You're NOT standing in front of an audience... You ARE that Audience!
BUT, Before we begin...
If you’ve ever felt your throat close before a big moment.
Had something true to say, but your body said “DON'T”
Felt like your voice was too shaky, too raw, or too much to be heard...
This story my friend is for you.
It’s not about performance.
It’s about light.
And what happens when we finally stop hiding it.
You Ready?
The Man & The Lantern
(A story about fear, light, and the truth that WANTS to speak)
There was once a man who carried a glowing lantern inside him.
Not a bonfire. Not a spotlight. Just a quiet, steady light.
It pulsed with everything he’d lived, learned, and come to know, but rarely shared 🥹
He wasn’t hiding it 'cause it lacked value.
He was hiding it because every time he tried to show it, his body rebelled.
The moment he stood in front of others, even in a small room, or among friends...
his throat tightened.
Breath shortened.
And mind scattered like birds startled off a wire.
He’d trained for this.
👉Joined speaking groups.
👉Practiced on Zoom.
👉Read the books.
👉Watched the TED talks.
And yet still... when it was time to be seen, the fear returned.
Familiar. Heavy. Ancient.
He thought maybe something was wrong with him.
Maybe some people just aren’t meant to “share their voice.”
But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true.
Because, you know what?
The light inside him DIDN'T fade.
It longed to be seen.
The Old Speaker...
One day, after another shaky attempt to speak his truth in a room full of half-watching eyes,
an old speaker approached him and said something that stuck...
“Dedo, You’re not afraid of public speaking.
You’re afraid of dropping the lantern in front of 👉them👈
Of being seen in the moment it shatters.”
(It landed like a thud in his chest.)
The old speaker wasn’t mocking him. He understood.
“But here’s the thing,” he said, leaning in.
“Everyone in that room is carrying their own lantern, too.
And most of them have either buried it, dimmed it, or let someone else blow it out.”
“So when you step up there, even with shaking hands and a cracking voice,
and you show them your light... even if it flickers?
You remind them they still have theirs.”
“That’s not public speaking.
That’s public remembering.”
The Shift!
And from that moment, everything shifted.
Not 'cause the fear disappeared.
But because the man finally understood what it meant.
It wasn’t about being perfek...
Or about captivating or performing or proving.
It was about CONNECTING!
So he stopped trying to control the fear.
Instead, he spoke with it.
Lantern in hand. Heart pounding. Light forward.
And guess what?
... something strange started happening.
People didn’t remember the cracks in his voice.
They remembered the warmth.
The hum of truth. The glimpse of something REAL.
They leaned in, not because he dazzled them with polish and creases.
But because they saw themselves in his trembling hand, holding something sacred.
We don’t need more polish.
We need "authenticity"
To speak what’s real.
To let the light show.
Even if the hand holding it shakes.
So if you’ve been feeling the weight of that fear? Good.
It means your lantern is ready to be seen.
Your move... 😁
I’m not a real good speaker in front of crowds.
Having done it a few times, and I’ve been in positions to have to make impromptu public announcements during events.
Whether it’s a 15-minute speech or a 15-second announcement, being in front of a microphone and in front of a crowd seems like an eternity.
I have worked and worked on getting better with that, but there’s still fear there.
After reading this article, I have come away with a new approach the next time that I have to get in front of a crowd, and hopefully it will be beneficial to me.
That being the thought of how all of the individuals looking at me would be the same as me in that situation.
Thanks for the informative article and for sharing the information.
Hey Kevin,
First off… massive respect for sharing this so openly.
You’re not alone, man.
That eternity at the mic feeling? It’s so real.
Most people just never admit it.
The fact that you’ve kept showing up… despite the fear, not waiting for it to vanish… that’s power. That’s the real win.
And I love that this new lens clicked for you.
Seeing the audience as reflections, not judges… that right there, is the game-changer.
It turns “me vs. them” into “me with them.” And suddenly, the mic becomes less of a weapon… and more of a bridge.
Appreciate you being here, and I hope next time you step up, you remember: it’s not about being fearless… it’s about being real.
In your corner
Dedo (Chief MEME Officer)
This piece carries such a gentle but resolute spirit. It recognizes the fragility of a trembling voice without diminishing its strength. What stood out most is how it reframes vulnerability as a form of resistance, not weakness. That shift can be profound for anyone who has ever felt unheard or dismissed.
I really like the way you are addressing public speaking, and the way you are tackling the challenges that many people face in this area. Personally, I am one of the lucky ones. I never had an issue with it since a very young age. On the contrary, I think I was one of those who would jump right into it.
Your article made me wonder if someone like me who didn’t feel the challenges of public speaking, if I can help someone who is facing those challenges. I feel I might not be able to unless the person was aware enough and articulate enough to describe what they are going through when they face the situation. But still wondering…
First off… love how you felt this.
Most folks miss – that vulnerability isn’t weakness – it’s resistance in soft clothing.
It’s quiet, but it holds.
That shift in how we see it?
That’s the spark.
For someone who’s used to being brushed off or talked over, realizing their softness is strength can be life-altering.
Now, about you…
That natural ease you’ve got with speaking?
A gift, no doubt.
But here’s a truth…
Helping someone find their voice doesn’t mean you have to have lost yours first.
You don’t need to match their pain to hold space for it.
Sometimes the most powerful move is just being the mirror… reflecting what they’ve buried, showing them their struggle isn’t something to hide…
It’s something to build with.
You don’t need a map, just presence.
No advice, just a little room for them to hear themselves.
And trust me… that’s enough.
That’s the magic.
The nudge.
The gentle weight that reminds someone they’re not alone in the work.
I mean…
You don’t need the same wound to help someone stop the bleeding.
Just a steady hand, and the guts to sit beside them while they feel it.
That’s real. And that’s rare.
In your corner
Dedo (Chief MEME Officer)
Wow… this hit me straight in the chest!
The lantern metaphor is so powerful, especially for those of us who have spent years trying to “perform” instead of just being.
And I love how this story reframes public speaking as “public remembering” – what a beautiful reminder that our vulnerability isn’t a flaw; it’s the invitation.
I’ve experienced that throat-tightening fear, even when my heart is bursting with something I need to say.
But reading this helped me realize it’s not about silencing the fear, but bringing it with us and letting the light shine anyway.
Thank you for this Dedo.
I’m walking away with a new sense of courage and a little less pressure to be perfect.
Just real.
A human… Being
William… what a beautiful reflection, thank you.
That line…
“a little less pressure to be perfect… just real” – that’s it right there.
THE whole point.
Not to perform, or impress.
But to remember who we are beneath the noise and speak from that place.
And, you’ve smashed it… courage ain’t the absence of fear, it’s walking on stage with that bad-boy poundin’ in your chest… and lighting the lantern anyway.
You’ve already felt the truth of it.
And now, you’re carrying it forward.
Appreciate your words more than you know, William (or, can I call you Bill?)
Here’s to speaking from the fire, not the script.
In your corner
Dedo (Chief MEME Officer)