You Already Know More Than You Think
Written for someone facing a presentation next week and the voice that says they do not belong there.
Wind in the Branches
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An excerpt from a real Quies session, as it was spoken.
Now, as you stand here, rooted and warm, you might hear that familiar voice. The one that says they'll see you don't really know what you're talking about.
You don't need to fight it. You don't even need to stop believing it right away. Just listen to it the way the tree listens to the wind. Notice where the voice seems to come from. Up high, in the branches, moving fast. It rustles the leaves. It makes some noise. And your roots don't move.
The wind can blow. The branches can sway. And the trunk stays. And the roots hold.
And here is something you might be surprised to discover. This old tree doesn't know everything. It doesn't know the name of every bird that lands on it. It can't predict every storm. And still, it has every right to stand exactly where it stands. Its strength was never about knowing everything. It was about being rooted in what it is.
It's the same for you. What you know, you know. You have learned it, lived it, worked with it. It is already inside you, the way rings live inside a trunk, one layer after another, each season adding to the last. Nobody can see those rings from the outside. But they are what holds the tree upright. And the understanding you've gathered holds you up in the same way, whether or not the voice admits it.
You were asked to speak because you have something to share. And you don't need to be perfect to share it. You only need to stand on your own ground.
A lack of confidence usually shows up days before the event, as a sentence. For the person this session was written for, a presentation to the whole team was a week away, and the sentence was already there: they will see you don't really know what you are talking about.
The common answer is to argue back: repeat that you are capable, list your achievements, stand in a power pose. But arguing gives the voice a debate, and it is well practised at winning debates held inside your own head.
The excerpt comes thirteen minutes into the session. The listener has walked barefoot into a clearing, stood beside an old tree and felt roots grow from the soles of their feet into the ground. When the familiar voice arrives, the session does not argue with it. It moves it: wind in the branches, up high, fast and noisy, while the roots do not move.
Then comes the turn that does the work. The tree does not know everything, not the name of every bird that lands on it, not every storm to come, and it still has every right to stand exactly where it stands. What you know lives in you the way rings live inside a trunk, invisible from the outside, holding the tree upright whether or not the voice admits it.
The last sentence changes the question. You were asked to speak because you have something to share. Nothing in the excerpt tells the listener they are brilliant; it removes the demand to be perfect, which is what the voice was feeding on. That is Erickson's indirect way: create the conditions in which a person cannot help noticing what was already there.
After the excerpt, the session walked into next week's room with the roots still there. The voice showed up, rustled, and passed. It closed with an anchor in the soles of the feet, something the listener can find again standing in front of the team.
Your own session starts from the situation you are facing and the words the doubt uses, told in a few choices and your own words if you want. Quies writes it and speaks it for you: AI hypnosis built around your room, not a motivational recording.
The evidence is already yours. The session helps you see it.
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Quies is a wellness tool for relaxation and self-exploration. It is not a medical device and does not diagnose, treat, or cure any condition. If you are experiencing a mental health crisis, please contact a qualified healthcare professional.