Principles of Balance

I am a certified rock balancer. I mention it midway through my LinkedIn profile and speaking bios, just to see who’s reading all the way through. Whenever I mention it people inevitably disregard any other topic of conversation to ask, “what is that all about?!”

I suppose it’s my own fault. I call it out now whenever I give a presentation about practical agility or creative leadership. And that’s because people have discovered something that was, for me, hidden in plain sight: the very thing that I used to casually toss off as a fun trivia topic is actually core to what I do for a vocation.

I learned how to balance rocks at Mindcamp, an annual changemaker and creativity community gathering in Toronto, Ontario. It was my first visit and everyone I met insisted I had to attend the rock balancing session. Much like those who respond to my certification, I was incredulous. I listened politely, only half believing that there was such a thing, all the while hiding my intrigue. 

We met in a classroom on the ground floor of the site’s main cabin. The instructor introduced herself and her husband. They shared their rock balancing journey and the number of people to whom they have introduced their love of the craft. I was still skeptical, especially when the instructor wrote the three principles of rock balancing on an easel:

1. Any two rocks will balance over time
2. The rocks must speak to you

I freely admit I do not remember the third principle. That might explain why I remain a rank amateur. But I learned enough to prove to myself that it is, in fact, possible to balance almost any two rocks at random – provided they speak to me.

My favorite location for rock balancing is on the Massachusetts coast. From the time my children were old enough to walk to the time they went to college, my family used to vacation there every other summer. We would go to the beach early to find parking, settle the kids in with sandcastles or finding sea creatures, and then I would go hunting for rocks. Or should I say, listening. Which is how every good facilitation begins.

Principle 1: Any two rocks will balance over time

Rock balancing begins with observation. You cannot know which rocks will be more inclined to balance until you spend time getting to know them. Some speak to me instantly: the shape that looks like it will never defy gravity; the heft that will never move once it finds its balance. Then there are others that just look like a challenge to find out how they will respond to the balancing process.

My best rock balances begin with a solid foundation: a larger rock that is anchored in a sandbar gives me confidence that I have something sturdy to test my chosen rock’s potential to balance with it. And because gravity is involved in the negotiation, you really need to know you’re not fighting with the stability of both rocks at the same time. So you want to know the two rocks are on solid ground before you get started. 

Principle 2: The rocks must speak to you

True rock balancing is a negotiation. Once you find two rocks that look promising, you have to facilitate a conversation. If observing is about assessing one rock’s potential to balance with another, negotiating the relationship is about listening for their mutual “tells” that indicate how and where balancing is most likely to occur.

The negotiation goes something like a dance. I rest the upper rock on the lower one to introduce them to each other. Unless both rocks each have a flat surface, or I am just stacking them (and there is a big difference between rocking and stacking*), no rock stands upended in an unnatural manner on the first try. Negotiating balance requires patience and persistence.

But here is what you will discover the first time you attempt to introduce two rocks to each other: you can feel the conversation taking place. The rocks speak to you through your hands-on movement of negotiating their balancing dance. The upper rock will tell you how gravity is pulling it out of balance, and it will tell you how much of a connection the rocks are making. Now the negotiation is all a matter of maneuvering the upper rock until it tells you it is feeling less gravity resistance and more centeredness with the lower rock.

This is when flow begins, and time stands still. Now is when it starts to get fun.

Principle 3: You’ll know it when you feel it

Remember how I said there were three principles and I only know two? I’m pretty sure this is the third: there is a moment when every rock pair just, well, clicks. It always feels like the rocks have locked in. I slowly pull my hands away. The rocks remain standing in an unearthly opposition to gravity. And just like that, we experience serendipity.

The best part of rock balancing at low tide is that I can initiate this rock sculpting dance as many times as I want. And when people who didn't see me doing it show up, they are mystified. It is as if they stepped into a mini-Stonehenge. It is so gratifying to walk away and leave people wondering, "how did that happen?".

Principle 4: Rock balancing is a metaphor for dealing with life (and teams)

I believe I discovered the third principle when I started doing post-doctoral research on how teams find rhythm and flow and ultimately collaborate to breakthrough. These principles play in real-life collaboration. Serendipity happens on the best teams I have ever coached. But even when it appears as if it were as magical as two rocks striking a gravity-defying pose, the basic principles of collaboration are remarkably similar:

• Teams find balance over time, provided all members speak to each other.
• Breakthrough teaming rests on a foundation of trust. No trust, no vulnerability: no way of finding out what is working and what isn’t.
• The best teams have a shared understanding of their collective purpose, process, and team dynamic for producing purpose-driven, impactful-yet-sustainable outcomes. Shared understanding on any team is a moving target and requires patient, persistent negotiation.
• When breakthrough teams establish shared understanding, the collaborative dance begins. Creative flow is a natural byproduct of the dance.
• No one may know how it happened, but something magical happens. Suddenly there is a delightful outcome.

So how do I apply it in my organizational transformation practice? Teamwork, like rock balancing, is an ephemeral endeavor. Collaborating to breakthrough with consistency and predictability is like making two or more perfectly good rocks stand on end in an unearthly manner. But when a team truly excels and learns to sustain breakthroughs (and dare I say, scale across an organization), it is a joy to be part of the process.

Still, I recommend trying your hand at balancing rocks first. I have found they tend to be more open to finding balance than people.

*Rock balancing is to rock stacking as leadership is to management; anyone can stack rocks, but it takes special skill to cause a number of rocks to defy gravity