Chapter 14. 100 Percent All-Natural Passion
To do and to be: These are the actions that define great presentations. Do a set of practical tasks: Brainstorm, outline, design, practice, and speak. Be a set of qualities: confident, charismatic, calm, prepared, and insightful. The quest to build, design, and deliver great presentations comes down to these two simple verbs: do and be. Do everything right, and be absolutely incredible.
Everything in life, in fact, boils down to these two verbs. They answer a single, vital question: Who am I? It's 2011 and we have thousands of years of history to serve as a guide for how we ought to live our lives. We have both good and bad examples. However, we get so caught up in our day-to-day activities that we forget how many of our questions have already been answered by other people in other times. How should I live? What do I want? Where do I find meaning and purpose? The answers are so simple, they're almost unsatisfactory: I am what I do. I am what I am.
The great men and women of history are great because of what they did and what they stood for. Greatness isn't given even to those who inherit thrones on the basis of blood; how many sons of kings have disappeared from the pages of history with barely a mention? Likewise, how many paupers have risen up to redefine the very shape of human existence? Everything that we know about what should and should not be is irrelevant. Everything that we have been up to this very moment is irrelevant. The message we carry, the business we've built, the products we manufacture—all of these things are insignificant until our work is done. We will all be judged by generations of humans that do not yet even exist. In other words: we still have time.
If kings can be forgotten, the forgettable can still become kings. Yesterday's failures and abysmal presentations persist only when we fail to replace them with loftier achievements and greater efforts. Every morning is an opportunity to redefine our own existence, to change what we do and who we are, both now and forever. We can spend our time questioning the higher purpose of our lives; however, knowing that we'll never know, we ought to simply get to work advancing our best guesses. No one has any reason to know better than you or me how this world ought to be. In the end, what comes about comes about because some individuals stood up and tried very, very hard to change their world, and others didn't.
We cannot save the world. Presentation gods don't wield final justice. But our efforts can build legacies upon which our families can stand, achievements that prop up generations of people. What you do every day matters. Life is for the living, so who among us is going to live? I intend to advance my causes (not just my cause for better presentations, but everything I care about) because I know and trust myself. The values and qualities you hold in your heart are worth sharing and imparting. Do you know and trust yourself?
Yes, this is an emotional plea. And yes, I'm lecturing people on how to live their lives. I know I'm supposed to be teaching you how to give a great presentation, but that's just the thing: I am. The presentation format hasn't changed in any significant way since the first caveman stood up to address his peers with the most eloquent series of grunts he could muster, stating (I assume), "I have an idea that might help a lot of us avoid being ingested by various large predators." That man changed the world, indeed.
What does it mean for a form of communication to resist change over thousands of years of human existence? What does it tell us about ourselves—about our very nature—that we prefer to be personally addressed by our leaders? Every kind of information that exists could be better communicated in a hundred different ways: every chart, graph, concept, and idea might be more easily conveyed through a take-home pamphlet accompanied with an explanatory DVD. Yet we still come together as groups 30 million times a day to listen to an individual talk. It's primal, and no matter how much we complain and mock the situation, we dignify it over and over again simply by partaking in it.
While newspapers collapse, magazines go bankrupt, television stations merge, and radio bandwidths go to auction, presentations carry on. There is no consolidation, no regulatory body that dictates what is and is not possible from the stage. We all have as much latitude as we have creativity and vision: We can do anything we want. All the technological innovations that are swirling around us only increase our opportunities. There is no question as to whether or not presentations will exist in 10 or 20 years. We'll still be stepping on stage with a precious message in our hands. It may be different from the message we carry today, but it will be our message, the representation of our personal and professional development up to the moment that we greet the audience. The format has not changed, nor will it: your efforts to perfect your approach will endure for as long as you have the heart and health to change your world.
The ultimate lesson in building, designing, and delivering presentations that dominate is learning how to live. Our minds expand to the extent that we consistently challenge and demand more from ourselves. Creativity, passion, and energy are infinite qualities: We possess each in spades when we organize our lives in such a way as to require them daily. The religion of perpetual increase is not our final destination; ours is a religion of efficacy. Whatever we do, whatever we choose to be, we should do and be those things to the absolute edge of possibility. Like the explorers of old, we, too, will discover that in fact there is no edge, only new worlds and new opportunities.
