I was in the middle of a marriage proposal. My hands were sweating, and my heart was pounding against my ribs. I felt nauseous looking at the golden ring and at my partner, who was down on one knee. I was gasping for air.
In that moment, the coach intervened: “Roel, I’m not seeing any of that restlessness. What if you made your unrest three times as large?”
I wasn’t actually being proposed to.
On a beautiful, snowy morning in Eemnes, I attended a presentation training hosted by Team Rockstars IT. To practice our stage presence, a colleague and I were tasked with role-playing a marriage proposal in front of the group.
Beyond the fun and games, the session was incredibly impactful thanks to speaker coach Jurko van Veenendaal. Jurko is truly one of the best I’ve encountered. He has a remarkably sharp eye and an uncanny ability to deliver exactly the right feedback at the perfect moment.
If you’re looking to sharpen your public speaking or stage presence, I can’t recommend Jurko (https://jurkovanveenendaal.nl/) enough. Thanks for the masterclass (and the practice proposal)!
The Inner Critic at Volume 10
The moment I step onto a stage, everything is magnified. It’s not just the awareness of my voice and breath, but the volume of my inner critic. That little voice whispers: “You should be calm,” “Act like a ‘real’ speaker,” or “Who are you to talk about this topic?”
I have learned to live with my inner critic in my daily life, but when I stand on a stage, he is there in full glory. Instinctively, I tried to push that unease away. I thought I had to wear a mask of perfect composure to be a credible speaker.
Then, our trainer Jurko gave me a piece of advice that turned everything upside down:
“Roel, what if you don’t push the restlessness away, but actually make it stronger?”
No Mud, No Lotus
This touches the very heart of my Zen philosophy.
Think of the lotus flower: a symbol of purity and enlightenment. But a lotus doesn’t grow in a sterile laboratory; it only grows in the mud. Without that thick, dark mud, our restlessness, our fears, and our imperfections: the lotus cannot bloom.
In the Zen tradition, we say: “Nirvana is found in the middle of Samsara.” You don’t find peace (Nirvana) by escaping the chaos and nerves of life (Samsara); you find it by sitting right at the centre of it.
Dropping the Mask
I decided to listen to the coach. By intentionally trying to make my restlessness stronger, I stopped fighting the mud. I embraced it.
- The Head (Flight): Wants to be the “perfectly calm speaker” while hiding the mess.
- The Heart & Body (Flow): Drops the mask, feels the adrenaline, and uses that heat to power the story.
In the middle of that “Samsara” of nerves and noise, I found a glimpse of “Nirvana.” Not because the anxiety left, but because I finally stopped fighting myself. Suddenly, the energy of those nerves became the fuel for my story. The struggle vanished, and what remained was the same chaotic energy, but held within a genuine sense of stillness.
Self-Love in Full Discomfort
This was a small but essential success on my path toward self-compassion. I learned that self-love on stage doesn’t mean being flawless. It means:
- Inviting the critic: Not silencing him, but giving him a seat on stage while you tell your story anyway.
- Authenticity over perfection: Daring to stand there in your full discomfort. The audience doesn’t need a polished version of me; they want to see the real Roel.
The stage is no longer a place where I have to be someone else. It is the place where I, mud and all, am allowed to be fully myself. (Even though the thought about getting back on stage still scares me…)
What is your mud?
We are often so busy scrubbing away our restlessness, our nerves, or our insecurities. But what if that mud is exactly what you need to grow?
What internal restlessness are you fighting right now? And what would happen if you decided to stop the fight today?
