Sunday Story – The Land of Pots and Pans

Today’s Sunday Story is from Tahir Shah. Enjoy!

Once upon a time there was a country called the Land of Pots and Pans where there were no games of any kind. No children ever played soccer or hopscotch, and no grown-ups ever played tennis or backgammon or chess. All they ever did was to gaze adoringly at the pots and pans they made, and all their conversation dwelled on how the could make even better pots and pans.

Then one day a man digging his field came across a chessboard and pieces, fashioned from the most beautiful dark blue stones flecked with gold. He had never seen a chessboard or pieces before and certainly had no idea of how to play chess.

He ran into the village with the object and marveled at it in the central square. Very soon a crowd gathered and soon after that the entire country had heard of the beautiful objects and of the man who had found them.

The farmer became famous and traveled far and wide displaying what he had found. When people asked him what the fabulous blue and gold board and pieces were for, as they sometimes did, he would laugh at them. ‘Are you so stupid that you think everything should have a purpose?’ he would shout. ‘This is art and that’s quite enough of a purpose!’

Eventually, news of the man’s great treasure spread beyond the borders of his own land and he received an invitation to the next country to show off the art. When he arrived at the capital of the country, the Land of Games, a banquet was held in his honor.

When all the guests had eaten their fill, the king stood up and asked the farmer if he would show the treasure. The man pulled out a box from under the banqueting table and showed the king the carved figures and the board. The monarch, who was a wise man, smiled. He guessed at once what had happened… that the people of the neighboring kingdom celebrated the beauty of an object but were blind it its deeper and original use.

Our society is in some ways like the Land of Pots and Pans. We all grow up hearing stories, and marvel at their ingenuity and their brilliance. But we forget that the stories, like the chessboard and pieces, have a far deeper and more instructive use. But all is not lost. We can be re-taught how to decode the messages in the tales that surround us, how to learn from them, in the same way that you can teach almost anyone the rules of chess. It will, of course, take them a lifetime to appreciate the full complexities of the game.

Stories are used to pass on ideas, information and values in Morocco and across the Arab world… in a way that we have almost lost in the West. We forget that stories have been used for millennia to teach — like a peach, the delicious flesh on the outside is there to amuse, to allow the inner value, the stone, to be passed on so that it can thrive. We relegate stories as an entertainment for children, while in actual fact they can be decoded and used to instruct.

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No words – a story

A beautiful piece from Cyrus Copeland

The black anger found me again.

Found and followed me through the forested hills of Asturia, hunted down and devoured entire days, and compelled me to admit my interior terrain is a mystery. Once again, I am deeply angry on one of the holiest paths on earth. Never mind why—what is important is that 300 miles later, I can’t shake my rage.

Outside the Cathedral in Avilles, a beggar stands guard. Bearded and dark-eyed, he motions for me to remove my hat. When I hand him a euro he indicates that I should remove my earbuds too. Stripped of hat, euro and earbuds, I wait for him to speak, but he just looks at me. Camino beggars are so mysterious and bossy! Come to think of it, he looks a bit like Rasputin.

And then two realizations: He is deaf/mute. And he is blessing me. I don’t know how I know this but I do. The little pocket of silence between us grows larger––as does a sense of awkwardness.

“We done?” I indicate with a thumbs-up, but still he says nothing.

And then all at once, I fall into his blessing.

For a good minute he holds me in his gaze and I fall deeper, then deeper, into a pocket of silence. It’s a bit like falling in love—that sense of communion that defies explanation or resistance. You just fall. And it is a lot like what I imagine grace to be. I’ve never been looked at so long without words. Outside a Camino cathedral, I’m falling in grace with a beggar.

And since it’s Sunday and I’m adjacent a house of God, I might as well confess: I’ve struggled with my anger, fought, accepted, and lost all control over its artillery. But standing before him, silence blossoms. It’s the exact opposite of those Christian revival meetings you see on TV––possessed people flailing. Dispossessed of my fury, I feel only a deepening sense of marvel and a silence that falls like snow on scorched earth.

Had he seen all the hot anger I’d dragged to his cathedral? I’ve been blessed by priests before, men who lay a soft hand and intone a few words, but don’t hold a candle to the power of this wordless man. You’ve heard of the peace that surpasses all understanding? Here it is.

Finally and deeply, here it is.

A minute or so later he’s finished and for the next hour, I wander through town, from café to café, trying to understand what just happened. He’s too powerful and proud to be a beggar, this guy. Too mystical. With his beard and piercing eyes, he even looks biblical. Here’s what I’m wondering––was it James returned to aid his failing pilgrim? James who’s known to appear on the path and lend a hand to the dispossessed, the unjustly accused, the betrayed? Camino lore is full of such stories.

