Be The Bison

I’m watching myself perform on national television... this is WILD.

I'm sitting on the couch last night, looking at the TV with a dumbfounded expression on my face, and my heart rate starts picking up speed. All I can think is “that's me... on national TV..."

A while back, I got invited to be on an episode of the TV show Stories From The Stage alongside a spectacular group of storytellers, and our episode premiered last night. We told a story connected to a specific theme as part of a live event with a studio audience. The theme was "hidden gifts."

Leaning forward with my forearms on my knees, I'm thinking about all the times I've stood in front of a group of people and divulged bits of my life. Memories cycle through my head of star-lit circles on camping trips with people wearing headlamps as an audience—shining a spotlight on whoever's turn it was to tell a story. On one of those trips, I'd learned my favorite fun-fact about American bison this way. We were winter camping in Wyoming and one of our trip leaders told me the story behind the hip-sled I'd been using to drag my gear through the snow all week. Each person in the group had one, and they all had labels so we knew whose was whose. Mine came with the label "Tatonka." It means Bison in Lakota Sioux.

"Bison," the leader had said, "walk head-first into oncoming storms instead of waiting for the storm to get to them." He went on to clarify that it's because they can handle it; they spend their whole lives practicing. That made sense to me. They had the tools—the fur, the strength, the stature. But using the tools repeatedly is what makes them good at facing storms. Disposition, practice, and iteration. That's why it's beneficial for them to go through storms. It's what carries them to the calmer weather on the other side faster.

I shake my head, remembering one job where I flew around the country speaking at events... amazed by the confidence I'd felt back then. In some ways, I think it was like necessary armor. It had been a way to psych myself up and then insulate me from the recourse of any mistakes, fumbles, or follies. I think about the many mistakes I've made, and all of the skills I've gained by facing the scary storm of public speaking over, and over, and over since.

Now, with my heart still hammering in my chest, I'm watching myself tell a story on TV and I'm shocked by how calm I look up there. Confident, too. I feel like laughing. Apparently, I'm more nervous to watch myself perform than I was to actually be on stage and record this thing in front of a studio audience. I didn't need to psych myself up for it with that old version of confidence-armor for this one.

This had felt really natural.

Standing on that stage, I'd felt perfectly comfortable... enjoying the weather on the other side of the storm.

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Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
233/365

Do you head into storms, wait for them, or turn away?

onward.

For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.