The Gift of Feedback
Let’s be real—feedback isn’t exactly something we scribble onto our Christmas lists.
Who says, “Oh yes, please, tell me how I can do better at this?” Yet, I have observed two remarkable individuals who don’t just tolerate feedback—they treasure it.
The first is our dear friend, Soko. We affectionately call him the World’s Most Interesting Man, and for good reason. He speaks Arabic, does professional ballroom dancing, graduated from Ranger School, learned to fly commercial planes during COVID-19, writes code, retired as an Air Force Intel officer, and started not one but two businesses. Impressive, right? However, what makes Soko truly fascinating is his attitude toward feedback. He actively seeks it and always craves more. No matter how critical or negative the input is, he absorbs it gracefully, treating the entire process as an experiment. For him, every piece of feedback adds to his “data collection.”
Soko creates an environment where people feel safe sharing their perspectives—establishing a robust feedback loop. This openness doesn’t just improve his work—it strengthens relationships and encourages more data. I admire him deeply because, while I’ve read plenty about feedback’s importance, receiving it without taking it personally is still a work in progress for me.
Then there’s “T,” a co-worker who also has feedback at the top of her wishlist. T “dates” ideas instead of marrying them, and she doesn’t mind calling the baby ugly—even if it’s hers. I asked her about her philosophy, and she said shrugged “Feedback is a gift.” Watching her in action has made me examine how I receive feedback. Do I treat it as a gift, or do I throw it back like an unwanted present?
Feedback can be tricky. Some of it is great—life-changing, even. But let’s be honest, some of it is just plain wrong, hurtful, or personal. So what if we treated feedback like a gift, but recognized we don’t have to keep every gift? Even the most amazing Christmas presents can be outgrown or no longer serve us.
In October, I started a website called Buffalo and Banyan—my way of sharing the values that have shaped my life. The name draws from two powerful metaphors: how buffalos face storms together, head-on, and how banyan trees create vast, interconnected networks of support. Version 1.0 of my website is out, and it’s far from done. But the feedback process has been transformative. From suggestions on alternative color schemes to clarity in my writing, I’ve appreciated the value of fresh perspectives. At first, it was overwhelming. Who wants to hear that their hard work might not be hitting the mark? But now, I’m learning to crave those insights because they are like sunlight helping my ideas grow stronger.
I’ve resisted feedback for two big reasons. First, I hate when people assume they know my motives. For example, you see me at Starbucks and decide I’m being #basic. (Ok, maybe I am…) But, what you don’t know is that Starbucks is my focus zone—the one place where I can really get writing done. Sadly, I know I’ve been guilty of this too, jumping to conclusions about others.
The second reason? Rejection. It happens to all of us, and how we process it impacts us deeply. For me, feedback often feels wrapped in the tone of rejection, even when it’s meant to help. I know there’s truth in what’s being said, but dang, it’s hard to hear. Just the other day, I completely botched receiving feedback about our internal processes—processes I know are broken. Go figure.
So, with only a week left until Christmas, I’m adding feedback to my wishlist. Am I excited? Not really. But when I think back to the times mentors, friends, and family have shared feedback—kindly or not—it’s made all the difference.
A Question for You:
When is the last time you have asked for feedback?
My mantra for now? Feedback isn’t a storm to avoid—it’s the wind that helps you find your true north.
