called among other things, the Creature. Victor Frankenstein, a scientist that discovers a way to impart life into inanimate matter, pieces together a type of “dead” body and brings it to life with an electrical current. 

Your voice is like this. 

A haiku. 
Book.
Note to a friend. 
Speech. 
Eulogy. 
Prayer. 
Or an important email. 

We piece together words and grammatical notations to try to communicate something important. If it doesn’t include our unique voice it is lifeless. However, where there is voice, life begins to take shape. The inanimate objects that we’ve pieced together begin to stir and eventually stand up. It’s thrilling. Even scary.  

Don’t settle for lifeless (voiceless) communication. 

Your voice is the electrical current that gives words life.

Felt in the Body

[Your Voice - XVI]

A PE teacher’s words are instructive. “Get in line.” “Run a lap.” “Stretch your hamstrings.” A yoga instructors words are also instructive. “Relax your left should as your lean, and breathe through your naval.” Both are talking about physical activity, but the yoga instructor's words can be felt in the body. 

A cafeteria employee prepares and serves meals. “You can have the pizza or the burrito. And one milk.”  It’s clear and instructive. A chef prepares and serves a meal, too. “You can smell the wild onion aroma on these chanterelles before they hit your pallet. Pause between each bite; allow the the layers of flavors to release slowly in your mouth.” Both are talking about food, but the chef’s words can be tasted—felt in the body. 

Your voice should be felt in the body. It doesn’t need to be flowery language, but it must go beyond the listener’s (or reader’s) ear.

Fragile Words

[Your Voice - XV]

Not timid. Your voice ought to carry with it an air of confidence. Not because it’s infallible but because it’s yours. 

Not lazy. Slang is lazy; cliches are lazy; stereotypes are lazy, too. Your voice, if it’s truly yours and not a regurgitation of another’s voice (or propaganda), will take work. Shortcuts and voice are mutually exclusive.  

Not pretentious. Your voice may confuse some, but it can’t have within it a confounding spirit. Simple is almost always better. Reaching for a thesaurus is almost always the wrong step to your best communication.

Not mimicry. Developing your voice begins with mimicry but can’t stay that way. Mimicry becomes plagiarism, punditry, or posturing as soon as it’s used to rationalized content creation. 

However, your voice may include fragile words. Not limp or weak. Not soft. But precise enough to do only one job, and do it with excellence and beauty. (On occasion the fine china and skinny-necked wine glasses should be used for dinner.)

Sit Your Butt in the Chair

[Your Voice - XIV]

Writers have the best advice when it comes to crafting voice. While we can hide behind hollow words and flat communication, their life depends on channelling their authentic voice. 

One writer gave some good advice: “Find a quiet room and shut the door.”

Another writer: “Sit your butt in the chair.” 

And a third writer: “Just put your fingers on the keyboard.” 

Voice for these authors is the same as any of our voices—it’s in there, swirling around in your head, doing summersaults in your stomach, or right on the tip of your tongue. Getting it out is the challenge. 

There’s no magic pill or chant or potion that’ll get it out. There’s no conference or class or group that’ll coax it forward. 

Sitting down, shutting the door, and putting your hands on the keyboard is the only way. It takes time and discipline. If you can spit it out on the run and without effort, it’s likely recycled (or a text message, which is exempt from voice).

Concerning Adverbs & Memes

[Your Voice - XIII]

Stephen King said, “The road to hell is paved in adverbs,” but we all know the road to hell is paved in memes (that occasionally use adverbs). 

Come to think of it, those are not conflicting claims. They share the same sentiment: misery is communication without voice. 

An adverb is often used to make the wrong verb “feel” like the correct verb. What’s needed is the right verb, and that requires work. So, adverbs are lazy. And nothing hides an author’s voice like a lazy choice of words. 

A meme is social media drivel. Occasionally they strike an accuracy chord, so we nod along as though they are the bearers of hard-to-speak truths. They’re most likely created by trolling farms that use bots to mine your personal information and internet surfing tendencies and then spit back at you ideologically consistent content. In other words, there’s not even a human behind memes, let alone a voice. 

Adverbs and memes are both reminders of the importance of voice—real humans doing the work of crafting language to communicate complex ideas and experience with accurately. Steer clear of the road to hell.

Grab a Shovel

[Your Voice - XII]

I loved my BMX bike growing up. My favorite thing to do, of course, was jumping. But a dirt jump requires a lot of work to build, and we didn’t live by a track. So, we had to work. A sizable jump (waist to chest high) requires about 300 shovel fulls of dirt . . . and that’s not counting building a decent landing. 

Passion will drive a boy to do anything; we built a good half dozen jump-and-landing combinations. Altogether it took months of hard labor. 

My friend’s dad built him bigger jumps in less than a day. They used a backhoe. 

Your voice is a slow building process. It’s a lot like building dirt jumps, one shovel scoop at a time.  

It looks like others have found a shortcut, but there are no voice building backhoes. Bit by bit, scoop by scoop, is the only way to your authentic voice. 

Grab a shovel.