Easy to say, hard to share

“Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.” (Source)

My favorite aspect of coaching my fellow business owners is seeing how they light up when they’re taking about their work.

Sometimes it takes them a little bit to get going, but once they’re warmed up, they speak brilliantly and extemporaneously about the challenges their clients face, common misconceptions in their field, and the way they want to make things better in the world. It’s like listening to a private podcast. I always wish I could share the magic with others — and reflect it back to its source.

There’s a hesitation that so many of us have in sharing our ideas. We believe that our unique insights are common knowledge. We think we need to be more polished or have better credentials. We are afraid to show how weird we are and believe that we should present a sanitized, professional image.

Ironically, the very aspects of our identity and our message that would help people to connect with us are the things we might most wish to hide. To overcome this gap, we have to unlearn the lessons of seventh grade — that fit-in-at-all-costs mentality — and embrace our weirdness.

Of course, if you’ve spent a couple of years or decades sanding down your rough edges, you may not know anymore what you like, what makes you different, what you stand for. You’ve gotten so good at fitting in that your so-called “true self” no longer feels recoverable.

What’s more, to reverse course is risky. Some of us have to make deep compromises to function in our careers, and we might not want to burn it all down by speaking up, taking only Renee Zellweger and a goldfish.

I remember a moment when I knew I had to do something different in my own work. In my role as director of a music school, I was on the phone with a guy who was looking for music lessons for his two young children. “We really want it to be fun. We want them to love music,” he said. And when I asked about his availability, he said, “My wife and I both work, so the lessons would have to take place after 6 PM.”

I was frustrated, backed into a corner. I knew already how the story would end. A five-year-old isn’t going to function well after 6 PM, so it wouldn’t matter if you had Jimmy Fallon and the Roots delivering his music lessons — it wasn’t going to be fun. Plus, with little time and energy for practice, their kids were unlikely to make much progress. Attending lessons week after week with nothing to show for it does not teach anyone to love music — in fact, it does the opposite.

I knew I could choose to say that to this guy. In fact, I could holler it into the phone and then hang up on him. I had been dealing with this issue for so long and felt so strongly about it that I practically had a whole lecture prepared. But I didn’t want to blow up my music school, one that dozens of people depended on for their livelihoods. So I played nice and promised to find him a spot on our schedule. And then I decided that I would find an appropriate outlet for telling the truth as I saw it, plus find somebody nicer to take these calls (hi, Anna!).

Now, a few years later, the music school is in the midst of a pivot that will allow us to more appropriately address the needs of the over-scheduled children we serve. In the meantime, I’m finding ways to share what I’ve learned and what I see in my career — this blog is part of that.

And it really is that simple: I can share what I’ve learned and what I see. I don’t need to dig deep or be original and groundbreaking and edgy. Just as with my clients, the words that bubble to the surface automatically, the ideas I’m most eager to share, and the topics I could talk about for hours — that’s the stuff to share.

And of course, that’s the same stuff I would normally try to tamp down so that I don’t bore anybody, offend them, or irritate them. So that I don’t overstay my welcome, post too many posts, hog the airwaves, or dominate the conversation.

That which is easy to talk about can be hard to justify sharing. However, it is not necessarily unworthy of sharing. The stuff that feels most risky isn’t always the deep, personal revelations and the fruits of your most boundary-pushing research. It might be the realities you accept every day, assuming that everyone else already knows what you know. We don’t, and we can all benefit from hearing your perspective: what you’ve learned and what you see.

Where are you already putting your work out into the world? Feel free to drop a link in the comments.