The following day on the road to Villaviciosa, I can’t locate the heat in my head. I look for it––out of pattern, boredom, curiosity––but no matter how hard I try to access my rage, I can’t. It’s gone. In its place I find myself weeping. Whether from relief or the spiritual contact high, or the wonder of it all, I can’t say. Fortunately the Camino Norte is a sparsely traveled path because for the next two weeks, I basically weep my way to Santiago.

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Two hundred miles later, I’m standing at doorstep of St. James’s cathedral––bright in the morning sun. Its Romanesque exterior has been recently restored and its gargoyles and statuary refreshed. It’s breathtaking. But inside, a cacophony of scaffolding, netting and plastic rolls obscures the cathedral’s treasures. For the first time in 900 years, there will be no mass here because the interior is under renovation.

Today I am one of over 3000 pilgrims arriving in Santiago, carrying broken love stories and overheated minds and pre-chemo bodies across continents to lay at James’s doorstep. Our interiors are under repair too. We are our own cathedrals of stripped-down beauty. I’ve walked 500 miles––half in anger, half in grace. We drag all our messy humanity with us across the miles.

When no one is looking, I descend a flight of stone steps into St. James’s burial chamber and lay my walking stick before him. My thanks for delivering me through the most difficult terrain of my life. James himself was a terrible proselytizer. Words failed him when it came to spreading the Word, but he walked across continents. He had anger issues––Jesus dubbed him “Son of Thunder”––but he walked through those too. Having stolen his thunder and spent it all over Spain, I can attest: you just keep walking.

Above, the clamor of renovation continues. Here in the tiny crypt silence reigns. I could spend hours in the dark, cool holiness of this cave. Having lain down my walking stick, I wing a few prayers skyward and fall back into silence.

Words failed James. They failed the deaf-mute. They fail me now.

Nothing will equal the ineffable beauty of this moment.

And this one.

And this one.

I’m thinking about the beggar and the gift he bequeathed. Grace is like love, see? (Or maybe it is love?) You don’t get it because you deserve it––the reasons, delivery and form are up to a power much greater and more mysterious than anything we can fathom. You can’t rationalize it. It turns up when you least expect it. It’s God’s magic trick. The quarter behind the ear. The rope trick. And no one who receives it will ever be the same. But having traveled 500 miles, I’ve learned a thing or two––or three––to get you started.

Take off your hat. Take out your earbuds. Fish out a euro.

Open yourself to the world and its infinite paths, and see what happens.

The real magic is never where you think. It’s not here inside this glorious cathedral, in this loveliest of cities, built around the bones of a beloved saint. It’s at the threshold of another far less impressive one, guarded by wordless men of unimaginable power. It’s always that way.

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3 Branding stories speakers need in every speech to move hearts and get results.

 

Who are you?
And what stories are you telling about yourself?
If you want to move hearts
and/or make profits
when you speak,
your audience needs to know who you are,
so that they can give you their full attention, engagement and trust.
It’s the same with any communication.  When you meet someone, socially, or to do business, you need to know who they are so you can deal with them for the best outcome.
Baldly put, from the moment you begin, to your last word, gesture, interaction, your audience is choosing whether or not they will listen, engage, respond, buy, change grow, do in the way that you are requesting of them.

They aren’t doing it consciously, of course.
And I’m sure you have been in an audience yourself
one where you have felt  – the energy, freedom, light-bulb feelings
or you may have felt the sudden or gradual disconnect, discontent, feeling of awkwardness and it becomes the distinct knowledge that you do not like – know – trust this speaker.
You may politely have stayed and listened before escaping. You may have got up and walked away.
And as a speaker,
you may have felt the exhilaration, glow and fulfillment of engaging with your audience, having them lean in to what you are saying, your message.
You may have also felt the opposite, an audience who, at the very most, are blandly polite, and from whom you have zero results, follow-up or rehires.
So you know that this does happen, you’ve seen and felt the process and the results.
It can be daunting, and oftentimes confusing, not knowing just where the disconnect was, or how you can increase your engagement, connection and influence, inspiration and success.
In many cases this lack of connection is because the speaker has missed one of those basic, but essential, elements of communicating their character and their unique brand.
The first story that we need to tell to establish that character and brand is

“I AM REAL.”

In marketing terms it is called “Be liked”
In Aristotle’s study of Rhetoric it is “pathos”.
For us today, let’s call it emotion.
It’s probably the most easily felt when it’s at work and often feels the most powerful in terms of being liked and in terms of persuasion as well.
This is a speaker who is perceived as real, authentic, speaking in a real voice.  They show their passion, share their stories, get personal.
They are responsive to the audience, engaging and taking an interest.
They show they care by being relevant to the audience, and their body language is real and authentic.
Nevertheless, on its own, pathos is not enough.
You will probably have heard that people buy on emotion and justify on logic.
But at the time, they are not consciously thinking that.  They probably just feel unsettled, unsatisfied.
The second story that we need to tell is

“I AM CREDIBLE”.

