The sun beat down on me… the kind of Dalmatian heat that makes you question every life choice involving sails and salt water. After a long day navigating the sapphire labyrinth of the Croatian islands, I was ready for the cool embrace of a quiet harbor. We were approaching our berth in Korčula, a picturesque but notoriously snug little quay, and the traditional Mediterranean stern-to mooring was upon us.
This maneuver, for the uninitiated, is less about grace and more about controlled chaos. You drop anchor a boat’s length or two out, then reverse, ever so slowly, towards the concrete pier. The goal? Get as much chain as possible into the water, have the anchor dig in, halt your forward momentum, and then pull you taut, leaving just enough space to toss your stern lines ashore. Simple in theory, terrifying in practice… especially when the quay looks close enough to high-five.
Then, maybe four meters to go: “Just stay in reverse,” the marinero on the dock called out, his voice as calm as one can imagine. “Don’t touch anything. Trust the anchor. It will hold you.”
My instincts screamed, “Intervene! Adjust! We’re too close! Do something!” But I didn’t. I held the wheel steady, kept the engine in a gentle reverse, and fought the primal urge to “fix” what felt precariously close to disaster.
Then, a subtle lurch. The anchor chain sang. The boat, that heavy beast of fiberglass and dreams, came to a halt. Perfect stillness. Perfect timing. We were precisely where we needed to be, the stern just kissing distance from the quay. The hardest, and wisest, move in that moment had been to do absolutely nothing at all.
What Dalmatia Knows That Silicon Valley Doesn’t
That moment on the water was partly a docking lesson and partly an impromptu masterclass in Fjaka. In Dalmatia, Fjaka is a revered state of mind, a cultivated peaceful presence that borders on a spiritual experience. It’s the art of conscious, intentional inaction. It’s knowing when the universe (or in my case, the anchor) has got the wheel, and your job is simply to exist in that unfolding moment.
The system is in motion. Your job is to trust the principles you’ve applied and enjoy the ride, nit to over-optimize every micro-second.
This stands in stark contrast to the Western leadership bias, where “action” is almost a god. We fetishize busyness, celebrate constant doing, and often mistake hyperactivity for productivity. In many leadership cultures, inaction is seen as weakness, a sign of indecision or lack of control. But in Dalmatia, stillness isn’t a void; it can be the pinnacle of mastery. Fjaka is the confidence to let a system unfold, and the humility to not interfere. It’s not giving up, but giving space.
Doing Less, Leading More – How Trust Becomes a Superpower
My docking epiphany is a potent metaphor for countless leadership scenarios. How often do we launch a project, empower a team, or craft a meticulous strategy, only to hover like a nervous parent at a school play?
Consider:
- The delicate final phase of a project. You’ve laid the groundwork, the team is executing, but the pressure to deliver makes you want to micromanage every last detail.
- A team in motion. They have their marching orders, their rhythm. Do they need more “guidance,” or just the space to get the job done without your well-intentioned but often disruptive interventions?
- A carefully set strategy. You’ve debated, planned, and communicated. Now, instead of trusting the process, do you find yourself constantly tinkering, pulling levers, or adding new directives?
This relentless urge to “do more” often creates friction, breaks flow, and subtly undermines the very trust we aim to build.
Sometimes, progress unfolds if we hold tension, create space, or, most counter-intuitively, resist the urge to fix. Often, we start fixing things that aren’t broken, simply because we feel the urge to be “doing” something or simply because we are not trusting enough that all is as it should be.
In a world obsessed with action, one of the rarest skills is the discipline to do nothing – not out of fear, but out of trust.
Quiet Confidence: 3 Ways to Practice Fjaka at Work
So, how do you inject a little Dalmatian stillness into your high-stakes, high-velocity life? It’s not about slacking off, but about pauses and intentional trust.
Here are some concrete ideas to practice Fjaka in the business world:
Decision Fjaka
For non-critical decisions that feel pressured, institute a 24-hour Fjaka. Don’t respond immediately. Let the information settle. Often, the best course of action (or inaction) becomes clear when you allow yourself to uncouple from the immediate urgency.
Implementation Fjaka
After implementing a new process, tool, or team structure, commit to a “silent observation” period. Don’t immediately jump in with tweaks. Let the system run, let the team adapt. Observe friction points, but resist the urge to “fix” until you have enough data (and trust) to make an informed, non-reactive decision.
Delegation Fjaka
When you delegate a task or project, give clear parameters, then literally walk away. Resist the urge to “check in” every hour. Set a future check-in point, and until then, trust .
Let It Hold: What Anchoring Can Teach Us About Leading With Presence
Return to the image of that perfectly anchored boat. Great leadership sometimes feels like letting go of the wheel just as things feel most uncertain. It’s about understanding the hidden cost of over-leading – the way constant interference can silently drain team autonomy, stifle initiative, and create a culture of dependency.
Fjaka is never about escaping responsibility. Fjaka is about stepping fully into presence and discerning when your energy is best spent enabling the system, rather than trying to become the system itself.
So, as you navigate your own complex waters, consider these questions:
- Where am I forcing something that doesn’t need force?
- Where could a deliberate pause, a moment of Fjaka, lead to a better outcome?
- What if true progress… isn’t always loud? What if it’s the quiet hum of a system working, unmolested?
Maybe progress isn’t always about moving things forward. Maybe it’s about knowing when doing nothing will carry you the rest of the way.