How much ballast?
A client has a sinking feeling: the harder they work, the less progress they seem to have on the improvements they’d like to make. They are feeling confused and frustrated enough to ask for help. Without knowing it, they have asked me to serve as ballast to help them move effectively through stormy water. Together, we will find the Goldilocks “just right” amount of ballast that provides steadiness so they can choose where they want to go—-and choose a course to get there.
You may be familiar with “live ballast,” the weight of the crew on the windward side of a sailboat, the sailors leaning way out off the edge of the boat, providing a counterweight to the wind’s force on a sail and lowering the boat’s center of gravity. Ballast can also be out of our line of sight, like the boat’s keel or gravel, sand or water in the boat’s hull. In some boats, the ballast moves in and out of a ballast tank. When cargo is loaded, water in the ballast tank is emptied to accommodate the additional weight above the water level so the boat does not sit too low. When cargo is unloaded, the ballast tank can fill.
The location of the ballast is important; depending on the wind and how a boat leans to one side or the other, water in a tank or the sailor hiking off the boat's edge can be redistributed from one side of the vessel to another. Ballast is low, too, to counteract the effects of weight above the water level or, in the case of a sailboat, the force exerted on sails by the wind.
Foundering feelings
In rough seas, expect disaster if you have too much or too little ballast. Too much ballast causes a boat to sit too low in the water, increasing drag and making the boat less responsive to steering. Too little ballast causes a boat to sit too high in the water, and if the propeller or rudder is out of the water, the boat can’t be steered; too little ballast makes for a tippy boat.
The right amount of ballast keeps the boat up and on course. Too much or too little, and the boat struggles or capsizes. I’ve come to realize that my work is, in part, to provide ballast to people figuring out where they want to go and how to get there. (I’m often helping them figure out how to work together.) I don’t choose where they’re going, but I provide some stability so they can choose their direction and recognize the needed adjustments to help them get there.
The client with a sinking feeling is an organization struggling to make its way in stormy waters. They have a lot of questions about who will look after what in their city work:
Who is looking after the permits?
Who is looking after inspections, and when?
Who is looking after re-writing the rules?
What should the new rules be? Who needs to be a part of this discussion?
When is it just us, and when does it involve others?
When others need to be involved, how do we best include them meaningfully to them—and us?
With too much ballast, a vessel struggles to move efficiently and doesn’t steer well. What does too much ballast look like in a group of people, a team or an organization? It’s whatever brings the group down. Their sense of direction could be disconnected from today’s context and conditions. The culture could be one where nothing is allowed to be questioned or changed. My role is to help them release what pulls them down and ensure I don’t add unnecessary ballast.
Too little ballast makes a vessel hard to steer and susceptible to capsizing. What does too little ballast look like in a group of people, a team or an organization? It’s whatever is missing to ground or center the group. There could be no shared sense of direction or resistance to acknowledge today’s context and conditions. The culture could be one where everything is questioned, and no choices are made. My role is to give them some steadiness so they can create the conditions to see and hold the clarity that will ground and center them.
“When a person or group is foundering, it doesn’t mean the group is incompetent; it means they need a different amount or location of ballast.”
When a person or group is foundering, it doesn’t mean the group is incompetent; it means they need a different amount or location of ballast as they go through stormy conditions. It is not my role to serve as ballast long term, but rather to help them create stability for themselves. With some steadiness, they have time and space to relax out of emergency feelings, notice their context and conditions, determine the course they’d like to choose and ask: How much ballast is needed? Holding them in this question, I ask myself: How much ballast is required from me, where and when?
“It is not my role to serve as ballast long term, rather to help them create stability for themselves.”
Steadiness strategies
We avoid most questions because they invite discomfort. It seems counter-intuitive, but a question that invites discomfort brings clarity—and clarity brings steadiness. When thinking about a boat, we might ask about the purpose of the boat, its context and the conditions it will experience:
Will the boat zip across a small lake powered by light to moderate winds? Or will the boat carry cargo across the ocean, from continent to continent, on the open seas in rough seas?
How much load will the boat have, and will the load change?
What weather will the boat experience?
Is the boat designed to accommodate the conditions it will experience?
In exploring these questions, we will notice that certain boats are made for specific conditions. We will not ask a little sailboat to cross the ocean in stormy conditions or a big ship to sail in a lake that is too shallow. We will also notice that some boats need to be able to operate in various conditions. Steadiness is not static; the ballast that works in one circumstance will not in another.
Principles (what’s happening behind the curtains, within me)
As the wind and water shift, responsive and responsible sailors shift the ballast to ensure they can steer in the direction they wish to go, increase the efficiency of their movement and improve the vessel's safe operation by minimizing roll. Paying attention to ballast helps the vessel avoid sinking or capsizing.
In a group of people, the ballast is the people and the character of how they participate in their work. Behind the scenes, the following principles guide me:
Be aware of who I am as a “sailor.” The first conditions I need to be aware of are the conditions within me. Am I open to noticing the changing context and conditions? Who do I need to be to be open to new information and respond to new information responsably?
Be aware of changing contexts and conditions. As the load, wind and water shift, I must welcome new, changing, and even conflicting information.
Be prepared to adjust at any time. A sailor hiking off the edge of her sailboat will shift to the other side of the boat when she (or the wind) changes directions and the boat’s relationship with the wind. If she does not, the boat will capsize. I must be willing and able to adjust.
Ensure the ballast is mostly invisible, not front and center. Ballast should be as low as possible (the keel or in the hull) and, if visible, off to the side. I am most helpful if I am barely visible.
Ballast doesn’t choose the direction, so let people do the steering. Ballast offsets the boat’s inherent buoyancy and lowers its center of gravity. It increases stability and decreases the boat's roll or heel (list), making for a smoother ride. While it helps with steerability, ballast doesn’t choose where the boat will go.
Be aware that the sweet spot will move. No matter how well I prepare myself to adjust, I must always be aware that what I think will work may not work.
What you might see me do (in front of the curtains)
Whatever the project, when a group gathers to sort out where it’s going and how to get there, here are the elements of social habitat you will likely see me use with my clients to help provide steadiness:
We find a clear purpose for the gathering and/or project.
We craft a clear invitation for the people they expect to gather with them.
We find a big and simple question that will guide them through their work and pull them through tough conversations.
We agree on agreements about how we’ll speak and listen to each other.
We use a check-in to hear everyone’s voice at the beginning of each gathering.
We engage in conversation and exploration in ways that allow us to experience community learning. When we speak from experience, rather than talk about what we know, we find clarity about where we wish to go and how to get there.
We identify our shared understanding of insights and actions.
We use a check-out to hear everyone’s voice at the end of each gathering to notice what worked and what can be improved.
We circle up to debrief the gathering to discern the next steps to best support the group.
Being in ballast: the sweet spot
When that sinking feeling abates, people can see where they want to go and what they want to accomplish. We are only able to move in the direction we wish to move when we know where we want to go and can steer. A boat in ballast is a boat that is “in trim”—the rudder or propeller is submerged, and the boat is not so low in the water that it is not steerable.
We are all boats in or out of ballast, as individuals or groups of any size. We all need to monitor how much ballast we need; at times, we need others to serve as ballast to provide steadiness as we find and make our way in the world. Needing to adjust ballast or needing the support of others is not a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of awareness and willingness to act to adjust.
The sweet ballast spot is in each of us, for ourselves and to share with others.
Reflection
In what ways do you feel out of ballast? How are you susceptible to capsizing, unable to steer, bogged down or moving through life inefficiently?
What do you need to release to not feel pulled down?
What do you need to do to feel more grounded or centered?
What small action can you take to be the best sailor you can be?