I say all these things because there is no perfect outline. No image has the power to change hearts and minds. No intonation or inflection has any more authority to bypass uncaring ears than any other. There is no magic way of saying or presenting any idea that has any influence at all without there being a person behind it. We are creatures of desire. We want all sorts of things for ourselves and our families, but the most ardent desire is to love and be loved—plain and simple. Therefore, no presentation has any power at all until a warm, caring, sincere human being delivers it. Audiences perceive these qualities in a million different ways according to a million different context clues and circumstances, making it impossible to create an excellent presentation by concocting some formulaic emotional presence. No, we must remember: There is no magic. Successful presentations require presenters who are willing to throw themselves into life with reckless abandon. Reservation is repulsive; passion is persuasive.
The ability to produce a great presentation is an excellent barometer for how well we are living life. Adages like, "failing forward" and "try until you succeed" may be trite, but they are true. If we don't believe in anything enough to feel compelled to share it from the stage, we ought to examine our lives very closely. Even if you value tolerance and acceptance, and feel everyone should be free to live as they choose, those values ought to be taught if they mean anything at all. The goal is not uniformity. If it were, I'd instruct all of you to obtain some sort of position with Apple, since Steve Jobs seems to have the most presentation momentum right now. We'd all get employee discounts on iPads and all the other gadgets we never knew we needed so badly, and life would be grand. No, this is not our pursuit: our pursuit is a turbulent, thrashing mosh pit of ideas and choices. I want it all presented with fervor and passion. How else can any of us begin to make sense of the world through our own eyes? We have to begin with sight, and good vision requires a proper presentation.
So where is your confidence? Where is your charisma? You may feel that you have less charisma than a homeless rodent with a penchant for garlic cheese and your-momma jokes—that is, that no one wants to be like you. But your life isn't chronological. It just feels that way. Every day is disjointed, and the things you think define you aren't facts; they're habits. Forget everything you know about yourself and ask a simple question: What do I care about? If you have a clear answer to that question, you have charisma. And to the human mind, charisma equals direction: We're all willing to follow someone, so long as we feel we're being taken somewhere important. Confidence and charisma are not inherent qualities; rather, they are the external display of internal passion. Stop trying to be something on the outside and start cultivating your innermost desires. That is where great presentations begin.
Relax. Before every presentation, we must relax. Pressure is a false feeling. A 30-year mortgage may be very real, but we find a way to pay it every month. Pressure isn't real; it is merely anxiety—pessimistic thoughts about what might happen. So forget it. Breathe, and focus on the minute-to-minute activities that actually have an impact on the events that unfold in your life.
Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs states that we must fulfill our most basic needs before we can actualize ourselves. Before we can become truly passionate about our ideals, we must eat and drink and sleep. So eat, and drink, and sleep. The being comes from the doing: focus on the little things that make us big things. The most profound legacies rest on very basic achievements like eating, drinking, and sleeping. Nothing is accomplished without first accomplishing simple, everyday tasks. While we focus on anxiety, pressure, and uncertainty, moments that we could have spent living life are flying by. Simplicity, like passion, is internal. It has nothing to do with living in the woods and in perfect harmony with nature, but everything to do with being calm and pragmatically doing the small things that move us toward real living. How you define "real living" is up to you, but the distance between you and your dreams isn't time. It's action. There is no string of minutes to be endured; there is a string of doings that need to be done.
In this book, I've laid out a series of doings that will have a remarkable impact on the palatability of your presentation. In other words, I've armed you with an approach that will keep your passion from tripping on your presentation's feet and keep you out of your own way. But if you don't have passion—if your message isn't pinging around your insides like a pinball—then really, who cares? Why bother? If you're not going to put your heart and soul into the message, you might as well hop up on stage with a single-slide deck and get right down to brass tacks: "I'm so-and-so, and I want your business because: (1) I guess I want my job; (2) my family wants to eat and we need at least a little money to do that; and (3) I don't know, just because." You can gloss it up. You can pay someone to design it. But there's no in-between: If you don't have passion, that is how you're presenting. That is what audiences are coming away with. Why even bother? Couldn't you at least sleep in or spend the day with a child? If you're not going to build a legacy, surely there is something you can do that is more immediately gratifying than stumbling through some half-assed presentation. Wake up. Get on with life, and save us all some precious time.
Go forth and brainstorm. Rise, and thoroughly outline your thoughts. Design your slides without hesitation or insecurity. Sure, everyone might laugh at you. They can always laugh, but they are in the audience because they need something: information, training, direction, or purpose. A problem solved; a new vision, perhaps. You're going on stage because you have that something. You do. You have what they all need. So stand up. Live your life. Go forth and dominate.