Guest post by LT Brett Beeson, United States Navy
The first time I saw the Holden Center, I started hopping up and down in excitement.
For context, I had then spent a total of three hours on the Eugene campus; fresh to the Oregon area after moving from Bahrain, I was lost and confused amidst the sea of people. Although I had served five years overseas in the most demanding of work environments (“staying out to sea for an extra three weeks? Potential nuclear crisis? Oh, it must be Tuesday…”), wandering a crowd of thousands of students, zero of whom know your background, is incredibly intimidating. Even if you’ve translated Arabic for Admirals. Even if you’ve run ultramarathons. Even if you’ve traveled the world several times over. It’s still hard.
But the Holden Center for Leadership? Now that’s something I can do, formally beginning its study at the US Naval Academy in 2010. And there is no challenge of leadership like COVID-19. After all, the virus has tossed most “known” factors out the window, raising very pressing questions: how does one lead in a world where everything might change tomorrow, when we ourselves are struggling to adapt? Since stress and uncertainty are hallmarks of the naval profession, I would like to offer some perspective.
First—stop. Breathe. Pause.
It seems cliché, but it’s actually quite true. In four heartbeats; out four pulses. In through the nose; out slowly through the mouth. Stop for a minute to restart the clock. If it helps, pull out a pen and paper. What is actually going on in this moment, and how much is in our heads? How much are we projecting fear? What are the things we can control, right in this moment?
As the Admiral’s aide, I had zero control over my work hours; we had a larger mission to accomplish. However, I knew that, to maintain my own sense of sanity, I NEEDED to get in a quick workout and to practice piano. And I COULD control my alarm clock, which is exactly what I did.
Another example, which also highlights self-care and intentionally creating moments of joy for your day: coffee. I couldn’t control the never-ending back and forth of Middle East politics, but I could create, for just five minutes, one good moment in my day. Seems small-minded? Maybe. But if I had jumped down the rabbit hole of despair, how on earth was I going to be of any use to others?
Secondly—connect. Another cliché, but admitting to a coworker your concerns is like shining a nightlight on the monster under the bed. By voicing our fears, they take shape, and they start to appear more like dust bunnies than Fire Breathing Dragons (or they might still be dragons, but then again, at least you know what you’re up against. Even Smaug had his weakness). Similarly, as leaders, talking frankly with our subordinates allows them the space to acknowledge their fears, as well. I wholeheartedly disagree with the concept of “suffering in silence”; sometimes, we have to let the emotions out, lest their accumulation becomes corrosive. Honest communication also assists in engendering real trust (as opposed to mandated obedience).
Third, and perhaps the most military of them all—sometimes, ya just gotta get the job done. And this is where the artistry of leadership comes in, searching for that balance between emotion and action, between Sailor and mission. I can’t offer an answer because the balance is 100% unique to each person and situation. However, as leaders, it is our job to know our Sailors well enough to intuit just where that balance lies; we may not know what tomorrow holds, but we can know our people.
