Authentic presence as the first line of communication

In the early days of Sparkle Stories, I would tell stories in schools and churches and coops to not only spread the news of our business, but to develop my storytelling chops. There was a particularly pivotal event that took place in Austin, when I arrived at a parent-child coop to find that my storytelling audience consisted of children two years old and younger.

Two year olds can sometimes listen to a traditional story so long as it is short and to the point. One year olds, however, aren’t that interested in the content. They don’t really follow the plot or character development, and they can’t really appreciate your accurate descriptions or authentic narrative nuance. And six month olds? No chance—none of the above.

 

So I was faced with something new.

As a former elementary school teacher, I knew how to adapt a story between the grades. And as a professional storyteller, I knew what I needed to do to meet the needs of a four or five or even three year olds. But two and under was new.

It didn’t take long to realize that what these little listeners were interested in was actually my voice, my vocality. They liked my body language, the way my hands moved. They responded to my posture, my countenance, and what I learned was the most important of all forms of communication: my presence.

I felt my body in space. I noticed what quality of energy was moving through me. I attended what thoughts and feelings I was experiencing, and then I focused on being with them. I did tell a story, but the content was clearly for the parents in the room. What I noticed was how immediately these little ones responded to my presence. When my energy changed from alert to calm, they responded. When my countenance changed from droopy to upright, they responded. My flickers of doubt showed up for them like colors shone from a light. My comfort with silence became another being in the room. My presence was communicating. It was the primary message they were receiving.

Since then, I have discovered that five year olds, teenagers, and grown-ups are the same. When people reflect on a story, a speech, a conversation or just an interaction, they often mention presence. “It was lovely to be around them,” or “Something felt off,” or “What he said was correct but did you see the look in his eyes?”

Presence is primary.

This has since become the first storytelling tool I teach both adults and kids. We lead with presence. We start with taking an inventory: describing different states of being you experience every day

 

Delighted is a kind of presence. So is overwhelmed. So is preoccupied. So is serene (my favorite). There is no judgement with this inventory, we are simply noting what is so—what is actually happening.

See what you think. I’d love to hear how they land and what is useful. I really believe it is the secret sauce to effective and connective speech.