All at Sea - The Doldrums
Thoughts and Images - Natalie Shering
February: a month that is - in the northern hemisphere, at least – often given over to grey skies, damp cold, and what can feel like incessant rain. Spring is on its way but has not yet fully sprung, and the metaphorical freshly-blanketed snow of New Year starts to look a bit sludgy underfoot. For a lot of us, this February may be feeling like an even greyer prospect than usual, as many of the tried and tested methods for lifting the spirits – countryside rambles, seaside strolls, fun nights out or cosy nights in with friends and family, making plans to ‘get away’, even making plans generally – may be unavailable to us.
In this restricted, locked-down time, I am reminded of the necessity to maintain good levels of energy, so that we can be the best version of ourselves, and so that we can be the Leaders we want to be. I am fortunate indeed to have both countryside and sea available to me locally and I take every opportunity I can to be out in the open air and the elements. As is now well recognised, getting time outdoors can really help our mental health and our sense of wellbeing, and for me, the outside environment also provides richly stimulating fodder for my thoughts about ‘Creative Leadership’. Using The NRR* approach, I have chosen 4 of my photographs (all taken in winter months over the last couple of years, and each showing a different seascape) to start a discussion about how we can recognise where our energies are sitting, and how we might choose to respond.
It was an afternoon in January this year, and my wife and I had taken ourselves off for a contemplative stride out along the Pier in Worthing. The Pier is a popular destination for all kinds of strollers, speed-walkers and (in warmer months) sunseekers, and in these times of necessary social distancing it might have seemed like a risky choice for our daily exercise. On this cold and damp January day however, there were no hoards, and we were joined by only a small handful of die-hard brine addicts, dimly visible like shadowy spectres through the mist. All of us were giving our best impression of H.G. Wells’ Invisible Man – thoroughly wrapped up and completely unrecognisable in our hats, coats and scarves. It was a muffled experience. And the view from the Pier was muffled too.
In this image, the sea and the sky are so similar in tone and texture that it is difficult to see where one finishes and the other begins. It was an hypnotic scene to capture, and I still find this image to be a peaceful one to gaze upon – I like the stillness and the calm. In our current environment however, the photograph also puts me in mind of something a little less settled. It reminds me of the ‘Doldrums’:
“… a belt of converging winds and rising air encircling the Equator - noted for calm periods when the winds over the sea disappear altogether…The crews of sailing ships dreaded the doldrums because their ships were often trapped there for days or weeks on end, causing them to run out of supplies and at risk of developing scurvy, delirium, starvation and cabin fever…”
When sailors found themselves in the Doldrums, they knew that they would have to wait it out until the winds came good for them once again. The conditions were not right, and there was nothing they could do to control that. Instead, they had to conserve their energy and maintain their resolve in order to be ready for when they could once again set sail. It would have done them no favours if they had reacted to the prospect of the enforced waiting with wild flailing and mad thrashing about.
In colloquial speech, we now use the term to represent a state of listlessness or of stagnation, and we all encounter these Doldrums at times – perhaps, at this time of Pandemic, even more so. If we find ourselves feeling vulnerably cast adrift, with no forward propulsion and, as in the photograph, no clear line of sight to the way forward, how does that affect us? What do we do when our own energy is low, or when the environment provided by our surroundings and circumstances is flat and devoid of momentum? And how do we, as Leaders, respond to that space and lead others along the way?
For a start, it helps if we can recognise where we are, which requires us to invest in some self-reflection. Very often though (and particularly when our course takes us into dead calm waters) the compassionate act of taking the time to ‘check-in’ with oneself is overlooked, and we can find ourselves becoming increasingly frustrated and emotionally drained when our efforts to sail on are scuppered. By making it a priority to regularly and deliberately notice where our energy levels are set, we can connect more fully to how we are feeling, and as a result, we have a better chance of responding in a productive way. Others will notice how we show up, and, at the times when we are drifting, they will appreciate the strength it takes for us to show vulnerability. It will encourage them to also show compassion – to themselves and to others. Compassion can be contagious.
Perhaps, when we hit the Doldrums, it is about finding a degree of acceptance and peace with the situation we are in, and of tapping into our own resilience as a Leader to say “Okay, maybe I can't move us forward directly, but what can I attend to now that will make us fit for onward travel when conditions improve?”. If, instead of thrashing about to try and get going more quickly, we concentrate our energy on simply ‘maintaining our boat’, keeping afloat until the winds pick up, and checking in with our crew, we will be better able to set sail when the mist lifts and the clear horizon shows itself once more.
*NRR = Notice, Respond, Repeat: The practice of deliberately noticing what is around us, reflecting, and then responding with intent. Ad Infinitum.
