Monks really don’t do much presenting. When they do address a crowd, they’re always sitting, and one can’t help but think that people listen as much because it’s just sort of unconscionable not to listen to a monk. I know they’re not allowed to be vindictive, but do you really want to risk coming back as a warthog, or worse, a Cavs fan?
And so we listen when these robed guys open their mouths and we pretend to understand what they’re saying. When they’re through, a funny thing has happened: we sort of feel warm and cuddly and inspired to be a better, simpler person.
Those of us who live in the middle of the road tend to keep our distance from extremists. Something about limitless commitment can be a little intimidating when all you want is a pesto panini from Panera and, on Fridays, a latte. But monks don’t make us feel that way, do they? Maybe it’s a study in color theory and the way burnt orange pacifies the conscience, or maybe there’s something to be said for a world view that is as accepting as it is trenchantly idealistic.
Whatever it is about monks, one thing is for certain: if we presenters could send audiences away feeling inspired to be their very best–even if they didn’t quite understand us–we’d all be doing quite well. But too often we get tunnel vision: we forget that an audience is made up of little, tiny individuals, each with their own little tiny thoughts. If you want to lead an audience to a conclusion, it can’t be your way or the highway. A gentle but firm approach provides both the empathy and the concrete, the two sides of the dynamic presentation coin.
In the end, even if you won’t shave your head, commit to celibacy, and don a flowing robe for the remainder of your life or lives, you still need to inspire trust automatically. That means offering a hand that accepts and a hand that challenges.
Question: How do you communicate acceptance and empathy to your audience? How do you challenge them without overpowering them?