In marketing terms it is called “Be known”
In Aristotle’s study of Rhetoric it is “logos”.
For us today, let’s call it logic.
This is probably the most automatic process of content creation and delivery that speakers use and the one most often taught by traditional speaking systems.
We need to make sense, logical sense.
This process appeals to reason. It uses fact and evidence to support its arguments and points made.
You would present formulae and empirical evidence.
Give your ideas names and labels, and provide case studies of their success.
It’s what your audience will use to justify their belief in you.
And finally, for your audience to trust you, the third story that you need to tell is

“I AM TRUSTWORTHY.”

In marketing terms it is called “Be trusted”
In Aristotle’s study of Rhetoric it is “ethos”.
For us today, let’s call it ethical.
This is a speaker who keeps promises and delivers consistent quality.
There will be no plagiarism in their speeches and they develop very clear messages.
This person avoids jargon.
You can feel yourself knowing that this speaker is trustworthy.
You will know that you can trust your emotions to them and that the logic they delivered will consistently be delivered.
…..
I have used the word “know” there, in that last sentence.  I used the word “conscious” earlier.
We have talked about these essentials that you need to attend to,
as if the deliberate process that you used to create them
were the same as the intellectual response that they produce in an audience
– deliberate and conscious –
and it’s not.
When you speak the stories about yourself with these techniques, it feels natural, woven as it is into the flow of your presentation.
And to your audience, again, it feels natural.  They don’t notice that you are doing it deliberately (unless they are trained in public speaking and are assessing your skill!!!)
But the response is there all the same – a feeling, an emotion, a triggered response that will mean you have built connection, credibility, likeability and trust.  (or not!!!)
And the feeling for you will be of satisfaction, of wholeness and of connected engagement and the power of delivering the result you planned.

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Speaking from the heart


I suspect this was well-rehearsed and yet seemed so natural, so conversational.
Do you want to speak to inspire?
We could all do well to learn from this man and the presentation –
repetition,
a mantra,
storytelling skills,
timing,
structure …

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Three vital elements of story for speakers

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[Quick public speaking tip]… and the moral of the story is ….

storytelling (1)We are wired for story.
For hundreds of years, we passed on our culture, our values and the understandings necessary for survival, verbally, using story.
Our stories had a moral. All of them. There were lessons to be learned and we knew they were valuable.
We are wired to look for the moral, the point of the story.
What an opportunity to tell a story and have your audience expecting the point you are going to make!
What a shame then, if we tell a story and don’t make a point. What a waste.
And what a let-down for the audience.
The moral is – “Don’t waste your stories”.

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[Quick public speaking tip] Data and story

hans_rossling_TEDI teach a lot about using stories. Stories are incredibly powerful speaking tools.
I coach clients to choose stories that support a point, that supplement data and that make data come alive.
But not always.
The image above is, of course, Hans Rossling presenting data. It comes from the Superflux blog And Hans has a wonderful ability to present data – but in this case to a TED audience who respond well to his particular style of data wrapping.
Sometimes an audience is different.
It expects the data, thinks in terms of data, has an inbuilt radar that rejects the stories behind it as irrelevant.
Sometimes, the data tells its own story. It builds engagement on its own because both presenter and audience know the story behind it. It is a language, a communication, all of its own.
For that audience, probably, stories will have their place, but the story placement will need to be very judiciously chosen, using criteria that are very different from those for an audience, say, that needs to have data wrapped up in story… or the visualisation that Hans Rossling has made his own!
Quick tip? … as always … know your audience… and for me as a coach – part of the coaching process it to remind clients to check in mentally with the culture in which they will be speaking.

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Public Speaking quote – adding soul to your data

Maybe stories are just data with a soul.
~ Brené Brown

Are you using stories to make your data more attractive and effective?

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Storycatcher – making sense of our lives through the power and practice

Making Sense of our lives through the power and practice of Storytelling
by Christina Baldwin
Christina Baldwin’s work on Story…the art, the practice, the importance of telling and re-telling stories in our lives is a stunning masterpiece. Woven beautifully with fragments and selections of her own stories, Baldwin once again instructs, enchants and inspires the reader about the critical nature and importance of the individual stories of all of us. Whether it’s to build community, heal generational wounds, create stronger organizations, leave a legacy, or simply to pass on information, Baldwin’s narrative builds a compelling case for the power of “storycatching.” A magnificent read…and a wonderful gift to give. What will be the questions you carry to ask of yourself and others? A must-have!!