Apparently able to muster enough presence

On Tuesday of this week, I facilitated the first session of a 4-week class at the Soul-Esteem Center, a New Thought-oriented church in the St. Louis area. The co-founder and lead minister, Phyllis Clay-Sparks, uses the term, "spiritual confidence," which is inspiring to me.

I went to this class tired, spent, and a little burned out from a lot of trainings lately, and honestly was worried that I would be able to muster enough presence in order to connect with the participants and give them a taste of the magic of Nonviolent Communication.

In fact, I arrived just a few minutes prior to the class start time, only to find several of the participants wandering around the building, attempting to get inside -- except I had the key to open it. Quite an auspicious beginning!

Thankfully, I remembered something that have been a saving grace for me countless times when presenting NVC -- my own vulnerability. I didn't have much in my tank other than this, so I began the class by telling people my name and my present feelings and needs. I said something along the lines of, "Hi, my name is Jeff Brown, and I am the facilitator of this class. I am feeling a great deal of anxiety and nervousness, both because I don't know any of you and I long for connection; and also because I feel agitated from not taking care of myself. In fact, I am mourning how I have not been nurturing myself and feel scared that this might impact your experience of the class tonight. I'm curious how it is for all of you to hear this -- could a few of you tell me how you feel right now, after hearing me tell you this?"

What happened is what usually happens -- a long silence. Having gained some energy from revealing myself vulnerably, I had enough energy to silently empathize with people. I imagined that they were somewhat shocked to hear a presenter begin a class in this fashion; that they were integrating what they heard and needed a little bit of time to process it; and also that they might be feeling nervous about revealing their own feelings to other people they didn't know yet either.

I remained in silent empathy for what I would guess was 20 or 30 seconds -- it seemed like a half an hour! -- and eventually someone spoke and told me that it was refreshing for them to hear the "authority figure" (i.e. the teacher) be so open about his/her feelings like that. Another person chimed it and said that it helped them relax and feel more comfortable being there.

I am continually struck by the, "Power of Vulnerable Honesty," and the effect it seems to have on relationships. My friend and fellow NVC trainer, Glenda Mattinson from Toronto, calls it, "Compassionate Honesty," and I like that term very much, too.

I have found that I become a very powerful being when I am able and willing to open myself up and share what's inside of my heart, absent any blame or judgment of others (or of myself). This represents a radical shift from what I was taught as a boy -- namely, that vulnerability is a weakness and that it's something shameful. NEVER allow yourself to be vulnerable, I learned. What a radical paradigm shift!