Cadence
I’m really lucky to lead a small environmental campaigning charity from the Wild West fringes of the UK, on Cornwall’s north coast. For most of the year we are battered by storms, westerly gales and huge swells, but currently we are basking in Californian sunshine and have had a procession of the most beautiful, groomed swells dissipating their energy across pristine golden sands. It has been a treat to immerse myself in the sparkling world of waves before or after the working day. Not that we really know currently when the working day starts or stops. It’s a three step commute from my bed to my desk, and days seem to blend into each other like some sort of hallucination.
The ocean is such a remedy from these physically reclusive and distant times. A release from lockdown, the expectations, the business planning and re-planning, and the vague government goalposts. A place where I feel at one again, alive, and free from the Corona dust blanket that has enveloped the world. Thankfully the weather and waves have been kind during these strange times.
The weather can be brutal and beautiful down here. Heartbreakingly lovely on the best days, wild and unpredictable on the worst (some might say these days are the best – my wife loves the ferocious winter winds). The conditions that make you feel most alive will always come around again. Similarly to surfing and the capricious nature of waves, the rhythm of the energy, the synchronisation, the times that the nature’s wavelength aligns with your wavelength is often fleeting. You get to experience your best days by design, by chance, by default, by luck, all in varying quantities.
I’ve now been at the helm of Surfers Against Sewage for almost twelve years, riding the highs and lows, making my luck, catching some luck, bringing experience and learning on the job. I love it, a nexus of my two greatest passions – the environment and sport. The current crisis has been a challenge and leading even our small charity has been intense. So many uncertainties, so many changes, so many different conditions, like the weather, like the waves. Some we could prepare for, some we couldn’t. Some we expected, some we didn’t.
I’ve tried to lead by making good and clear decisions, based on the best possible information I have at the time. Communicating to the people that need to know in real-time. I think that communicating clearly could become a defining strength for many during these times.
But it has been a struggle at times too – as a leader I’ve felt I’ve needed to inspire constantly, be prophetic and have the ability to constantly reassure. But this is a trap. Sure, I have the experience, knowledge and ability to do this. I care about the world and the people around me. It is part of my responsibility. But not always. One of the things that I have learnt is just like the weather and waves, there are peaks and troughs to these moments, a changing cadence or frequency, and different people will tune in differently to what is said. And the part I have overlooked most is communicating my optimum and flow.
The surfs that make me happy, the times that I’m unsure, and my need to switch off. The need for people to know that I’m switched off. Not for bad, but for good, because we all need to recharge, find our rhythm, process the pressures and round the rough edges we can all develop under expectation.
I love what I do, but I also love not doing what I do sometimes. A wave, a beer, a punk album or two, a caper.
Despite the mayhem and tragedy around us, I think we are lucky to be able to be in the midst of a world that is changing radically before our eyes. As we emerge from the crisis, we need to make sure we hold on to and practice the things we love most. And we need to make sure that those around us see and understand what makes us tick.
Hugo Tagholm