A Jamaican Experience: From Skeptic to Seminar Leader
By: Baron Stewart
At thirty-nine, I had no children, a steady job in tech, and a quiet apartment on 38th and Park in New York City. I also had a new wife—Berkeley. She was brilliant, emotionally articulate, wildly intuitive, and, much to my confusion, convinced that the way I communicated needed an upgrade.
In my mind, I was doing just fine. I stated my points clearly. I used logic. I didn’t yell. I rarely interrupted. That, to me, was communication. On the other hand, Berkeley seemed to be playing an entirely different game where words were only half the story, and presence, energy, tone, and something called “emotional resonance” were the rest. I couldn’t see the rules, let alone play by them.
She asked me to take a course—not just any course—a workshop by Werner Erhard and Associates—the kind of course people raved about or ridiculed. I was skeptical—deeply skeptical—but I loved her. And underneath my skepticism was a quiet fear: I might lose her if I didn’t learn to communicate the way she needed.
So I signed up, crossed my arms, and showed up. Within the first day of the three-day course, something cracked.
The first fundamental shift happened during a communication exercise. Nothing flashy. Just eye contact, repeated phrases, and the uncomfortable realization that my default tone—cool, calm, rational—wasn’t reaching anyone, least of all my wife. But the connection was immediate when I added a flicker of honest emotion. I could feel it. So could everyone else. I wasn’t just speaking. I was being heard.
That moment rewired something in me. The shift deepened in the Forum, where I was introduced to the power of presence. Not the kind of presence that comes from a loud voice or a big personality—but the quiet, grounded kind. The "Be Here Now" kind. That phrase alone changed the trajectory of my life. Suddenly, I understood that listening was more than waiting for my turn to talk. Being present was more than showing up on time. It was a powerful force.
Berkeley noticed the change before I thoroughly did. She laughed more and touched me more. I realized she enjoyed me when I communicated from presence—when I brought logic and feeling to the table. And, to be honest, I enjoyed myself, too.
I was shocked at how much more effective I became at work. My coworkers responded differently, and friends opened up more. My left-brain software engineer's approach had gotten me far, but these emotional upgrades unlocked a new level.
Still, I didn’t become a seminar leader overnight. It took five years. I began by assisting in the Communication Workshop for about a year, absorbing the course's design and refining how I spoke, listened, and responded. Then Berkeley and I took the Forum together, and that sealed it. I was all in.
The New York Center was just a short walk from our apartment. I made that walk many times, often buzzing with anticipation. Then came the 6-Day Course—a deep dive into living 100% present, six days in a row. That course jump-started something in me. It wasn’t just about self-improvement anymore. I wanted mastery.
So we enrolled in the Introduction to the Forum Leaders program—the gatekeeper to leadership within Werner Erhard and Associates. Six months of intensive training were designed to prepare you to lead seminars and enroll people in the Forum. There were fifty of us at the start. In the end, maybe six were selected.
I was one of them. Berkeley wasn’t.
That was bittersweet. We had taken the journey together, step for step, but now I was stepping forward alone. It was hard for both of us, but she supported me.
I led seminars four nights a week across the New York metropolitan area for the next eighteen months. I became one of the top three enrollers in the New York Center. My most memorable night was when I enrolled seven out of nine people at a single event—a level of effectiveness that made waves.
That performance opened a new door. I was invited to join the Seminar Director Program—a prestigious next step. Seminar Directors didn’t just enroll people; they led full seminars for those who had already taken the Forum and wanted to dive deeper into subjects like money, leadership, and commitment.
After another year of intense work, I was officially designated Seminar Director. The announcement was made in front of Berkeley and 500 others. I was proud. It felt like I’d graduated not just from the program but from the version of myself I used to be.
That role completed my transformation from a left-brain nerd into something more balanced. I could still write a mean algorithm, but now I could also speak from the heart. I understood enrollment, presence, and how the proper distinction could cut through confusion like a hot knife through butter.
I remember leading an introduction to the Forum when an IBM Executive Instructor approached me afterward. He looked me straight and said, "You are great. You should come work where I work."
That conversation ended my career as a programmer analyst at Software Distribution in Sterling Forest. I joined IBM Executive Education in New York City, launching an entirely new chapter of my life.
Not everything went right once I became a Seminar Director. Everything went wrong—but that’s a story for the next chapter.
What matters is this: I thought I was learning to communicate better for my marriage. I didn’t realize that I was becoming a different man—one who could lead, love, and listen—one who could be here now.
Mini-Epilogue
Looking back now, I can see things I couldn’t have seen then. I had resisted emotional communication not because I thought it was silly but because I had locked away my own emotions so tightly that I didn't know I had any. That suppression came from years of needing to be strong, rational, and self-sufficient—a survival mode that became my default.
When Berkeley wasn't selected for the IFL program, we both knew it wasn’t personal. She was there for personal growth; I was there to lead. We each got what we came for. Still, the journey tested our marriage. She was proud of me but lonely. I was becoming someone new but was not always present for the person who got me there.
The deeper I went, the more my identity began to shift. I had to bury the story of being a poor boy from Jamaica who didn't quite belong. I had to become someone who owned the room—even when some people wished I wouldn't. Being a powerful Black man in front of large groups of white people made some people uncomfortable. Some couldn’t believe someone like me had earned the role. But I had, and I knew it.
One of my most powerful moments was when I returned to the Shelton Towers Hotel on Lexington Ave, where I once drove an elevator for 70 dollars a week to lead a seminar. After the symposium, I walked to the elevator. It was still going up and down, but I no longer needed to drive it. I was a speaker in the hotel. My life had come full circle.
My speaking began to carry emotional truth, and listening became a gift. People cried when I shared stories—not because I tried to move them, but because I finally let myself be moved.
What I gained through this transformation has never left me: presence, clarity, emotional honesty, and the courage to lead. My high school math teacher, Althea Young, once told me, "You can achieve anything you set your mind to." Turns out she was right.
The next chapter would test that belief in ways I never expected.
To-Do List for Your Personal Transformation Journey
If my story resonated with you and you're feeling the pull toward your transformation, here are a few steps to consider. They worked for me—and they might change the trajectory of your life, too:
Acknowledge your resistance.
Please take a look at where you feel skeptical or uncomfortable. That’s often where your most significant growth occurs.
I would like you to be present.
Practice "Be Here Now." Put down distractions. Look people in the eye. Listen like it matters.
Please feel free to add emotion to your communication.
Let your words reflect your inner life. Would you be willing to speak not just to let me know but to connect?
You can find a robust growth environment.
Whether it's a workshop, a community, or a mentor, immerse yourself in something challenging and stretching.
Work toward mastery, not just insight.
Insight is a spark, and mastery is a fire. Please commit to practicing what you learn until it becomes who you are.
Please don't hesitate to take action even when you're unsure.
Transformation doesn't wait for certainty. It rewards courage.
Could you let go of the story that limits you?
Whether it's your past, your upbringing, or your self-doubt—you can write a new story.
Own your space.
Especially if the world has told you you're too much or not enough—take up your rightful space with confidence.
Let your growth impact others.
True transformation isn’t just about becoming better for yourself. It’s about becoming someone others grow around.
Celebrate progress, not perfection.
You don't need to be finished to be proud. Every step counts. Every effort matters.
Your journey will be your own. But if you're willing to dive in with openness, presence, and honesty, you'll be surprised who you become.