Guy Reams (00:00.866)
This is day 45, lessons from the trapeze. I once stood under the big top after a show and spoke with a trapeze artist. The tent had gone quiet, the crowd had drifted away, and the rigging still hummed with a little energy. I asked about the moment when the flyer lets go. The answer was simple and sharp. You do your job in the air and you trust your partner to be there. You do not hesitate. If you pause and wonder, you missed a catch.
That conversation has followed me into my work. My business partner recently used the same picture to describe what we were trying to build together. Our company is not a circus and our moves are not as intricate, yet the principle still seems to hold. If we must stop to question whether someone will do their part, we already have lost the rhythm. We need a culture where people swing on time, reach on time, and catch on time. That is what trust feels like when it is lived and not just spoken.
The trapeze does not work with partial trust. This is not romantic language. It is physics. Any hesitation adds distance, and distance adds gravity. The flyer cannot carry both stunt and doubt at the same time. The catcher cannot adjust for uncertainty that should have been settled before the climb. In a high-performance team, the same law seems to apply. If I'm halfway sold on your commitment, if I keep a hedge in my mind just in case,
then something is already off in our relationship. We either fix that gap together or we accept that we are not ready for difficult work. So what does it take to build the kind of trust that lets a person fly without a second thought? First, role clarity. On the platform, you know the count, the grip, the timing, and the arc. In the office, you know the definition of done, the owner, the deadline, and the standards. Ambiguity is where distrust seems to breed.
Second, visible practice. Trapeze partners rehearse to catch a thousand times or maybe even more than a thousand times. Teams rehearse with small promises kept on time. A short daily stand-up, a closed loop on a customer issue, a clear readout on progress. Repetition creates proof. Proof creates confidence. Third, honest feedback. Flyers and catchers talk about misses without drama. We need the same reflex in our company.
Guy Reams (02:25.79)
Was the hands too late? Was the swing flat? Was the spec vague? Say it clean, then adjust. Fourth, shared consequences. When a pair misses a catch, they both learn. When a team misses a milestone, leaders speak in the first person, no throwing anyone off the platform. We own our own results. Fifth, character on display. Skill gets you into the bar, character keeps you there. Do you show up early? Do you tell the truth when you are wrong? Do you take the hard task without being asked?
These are the small fires that forge trust. There's a final lesson from the trapeze that I remind myself of often. Trust is not blind. It is earned, then guarded. If it breaks, it breaks loudly. And we should treat that alarm with respect. Either we repair with candor or action, or we make a change. Keep a quiet reserve of doubt while pretending to commit the worst of both worlds. It ruins the jump and insults the catcher.
If you sense hesitation on your team today, you can do something about it before the next swing. Name the catch that matters this week. Put that count in writing. Ask each person to declare what they're going to do to make the catch inevitable. Practice in public. Short updates, honest notes, specific ask. Close the loop. Celebrate the catch or study the miss without blame. Make one promise you can keep by the end of the day and then keep it.
We learn to fly by keeping small promises until big promises feel normal. In time, the space between letting go and being caught becomes the most trustworthy part of the work. You do your job in the air and you know your partner will be there. That is how teams do brave things and do them again and again tomorrow and the next day.