Thomas Sullivan

Several of my colleagues have written on the specifics of teaching, and I thought I’d address the soul-searching panic that can befall anyone who suddenly finds themselves called upon to give a speech, teach, or advise. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a single person asking you for advice or a trumped-up forum in which the local library has decided you should entertain the patrons at their monthly soiree, the pitfalls are the same. It can come as a shock when you realize that something you’ve done has settled a mantle of presumed wisdom on you – wisdom you don’t have. You may decide to hide, fake laryngitis, or – if you are one of those confident but lonely types – tell your life story…again. If the request comes at you enough times, however, guilt is likely to turn you inside out searching for messages and honest value in your life.

And if you’re kicking around the scene at the pro level, you will face this. The first time you are introduced with shameless adjectives to a friendly audience, you may get a little intoxicated with the attention. But you know, the reality is that YOU are not being adulated and this isn’t perfect justice arriving on Earth for you as you and your mother always knew it would. This is people who are interested in something you represent, and they are willing to give you a hearing. They want to know what you have to say. And you do have something to say. At a minimum, the route you took in your own idiosyncratic life is a path that may offer clues to others. If you have a little pizzazz or can abstract your own “This is what I did” story into abstract components, all the better. And if you can actually start to analyze your audience and customize what you say to who they are – in other words give them the attention you want – you really will come off acquitted in the eyes of God. I don’t care which religious or non-religious handle you give God, or what non de plume, for that matter, there is a survival imperative for all of us to leave the world better than we found it. That’s your own personal ledger, and it can be accomplished in quiet and anonymous ways, but hey, you’re a writer. You already went “splash.” So ride that wave ashore and try not to drown any sand castles.

It may happen spontaneously, so trust yourself to be spontaneous. Scripted works less well. I’m not saying you won’t fall into buzzwords or repeating whole tracts verbatim. If you are called upon to teach enough times, you will. The most important thing, though, is to remember that you are first of all a student. You have to keep learning and adapting to everything around you. You have to value what there is to learn from others, even if it’s simply from observing them. Everyone is a teacher because they are part of life. If you don’t remember that, you WILL become irrelevant, and your irrelevancy will be all you have to teach: dead, static moments that were true for you at one point in your existence but quite possibly no longer are.

Contrary to what you might think, I’m an extremely private person who has lived virtually alone his entire life. I grew used to showing different aspects of myself in different settings, and never my total self to anyone – incredibly, I never let my guard down until this past year when I met someone so natural to me that it just happened. So I didn’t know who to be in front of a large audience. Used to bother me that I’d see a lot of the same people showing up for my stump speeches before widely disparate (or was it desperate) groups. I knew damn well I was saying some of the same things, word for word, same zingers. But kind listeners always swore that it was different, and one time someone told me, “…you’re different.” That stuck with me. I still don’t know exactly what that means, but I’ve come to trust it a little. I think people tune into energy (or lack of same) as well as optimism, and as long as you’re you, energy and optimism will convey as much as specific words. Yeah, I have up days and down. And every day I yearn for solitude, or something shared only with a soulmate, but if you focus on the audience – SINCERELY – you will come up to the task. They will motivate you. So even if you are repeating humongous sermons word for word, those will likely resonate, if you repeat them from the heart and not the head. And if you are focused on the individuals listening, what you say will vary, because you will adapt to them.

The more speaking you do, the easier it gets. In fact, you may find it becomes almost a reflex. Not didactic exactly, but more enthusiastic, sort of cajoling, purposeful though not taking itself too seriously. It can intimidate the hell out of you, if it catches you by surprise. You are holding forth one on one somewhere in public – a ski rental room, a restaurant, waiting in a doctor’s office – and suddenly you realize others are listening, people passing through are staying, or there might be just a hint of theater-like concentration. Either they are thinking, “Who does this asshole think he is?” or they are finding what you say more interesting than the Ranger Rick magazine they are reading while waiting for the sawbones to see them. Take it in stride. Remember, it’s not about you. Not unless you get carried away with yourself. In which case, everyone will know soon enough. So do your thing. Don’t be afraid to give. If you have no value, you’ll have no audience. And if you do have an audience, keep an objective distance from it.

There is a downside to this, I should tell you. It may drain you and – curiously – leave you lonely. Hmm. I should probably stop right here and draw the curtain. Consider this the advanced footnotes the author should have thrown away. But I’ve pondered long and hard as to why I always feel alone after I climb down from a soapbox. Of course, the answer may be as simple as, “Well, dummy, you DID stand on a soapbox – how was the air up there?” But even when the reaction is effusively kind, I feel that way. Maybe it’s an individual thing, but I want to believe it’s because I’m doing it for the right reasons. If I’m pedaling myself, my ego, it never works. Lots of experience with pedaling my ego. But if I’m truly trying to give, I forget myself, and in the aftermath I feel like I wasn’t there. This is absolutely the most valuable thing that could happen to you if you want to honestl
y give – forget yourself, do not be there. But you may pay that price afterward, as I do. Maybe that’s because the ego comes rushing back, all your little fantasies of personal acceptance and fulfillment. Or maybe it’s because you’ve just parsed yourself out, played the prostitute, and now you’re faced with the hard fact that no one knows what you’re really like. That’s what you need a soulmate for. Someone interested in and capable of understanding the unique you. God help the audience if they have to play that role. We’ve all sat through captive classes run by such needy souls, have we not? An audience can give you the delusion that you have recouped the frustrations and compromises of an incomplete life. So maybe that’s the touchstone as far as knowing if you did a good job speaking, i.e., if you don’t feel just a tad lonely and isolated afterward, you were probably wallowing in the rapport instead of the needs of the audience. I’ll take that limitation. I think a lot of entertainers get lost in the interaction. The audience becomes their soulmate. But it only lasts as long as the cameras role, the disks spin, or the footlights remain on. Then they go looking for themselves and are disappointed. It’s a lonely world.

Which brings me full circle to the point I tried to make about remaining a student. I don’t want to reach a destination. Soon after we become adults, most of us seem to anchor on a plateau inside ourselves where life doesn’t expand, and there we resign our futures to the slow ravages of time. It’s as if we get tired of looking for answers and just grab up whatever is in our lives at the moment, declaring, “I’m there.” I guess that’s security for some, but not for me. My security is in not running out of momentum or directions. And I don’t need to move very far to find both. I just have to continue to explore the world wherever I am – rather thoroughly. The universe truly is in a grain of sand. An audience is part of that. It is not a reward conferred upon you, not something permanent, not as meaningful or satisfying as a soulmate. It is more like a resting point, a place to pause and reflect for perspective. So is writing, for that matter. Actual living stops when the words pour out of you. Words are a summation of what you do and know – the long shadows and bright reflections of everything you see and explore. Have you lived today? Open a window and get some air, or come outside and breathe!

Thanks for reading. Your thoughts are welcome, your attention valued. My web site is below. If you’d like to see more of my writing, please check out the free sample chapter from my latest novel, THE WATER WOLF. And if you’d like to receive the monthly newsletter, ask to be added to the list at: mn333mn@earthlink.net

Thomas “Sully” Sullivan
http://www.thomassullivanauthor.com/