When I see people on stage, I used to think. “I can’t do that … but I wish I could.” I think of how lucky the extroverts of the world are. Extroverts have no problem talking in front of people. They get energized by attention and people. I get drained.
After two weeks of a pandemic, isolated at home, and enjoying the quiet alone time, I finally think to myself … “I wish I had someone to talk to.” I get a little anxious as I pace the house, feeling just a little trapped, every day is now the same. Can someone really spend that much time preparing food and eating it? In between, I watch video courses streaming online. At least, I’ll make some use of this time. The monotony of the days starts to close down on me. The house seems to be getting smaller. I try to go outside, but the echo chamber of my head reverberates with thoughts that are now so loud that I can barely stand it. And I think to myself, “this must be what extroverts feel like after a couple hours alone … it took me two weeks.”
I think back to the prior year when I was at the National Storytelling Festival seated with hundreds of others under circus-type tents. The Master Storyteller, Donald Davis, takes the stage calmly, just as I’ve watched him do many times on stages across the country. Donald Davis captivates me and hundreds of others with his personal stories. With the rest of the audience, I share silent moments and roaring laughter as if we are his instrument. After an hour, our seats feel harder than when we first sat down. I’m glad I have my seat cushion.
Later that day, he plants himself firmly center stage to start another one of his many performances. He begins, “Many people think I’m a extrovert because I’m up here on stage, but I’m an introvert. On this stage, there’s a huge space between you and me, … and I’m safe up here.” The whole audience laughs, and in a moment, he has let me know that I too can be up on stage just where he is.
The stage is not just for extroverts, but for those with something deep inside needing to come out. Now when I mount the stage, I let go of the anxiety because I am safe. I am here. I am in service of the story. I am prepared. I know my story so well that it seems to just flow through me. The jolt of aliveness awakens every cell. What you see is me, unapologetically, but you see me from behind the safety of my story and across the stage.
Watch Kevin Yang – How to Love Your Introvert (Spoken Word Poetry)
It has been eye-opening to me to learn that so many storytellers are introverts. The poet was great!
Yes, the structure of the stage creates a nice safe container. When I get off the stage, I have to remember… just pretend I’m back on stage. Oh no, now I have to make conversation. I have not prepared any material to be entertaining. Then, I remember, I can just be quiet again. Other people like to talk. It’s ok. Then, I see myself launch into a story… here we go. On the other hand, I love meeting extroverts. It’s like meeting a whole new animal that I don’t understand. I study them carefully. It’s like you extroverts are on stage all the time, and you know what to do. Perhaps we’re all just learning how to meet each other in the middle and find balance. 🙂