In a world that rewards material growth and polished appearances, it’s easy to forget the quiet power of sincerity.
One of my most meaningful career highlights happened during a performance with The Messenger – a six-metre-tall puppet created by A Blanck Canvas. During the puppets start sequence where it “comes to life” a child from the crowd stepped forward, hot chip in hand, and offered it to the giant puppet as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
I moved the puppet’s hand maneuvering a gesture of appreciation to the child’s openness and willingness to share.
While there may have been that wonderful sense of child-like wonder, it wasn’t driven by a need to analyse or explain. As adults, we often lose that quality of open curiosity – the kind that seeks to explore, not to control. There’s a quiet kind of empowerment in simply existing, sharing, and being present. In communicating without words – words shaped by academia and confined by socially constructed boundaries. In that moment, the child didn’t need to make sense of everything. They simply wanted to share. In a world so focused on self preservation, certainty and knowing, this was a refreshing and honest act.
We often forget that anyone – regardless of age, culture, or background – has something we can learn from, if we remain open and curious. It’s not about having the right questions or the right answers, but about meeting each other without agenda.
The Messenger isn’t a loud character. It listens. It observes, but also sends a message inviting us to slow down and take a moment to reflect; to notice the space between moments. In that brief exchange, something unspoken happened — between a person and puppet, wonder and reality.
We spend much of adult life trying to be “the best version of ourselves” – a strange phrase, when you think about it. We’re taught to optimize, to pitch, to lead with outcomes. But that child wasn’t networking. The child just wanted to offer a hot chip.
It’s easy to overlook moments like these. They don’t appear in portfolios or performance reviews. But sometimes, they’re the most real thing we have.
