Compass, Kraken, Captain: A Leadership Tool
Navigate your guiding principles, face your demons, and take command.
Compass, Kraken, Captain. Consider it the leadership version of High, Low, Hero. Whether you are breaking the ice with a new team, inspiring action with familiar faces, or taking a moment for personal reflection, may this be another tool in the toolbox. You can discuss the following prompts with a partner or group, or write down responses on your own:
Compass: What is one thing you have learned that continually guides your leadership?
Kraken: What is one unfortunate past experience that causes self-doubt? This could be a mistake you made, a conversation gone wrong, a decision you failed to make, a crippling fear, something you can’t let go—like the kraken, this demon emerges from the depths and pulls you under time and time again. Bonus: What do you need to do to slay this beast?
Captain: Assume the role of captain. What is one thing you will do in the next two weeks? (Feel free to adjust this time as appropriate.) This is a good opportunity to share William Ernest Henley’s “Invictus,” known for its famous last stanza:
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
In the heat of the summer, and the precipitous rain, I haven’t done a whole lot of writing. Nonetheless, I have been learning, and—after experimenting on myself before forcing a group of innocent bystanders to try Compass, Kraken, Captain—I crystallized a few important takeaways to carry into the months ahead.
A leader knows who works for whom. This is my compass. I’ve never loved the term “servant leader”—”leader” should suffice on its own—though I believe true leaders work for their people. Teachers work for their students. Parents work for their kids. Coaches work for their players. Politicians work for their constituents. I really can’t think of a time when it’s preferable for leaders to expect that people work for them. History has shown how that goes.
My kraken is the fear that I am wasting my time. I recently found myself shopping for my next audiobook while listening to my current audiobook, so as to not waste a moment after the conclusion of Octavia Butler’s Kindred. When I registered that a major character had dramatically reappeared in the storyline after a five-year absence—to my delayed surprise—I became aware of my foolishness. When I realized that I already had three other books lined up, I was sure I had a problem. To slay this beast, I needed to be more mindful.
Assuming the role of captain, I plan to lean into discomfort. I imagine standing at the spoked helm of a wooden ship and sailing into a storm, the rain whipping my face, the salt stinging my eyes, and the wind failing to stifle my laughter. A term I like even less than servant leadership is “killing time,” though I can’t argue with the accuracy of the expression. We kill our awareness of time and conscious experience, most often by drifting in the glowing bubbles of our screens. I will avoid searching for ways to spend my time and focus more on experiencing it.
Earth-shattering leadership insights? Eh. Maybe not. If nothing else, I am reminded of the power of reflection. I’ll take the leader who knows nothing and learns everything over the one who knows everything and learns nothing eight days a week. Learning is an endless process of reflection, choosing to undergo serious thought despite the temptation to float with ease like a balloon in the breeze. The leader does more than stumble upon learning. Leaders operate with a “head on a swivel.” Looking to lead is looking to learn.