I gave a speech yesterday on the subject of remarkable leadership. Like most of my talks, I go in without notes and often without a clear sense of where I will go in my speech other than to follow a rough outline that gives the speech some natural structure and flow—a beginning, middle, and end. This is a formlessness that has a deeper form—one that is hard to find if you look for it in the specific guidance one is often given about how to give great speeches.

My goal in speaking is not just to inform or to entertain, it is to touch and be touched. Quite by accident, I discovered that my particular brand of speaking to groups is quite counter-intuitive to most and yet, fits the shape of who I am. In the past, I would always come well prepared to a speech, with power point slides, notes, stories, and reminders. I carefully followed the outline and gave good talks, ones that inform and entertain. Then, one day, I arrived at a venue to present to a rather large audience and realized I’d forgotten my notes at home. To complicate matters further, I discovered that the projector upon which my obligatory power point slides were to be shown was also broken. There I was, left to my own devices. Rather than try to resurrect the key points of my speech in my memory, I decided to let go. I let my heart be my guide.

I began the talk by stating the following to the audience, “Come, circle around. We’re going to just talk, you and I.” It was as if I was inviting this group of 100 attendees into my living room and we were to talk much like I would one on one in an intimate setting. I looked at all of them, quietly felt into what wanted to be said (guided by something deep within me) and simply shared what I wanted to share. And it was by far the best talk I had ever given, for it was not confined to only being a speech and yet it was more than a speech. It was me connecting, offering, inviting, moving from my heart and daring to be moved by theirs. It was truly a wonderful experience for all, including me. Since then, I have followed this formlessness or personal freedom and trusted my intuition and my talks are far more than what meets the eye—they are experiences, each unique unto itself, guided by mystery and designed for something deeper to stir than what ordinarily emerges in traditional speeches.

Last night, I gave such a speech on “authentic leadership” and it was like so many others, a moving experience, for me and for the audience. At the end, a lot many people came up to thank me for what stirred within them as they connected to what I was sharing about remarkable leadership. One woman in particular, came up and said “Thank you”, but she said it not in English but in the language of her ancestry.

There was so much imbued in that moment because I believe she had chosen her language to say something deeper than just thank you. She wanted to say, “You have touched my soul, the place from which I live and the place from which I connect. You have spoken of things that go much deeper than the surface of our lives and for this I am grateful. You have connected to me and I offer the same in return”. These words were not said, yet deeply felt. And as she looked into my eyes and I into hers, for a brief moment we shared our souls. Our eyes got moist from the intensity and pleasure of such a powerful, vulnerable connection, and we tenderly hugged each other. I whispered in her ear, “Namaste!” and that was it.

Does it matter what the color of her skin was, her gender, her ethnicity, her job, her title or any of the superficial things we tend to see in life? Or what was her past, present, or future?

What mattered in that moment were those two exchanged words of deep gratitude. I felt gotten by her, and she by me. And that is all that matters.