What Magic Taught Me About Finding My Voice

I’ve stood in front of all kinds of audiences over the years. Not always on big stages or audiences like TED, but sometimes in dim-lit rooms at science festivals, in museums, or university halls filled with curious minds. There I was, speaking about the psychology of magic, about choice, attention, memory, belief, and performing a few card tricks along the way. I was putting my research, my identity, and my strange little blend of psychology and magic out into the world, in front of scientists, skeptics, and strangers.

And with that came the questions:What if the trick failed? What if no one laughed? What if I didn’t sound… smart enough? But then something shifted. I took a deep breath, stepped into the light, and let go of trying to be impressive. Instead, I focused on something magicians understand: It’s not about you. It’s about the experience you create for others.

And what I’ve been rewarded with is what lingers in the minds of the audience long after the trick ends: That brief spark of wonder, that moment of realization that their minds don’t always work the way they think they do.

I’m a scientist, not a natural performer. But somewhere along the way, I learned something important: You don’t need to feel confident to share something meaningful. You just need to care enough about the idea to carry it into the room with you. For me, that idea is this that our perception of reality is far more fragile, more creative, and more shaped by invisible forces than we tend to believe. And I find it fascinating, even empowering.

The biggest illusion I’ve had to let go of? That confidence comes first. Because I now think it rarely does. I think it's rather built in the doing, in the moments where your voice shakes but you speak anyway, where you press “share” on something unfinished, where you walk into the room not because you’re certain but because the science, the story, or the question feels worth sharing.

That’s how I found my voice. Not by waiting to be completely ready, but by letting my curiosity be louder than my fear. Because I know myself: Left unchecked, I can be a perfectionist (not to say a control freak), the kind who’ll endlessly tweak and never publish. I’ve had to make peace with showing up imperfectly. With performing simple tricks I once feared being judged for by expert magicians, and with sharing research ideas that didn’t always get unanimous approval.

But I’ve learned something through all of it: curiosity makes a far better compass than fear, and the things we’re most afraid to share often hold the most meaning.

If you’ve ever held back from sharing something because it wasn’t perfect — a project, an idea, a piece of yourself — I’d love to know: What helps you move forward anyway?

#Confidence #ScienceCommunication #Psychology #Creativity #Perfectionism #Curiosity