Reflection: Between the Gates

On her recent Dare to Lead podcast, Brené Brown reads an excerpt from her new book, Solid Ground. In it she described ship locks, sometimes called water elevators in canals, and it’s an image that has stayed with me.

For those who haven’t seen them: when a ship moves from one body of water to another, the water levels are rarely the same. The lock closes on both ends, and the water is raised or lowered using the slow force of gravity until things are level. Only then do the gates open and the ship moves forward. Skip that pause, and the ship would be tossed in turbulent waters at risk of damage or even capsizing.

It’s a striking analogy for us in medicine. We’re often trying to get so many things done that we move immediately from one environment to the next: home to work, work to home, clinic to teaching, hospital to clinic. We expect ourselves to switch roles instantly, without giving time for the waters to level out.

I see this in coaching and in medicine all the time. Faculty feel the stress of immediately being “on” parental duty, or having a partner want needing help with home logistics and life issues as soon as they arrive home; or being pulled into troubleshooting by MAs or program staff the second they walk into the residency.

That’s where this metaphor helps. It gives language to the experience and a way to name what’s needed: a “lock-through.” The chance ask for what's needed, set boundaries, and pause.

For some, that looks like coming in early, making tea, opening the computer, and reviewing the day before it officially starts. For one resident, it was taking the long way home along the coast so she could arrive ready to be present. For another attending, it meant setting the expectation at home: “I’m going to shower first, and then I’ll be all yours.” (That shower - the first unrushed moment of the day).

These moments don’t have to be long, sometimes five minutes and a breath are enough. But they allow us to lock through, level up or down, and then be fully ready to engage and be more present.

In the middle of the gates, the ship isn’t moving forward yet. But the pause is what makes the next leg possible.

Reflection: Where might you, or those you lead, need a lock-through moment before moving on to what’s next? What would change if you saw these moments as important as the next role itself?