Spotting: On Focus, Turning and Finding Your Way Back
When a dancer turns, she does something that looks almost impossible to a beginner. As her body rotates, her eyes stay fixed on a single point for as long as they can. Then, at the last moment, her head whips around and finds the same point again before the body has finished the turn. Dancers call this spotting. It is how they can turn again and again without losing their balance or their sense of direction.
The first time a teacher explained spotting to me, I tried it in the corner of the studio and was astonished by the difference. Without it, I finished a turn dizzy and unsure where the front of the room was. With it, the world steadied. I had something to return to.
A point to return to
What I love about spotting is its simplicity. It does not stop the turning. The dancer still moves quickly, still spins through space. She simply chooses one fixed point and keeps coming back to it. That single choice is what keeps her oriented.
I think a busy season of work feels very much like a series of turns. Requests arrive from every direction. Priorities shift. The day spins. In those seasons, I have learned to ask myself a simple question: what is my spot? What is the one thing that matters most right now, the point I will keep returning to no matter how quickly everything else is moving?
Choosing the spot
A dancer chooses her spot deliberately, usually something at eye level in the direction she is travelling. A spot that is too low or poorly chosen will throw off the whole turn. The choice matters.
In leadership, the spot is usually not a task. It is a purpose: the wellbeing of the team, the experience of the people we serve, the standard we have agreed to hold. When I choose a spot like that, smaller decisions become clearer. I can turn through a demanding week and still know which way is forward.
The quick return
The most striking part of spotting is the speed of the head. The body may turn smoothly, but the eyes leave the spot only for the briefest moment before returning. The dancer does not wander. She comes back quickly and reliably.
I think of this when my attention drifts, as everyone’s does. The goal is not to never look away. That is impossible in a full life. The goal is to come back quickly and kindly, without scolding myself for having turned. A short morning ritual helps me: a few quiet minutes to name the spot for the day before the turning begins.
Focus is a form of calm
Dizziness is not only physical. When we try to look at everything at once, we lose our balance emotionally too. We feel scattered, reactive and tired. Spotting offers a gentler way. It narrows the gaze, not out of rigidity, but out of care for our own steadiness.
This is emotional intelligence directed inward. Knowing what deserves our attention, and what can wait, protects our energy for the people and work that matter most. It also helps the people around us. A team takes its cue from where its leader is looking. If I am spinning, they spin. If I keep coming back to a clear point, they can find it too.
Many turns, one direction
A beautiful sequence of turns in ballet, whether a series of chaînés travelling across the stage or a pirouette held to the very end of the music, always seems to have a destination. The dancer finishes facing exactly where she meant to, poised and calm. All of that movement was going somewhere.
That is what I hope for in a busy season. Not stillness, which is rarely available, but direction. Many turns, one spot, and the steady, quiet confidence of knowing where the front of the room is.
When I step away from the corner of the studio now, slightly breathless and a little less dizzy than I used to be, I carry that lesson with me. Choose your spot. Return to it quickly. Let it steady you, however fast the world is turning.