I’m back on the water this summer.
It’s still a very big lake, and I’m taking the time to explore all of it in my one-person rowing shell. And here’s what I’m noticing.
I row worse when I’m farthest from shore.
When I’m in the middle of the lake and have to squint to see the low trees and the edge of the dam, I watch every wobble. My muscles get tight and the stroke gets choppy, and the more I try to control it, the worse it gets.
The thing is, I still know how to row. My skills haven’t changed. The conditions may be a little different, but the basic task is well within my ability.
So why does it become so hard to use that ability?
I realized I hear many versions of this in my leadership communication work.
One client speaks easily with most colleagues, but becomes stilted around a particular team member. Another used to dread every Board update even though they love to talk about their team’s progress. And in workshops, people describe losing access to words they know perfectly well when they’re asked an unexpected question.
Why, in some moments, can we stay connected to what we know and respond to what is happening, and in others, become tight, shut down, and far less effective?
Somewhere in the middle of the lake, my body changes its mind about the situation. It started to perceive a threat. And everything else changed.
My attention went to what might go wrong and how to protect myself from it.
The skills were still there. But I was no longer in a state to use them.
Likewise, when you struggle for words after being put on the spot, your knowledge and expertise haven’t actually disappeared.
But when the situation feel risky, consequential, or hard to recover from, your body shifts into protection. Your attention narrows toward what might go wrong, and it becomes harder to draw on capabilities that are normally available to you.
We could sum it up as:
The moment feels threatening → You protect.
You monitor yourself and focus on not making mistakes. Your attention narrows, and your knowledge and abilities are harder to access.
The moment feels manageable → You engage.
You use what you know, pay attention to others, explore the possibilities, and contribute.
I thought about when I don’t feel threatened on the water.
In a boat with other people, I feel energized. I row with greater certainty. Most importantly, I pay less attention to the boat’s instability and more to how it’s moving forward.
So that’s what I’m going to practice now when I’m rowing alone: shifting my attention away from the wobble and into the pleasing momentum I’m creating.
Undoubtably, you’ll also have moments when the threat response rises. It may help a little just to recognize what’s happening.
And, you can begin to notice what makes the situation feel more manageable, and what brings more of you back into the moment.
What helps you stay connected to what you know?
