His big, tear-filled eyes looked across
the table at her. I thought my heart would explode from the cuteness.
“Mom,
I don’t want to eat my broccoli. Please don’t make me.”
Mom replies, “Honey, I told you if you want ice cream for dessert you have to eat all
of your vegetables.”
“But
you didn’t eat any dinner and only had ice cream.”
The kid had a point. We laughed from
the irony.
I see a bigger lesson for myself in
this, and not just about broccoli or ice cream. For most of my life I think I
gave people advice I wasn’t willing to take or I challenged them to do things I
had never had the balls to do.
I don’t think I’m alone in that, I
think it’s quite normal.
I wonder how many times we make
judgments about what someone should do or say, or offer advice we have no
experience in. Don’t we tend to believe we are an expert when it comes to
someone else’s life? On the other hand, how often do we get challenged to do
something the other person has never done?
How many books do we read where we
question if the author actually lives what they write?
How many teachers have we had who teach
something they’ve never lived?
How many speakers do we see where they
sound good but somewhere in our gut we smell bullshit?
How many parents tell their kids
something just to make them feel better or avoid conflict?
Brene Brown turned this idea on its
head for me, truly. That woman is one of the strongest people I can imagine,
not because she’s super badass and puts people in their place but because she
actually lives what she preaches: vulnerability. I see it in her work, I hear
it in her podcasts and talks, and her examples continuously expose those parts
of myself I try so hard to cover.
Simply put, her biggest gift is that
she gives permission to be messy.
See, the overarching problem with us is not that we
judge others but that we don’t share openly and without fear, which then teaches others to shield themselves and the cycle perpetuates itself. If we had no fear
of what people thought, we’d all be living life very different. Social media
wouldn’t be a competition, every conversation would be honest and exposing, and
we would hold fewer resentments because the air between people would be clearer.
We muddy things by hiding behind our
personalities and resisting vulnerability. It's hard.
Vulnerability is a practice, a lifestyle... an art.
I gave a talk at a conference last
summer titled “The Art of Vulnerability." As the Universe so humorously does, I
had a lesson in vulnerability before speaking it. I battled through writing
the talk because the desire to appear strong, collected, and together was
significant. I didn’t want to show the soft parts of me. I wanted to sound
competent and articulate... I wanted to
‘wow’ the audience. Well, when the topic is vulnerability I think we have to
throw all other layers of ourselves aside and be uncomfortable in our truth.
And that’s just what I did.
I shared about my life’s journey, my
brokenness, my wholeness, and a bunch of honest stories that related to the
idea that we cannot take someone where we aren’t willing to go. Wouldn’t you
know that a hundred people came up to me after the talk to ask about more
conversation about vulnerable living?
I am by no means an expert in this, but
I spread some goodness there. Vulnerability begets vulnerability.
Relate this to work, school, business,
leadership, or relationships. You have no foundation for an experience you’ve
never had. Start experimenting and growing and inviting others for the ride. And
eat your vegetables. I do.
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