Photo courtesy of Mr Kornflakes on Canva
On the shelf above my fridge there are 3 juggling balls. Every now and again I bring them down off the shelf and I juggle for a little while. It takes me a few dropped balls before I get back into the rhythm. Throw…Throw…Catch…Throw…Throw…Catch…Throw…Throw. I aim for at least 30 repetitions. Then I pop the balls back on the shelf and go about the rest of my day.
This little practice helps to recalibrate my brain when the metaphorical juggle gets too much.
I first learned to juggle on a leadership development program. It was an intensive, 2-week residential program at the Australian Graduate School of Management. On the first day we were each given our pack of juggling balls along with instructions entitled Learning to Juggle. We discovered that at the end of the 2 weeks we would be competing in a juggling competition against our fellow participants and anyone who could achieve 30 repetitions of juggling without dropping a ball would win.
We had only just met each other, 24 other aspiring leaders from business, government and the not for profit sector all over Australia. None of us knew how to juggle. We all laughed at the thought that our respective bosses had sent us on an expensive program at a top university to learn how to juggle.
As our shiny new juggling balls were unboxed, the classroom became a blur of colour and noise as we all made brazen attempts at this thing called juggling. Balls flew everywhere. The room was abuzz with chatter, laughter and frustration. Not one of us had thought to refer to the instruction sheet laying on our desks. We were soon brought back to order by our instructor. “Put two of your balls away, now,” he told us, “you will only need one ball for the next 2 days.”
It was only then that we decided to refer to the instructions. We were to spend the next 2 days mastering the arc and pressure of throwing and catching one ball. Left to right. Right to left. Before we started lessons for the day, we practiced. In every break, we practiced. Left to right. Right to left.
By day 4 we had advanced to the stage of practicing with 3 balls. Observing the other participants and their reaction to our juggling practice was intriguing. Some had given up on day 1. They had decided this was stupid and a complete waste of time. They had come to learn about leadership. So their juggling balls sat on their desks, untouched. Others — like me — were relishing the experience. Why not learn how to juggle. After all, we were learning plenty of new things.
At the end of the two week program, those of us who were still partaking in this little bit of fun stood at the front of the classroom and juggled. From the chaos that had ensued on the first day, most of us had got to a point where we could do multiple repetitions without dropping a ball. As I got into my groove, I whizzed past the 30 repetitions and claimed the prize. Along with one other fellow participant, I could proudly say that I’d learned to juggle 3 balls.
At the time, we all put this juggling thing down to be some form of ice-breaker. A fun activity to intersperse between the real work.
Years later as my juggling balls have travelled to different workplaces and now reside proudly in the centre of my home, I realise that this juggling thing has been a significant learning in more ways than one.
Obviously, there was the learning itself. The patience, persistence and resilience required to learn a new skill. Using the lessons of another — our instructions — and incorporating our own learning that came from the day in, day out practice. And, of course, practice. At every opportunity, do the work.
As I took on more senior leadership roles, I realised how strongly a metaphor juggling was in the leadership context. I may be able to juggle 3 actual balls, but in my work I have often juggled many more than that. Parenthood and running my own business has only cemented the metaphor in my mind.
Throw…Throw…Catch…Throw…Throw…Catch…Throw…Throw.
As I meld the metaphor with the physical act of moving my 3 colourful juggling balls effortlessly through the air, it reminds me that I’ve got this. It will be okay. I can juggle.
Click here if you, too, want to learn how to juggle 🤹♀️