Earlier this week, I gave a talk to a crowd of over 60 people on mental toughness. As I prepared for this presentation, I relished in it. I love talking about the power of the mind, leading people through visualization, meditation, and talking about daily discipline. These are the types of books I have read, podcasts I listen to, or presentations that I pay to attend. I’ve had the pleasure over the years to walk on fire with Tony Robbins or hear the eloquent words of the late Louise Hay say “How you start your day, is how you live your day, and how you live your day is how you live your life.” I’ve led retreats on exactly these topics and get fired up talking about it and love sharing it.
And yet when I did the presentation, the audience was lackluster. There was minimal engagement as I walked through the crowd, and tried to get them to interact with me and what we were discussing. It was a forced workshop for this group. They were not there due to choice but requirement. Although there was applause at the end, I didn’t know if this was part of the forced expectations in this type of environment. As I briefed my colleagues in the office afterwards in regards to how this went, I was quite disappointed with the results. I let that talk go and move forward with the next tasks at hand.
Something surprised me later in the week. I unexpectedly had to meet individually with some of the people that were in the crowd for other work related reasons. As I met with them, they brought up what I had discussed in my presentation. People in the audience who showed no emotion and boredom when I talked, were actually listening and taking it in. One brought up manifestation or another himself being mentally tough but having difficulty with his spouse who is overly sensitive. One resonated with the importance of reflecting on how to make changes in his choices they made throughout the day.
This experience in some ways humbled me. I have talked to large crowds the size of 600-800 people, who were engaged and buzzing during my presentation and gave workshops frequently to USAF Special Operations. I’ve sat in audiences with some of the worlds top speakers and felt through osmosis I could get these people I was talking to excited to change their lives. But I observed minimal response. Admittedly my ego was a bit bruised, was it how I delivered the material? Was I not powerful enough? Succinct or engaging? Was this material not relatable to their everyday lives?
But it was only through small whispers did I later realize they were listening. I didn’t get the automatic crowd response I had hoped for but heard the impact in private conversations days later. And this is enough. This is the work. Not the acclaim but the tiny quiet ripple effect.
What I began to realize is perhaps the lesson in all of this is not wisdom I shared to this group this week, but not to make assumptions on the impact we have on others. Just because the initial response doesn’t look like a favorable result, there may be residual impact that lingers and emerges at a later point. We may never know the impact we have on others. I was lucky to hear comments from several people later in the week, but if I never did I would have perceived that presentation was a flop. But it did land on them. They did hear the essence of the talk.
It reminds me that whatever way that we are looking to serve the world, we may not receive accolades for the work we do. But we do make a difference. Nobody may thank us or let us know, but we impact each other. How we offer to positively shifts the world has a resonance, and don’t give up because you don’t think anyone is listening. They are, in more ways than you know. There may not be thunderous applause, but there may be shifts made.
It Only Takes A Smile 