A few weeks ago I drove to South Austin to record a short video in which I would be interviewed about my coaching process.
The shoot was to take place at a house where the videographer/interviewer, Vanessa, was planning to move, but since she had not yet moved in, it provided a good space for video recording.
“This used to be my parent’s house, and now that they recently moved, I will be settling in here next month,” Vanessa explained as I walked into the spacious, modern-looking house with the smell of fresh varnish.
In an area I assume will eventually serve as a large nook for the kitchen table, she had set up professional lighting, a mute gray backdrop, and a stool on which I would sit for the interview. While I had only come across Vanessa’s work recently via my friend and coach, Justin, I knew she was a veteran of her industry, and the setup’s polished professionalism immediately underscored that.
“So,” she explained. “I have your email about some of what you are looking to cover, and I have reviewed that. At the same time, I want to avoid a ‘script’ feel. So, I am going to ask you a bunch of questions, stay curious, and let this be a conversation. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds good,” I replied, genuinely.
While I have only participated in a couple of professional recording sessions in my lifetime, preaching to a camera during Covid taught me quite quickly that presence is far more important than the plan, and authenticity communicates far better than the right words. I was grateful that this veteran videographer was guiding the experience that way.
While Vanessa then took a couple of minutes situating her two cameras and their settings, we shared small talk and discovered that we’re both big fans of Brené Brown.
We proceeded to have one of those brief ‘fan’ moments where you share all of your favorite bits about the famous person whom you hold in esteem:
Vulnerability is courage!
You know the story where she was swimming with her husband in Lake Travis?!
Heard her latest podcast episode? You know she’s back from an extended break.
After our brief exchange, she walked over and handed me a Lavalier mic. “Ok, clip this onto your belt, pull this through your shirt, and let’s tape it under your collar.”
She then settled onto a bar stool situated just to the side of her camera, invited me to keep my eyes on her and not the camera in front of me (nor the one to my side), and prepared to ask her first question.
And even though I knew not to worry about the cameras and how the conversation would flow, I could feel my heartbeat picking up.
Whether it was the professional gear, the professionalism of the set-up and routine, or the simple fact of a camera recording things ‘officially,’ I found my mind suddenly reaching for key phrases and ideas so that I could ensure I sounded as professional and put-together as everything around me.
I want this to look good(!)
Sound good(!)
Be good(!)
But then… just as Vanessa began articulating the first few words of the very first question, a loud buzzing sound began whirring outside. It was a man with lawn trimmers suddenly cutting the yard next door.
“No…” she said, her voice trailing off as she glanced out the window from her stool. “You know, every time I have recorded in this house I have wondered if outdoor noise might be an issue. It never has been… until now.”
She walked over to the window and shook her head. “Oh wow…”
Vanessa was taking in the fact that her neighbor’s lawn had not seen any sort of grooming in months. “Why aren’t they using a mower?” she added under her breath, perhaps recognizing how much longer the trimmer by itself was going to take.
As she started to turn away from the window, a second lawn instrument suddenly burst forth with noise. Another guy was in the same yard, and he had a leaf blower now going.
“You’re kidding me!” she said, as our ears took in the duet of mechanized whining playing forth at a steady forté.
“How’s your time look this morning, Bobby? I’d hate to record this and have those noises in the background of this video.”
I had a good bit of flexibility that morning, so I offered to head to a nearby coffee shop, do some work, and wait for her to text to let me know that the lawn work had ceased. An hour and fifteen minutes later, I received the ‘all clear’ text and returned to the house.
Upon my return, I noticed a strange thing…
I was no longer worried about getting the video right. I went over to my stool, sat down, and with absolutely zero ‘perfect scripts’ in my head, I prepared to receive whatever first questions she had for me.
Vanessa asked questions about…
My work as a pastor.
My work as a coach.
What challenges I see people - and men in particular - facing today.
Stories related to tragedies and hardships I have faced.
And it was good, meaningful - and fun!
But how? What had happened to that rising stress I felt when we were first going to record almost two hours earlier? Why did I dive with such ease into this round of questions?
Honestly, I think it helped that the duet of mechanized whining had revved up at just the ‘wrong’ moment earlier that morning.
It was not unlike years ago when I showed up to the church where I was working one Sunday morning and the power had gone out. This meant the worship service would unfold with no lights, no organ, and no A/C (in the middle of a hot-and-humid Richmond, Virginia summer).
Old school, as they say.
No, not a fun problem to have unfold at the last minute. But also, the imperfectness of it all helped free me to feel like I, too, did not need to be perfect.
Hey, the situation is a mess!
And honestly, aren’t we all?
So let’s just do our best :)
Maybe I am weird like that, but I almost prefer it when things get a little messy because somehow it frees me to be more honest about my feeling and being messy.1 And that feels more…
Authentic.
Real.
Brene Brown-like.
In fact, I am convinced that all of us discover our most compelling visions, offer our truest voice, and put forth our best and most creative work not under the grinding demands of perfectionism, but in the expansive, messy space of grace.
The space where we risk…
being ourselves,
offering our gifts with generosity,
and trusting that even if we ‘mess up,’ this particular space specializes in declaring the ‘mess up’ not ‘failure,’ but…
The meeting ground for love’s embrace.
And…
Fodder for growth.
And…
The locus of your next chapter.
Ever known such a space?
Had such a space open when the leaf blower turned on, the A/C broke, or the whole situation fell apart?
Know a person or two especially gifted at holding that space?
In whatever ‘mess up’ you’re living right now, can you yourself hold the situation with grace (and so begin calling it something else)?
If ‘yes’ is your answer to one or all of these… give thanks.
The Bible calls that space the Kingdom of God, and thank goodness the Bible also declares that this space is ‘quite near.’ For it also then means that the following are also quite near:
Living into our most compelling visions.
Offering our true voice.
Putting forth our best and most creative work.
—
Oh! And my video?
I asked Vanessa to do one thing at the end of the interview conversation: “Use whatever you feel communicates most authentically.”
Other than that, it was her discernment as to what fit that criteria and what did not. She then took the 30 minutes of conversation and distilled it into this introduction to my coaching paradigm. Enjoy :)
And I recognize that the next step in my growth involves regularly offering myself with a fullness of grace, levity, and groundedness (which is to say, true me-ness) even when a pressurized context is demanding the perfect polish.