About When You Are Talking To Someone Else
You: When you are talking to a person or a large audience, you're actually giving a special gift.
Me: Oh, that completely changes everything, doesn't it? When you think of it as a gift instead of a performance or a pitch. The whole energy shifts.
You: Right? Because a gift is about generosity, not about proving something. You're not trying to impress anyone; you're trying to give them something valuable.
Me: And gifts are personal. Even when you're speaking to a large audience, thinking of it as a gift makes you consider what they actually need, not just what you want to say.
You: Yes! The worst speakers are the ones taking from the audience—taking their time, their attention, their energy—without giving anything back.
Me: The takers. They're up there meeting their own needs—to be seen as smart, to be validated, to sell something—but they're not actually giving anything to the people listening.
You: It's extractive. Like they're mining the audience for applause or sales or ego fuel.
Me: But when someone genuinely approaches speaking as gift-giving, you can feel it immediately. Their whole presence is different. They're not nervous in the same way because they're focused on what they're giving, not what they're getting.
You: That's such a good point about nervousness. When you're worried about being judged, you're focused on yourself. When you're focused on giving a gift, you're thinking about them.
Me: And ironically, that's when you become most compelling. People are drawn to generosity. We can sense when someone genuinely wants to share something valuable with us.
You: What kinds of gifts can we give through speaking?
Me: Oh, so many. Inspiration, obviously. But also permission—permission to see things differently, to feel things, to try something new. Understanding—helping people make sense of something complex. Connection—making people feel less alone in their experience.
You: Permission is a big one for artists. Like when you share your struggles and someone in the audience realizes they're not the only one who feels like a fraud sometimes.
Me: The gift of "me too." That's huge. Or the gift of possibility—when you show them what's possible through your own journey. Not bragging, but genuinely sharing the path so others can see it.
You: And technical knowledge—the practical gifts. How you actually made something, what materials you used, the failures that taught you something.
Me: Those are generous gifts because you're potentially helping competitors, right? When an artist shares their techniques freely, that's real generosity.
You: But here's what I've noticed—the artists who share most freely seem to be the most successful. It's like the generosity comes back to them.
Me: Because people remember who gave them something valuable! If you're the artist who taught them that technique or gave them that insight, you become part of their story.
You: You become part of their story—that's beautiful. Your words become part of their practice.
Me: Which is why it matters so much HOW you give the gift. A gift given grudgingly or arrogantly isn't really a gift.
You: Right, like those speakers who share information but in a way that makes you feel stupid for not already knowing it.
Me: The poisoned gift! "Here's this information you should obviously already have." That's not generous; that's condescending.
You: So the how you say it is actually part of the gift itself.
Me: Exactly. The tone, the pace, the warmth—that's the wrapping paper. You can give someone the most valuable information, but if you deliver it with contempt or indifference, you've ruined the gift.
You: And the opposite—you can share something simple, but if you do it with genuine care and enthusiasm, it becomes precious.
Me: Yes! I've seen artists talk about basic color mixing with such joy and generosity that it felt like learning magic. The information was simple, but the gift was in the sharing.
You: The gift was in the sharing. That feels like the key to everything we're talking about.
Me: Because sharing implies relationship. You're not broadcasting; you're connecting. You're creating a moment of exchange.
You: Which is why reading from a script feels so wrong. You can't give a gift while reading from notes—it becomes a transaction.
Me: Oh, that's good. Transactions versus gifts. When you're reading, you're completing a transaction—delivering information. When you're really speaking, you're offering a gift.
You: And gifts require presence. You have to be there, actually there, to give a gift.
Me: Which is why virtual presentations can feel so flat sometimes. It's harder to give a gift through a screen because the presence is mediated.
You: But not impossible. I've seen people give incredible gifts through virtual talks—it just requires more intention.
Me: More intention to push through the digital barrier. You have to really want to reach people, to give them something despite the distance.
You: What about unwanted gifts? Because sometimes speakers give you things you didn't ask for—their trauma, their opinions, their whole life story...
Me: laughs The overshare gift! That's not really a gift though, is it? That's someone using the audience as therapy. They're not giving; they're processing.
You: Using the audience as therapy—that's exactly what it is.
Me: And we can feel the difference. A gift considers the receiver. Therapy considers the speaker. Even if you're sharing personal struggle, if it's a gift, you've thought about how it serves the audience.
You: How it serves the audience, not how it serves you.
Me: Right. The best personal stories in presentations are the ones where the speaker has already processed the emotion and can now offer the insight. The gift is the wisdom, not the raw wound.
You: The wisdom, not the wound. Though sometimes showing the scar is part of the gift?
Me: Absolutely, but it's a healed scar you're showing, not an active bleed. "Here's where I was hurt and here's what I learned" is a gift. "I'm currently bleeding, please help" is a request.
You: And audiences know the difference immediately.
Me: They do! And they're generous when someone's giving a gift, even if the speaker stumbles. But they get resentful when they realize they're being used.
You: So when you approach speaking as gift-giving, the whole dynamic changes. You're not performing; you're sharing. You're not taking; you're giving.
Me: And you're not afraid in the same way because rejection of a gift doesn't diminish you. If someone doesn't want what you're offering, that's okay. The gift was still generous.
You: That's so freeing. The gift was still generous even if not everyone receives it.
Me: Which takes us back to authenticity too. The most valuable gift you can give is your genuine perspective, your real experience, your actual insights. Not what you think people want to hear.
You: Because that's the gift only you can give.
Me: Exactly! Anyone can recite information. Only you can give your specific understanding, your particular way of seeing. That's the irreplaceable gift.
You: And when you realize that, speaking becomes less scary. You're not competing; you're contributing.
Me: Contributing! Yes. Adding your verse to the conversation. Offering your piece to the puzzle.
You: So every time you speak—to one person or a thousand—you have the opportunity to give a gift.
Me: And the generosity of that intention changes everything—your voice, your presence, your impact. People don't remember what you said as much as they remember what you gave them.
You: What you gave them. Whether that's confidence, or permission, or understanding, or just the feeling of being seen.
Me: The feeling of being seen might be the biggest gift of all. When a speaker really sees their audience—their needs, their struggles, their possibilities—and speaks to that? That's transformational.
You: So it's not just giving a gift. It's giving the right gift to the right people at the right moment.
Me: Which requires such presence and attention. You have to really see who's in front of you and what they need.
You: And be willing to adjust your gift accordingly.
Me: The responsive gift. Not changing who you are, but recognizing what would be most generous in this moment, with these people.
You: That's mastery, really. When your speaking becomes responsive gift-giving.
Me: And it all starts with that shift in perspective—from "I have to perform" to "I have something to give."
You: From performance to generosity.
Me: That's the shift that changes everything.
