The Empty Boat and the Weight We Carry

Not long ago, I stumbled across an ancient Taoist parable that reshaped the way I think about conflict in leadership. The story is simple. You are rowing down a river and another boat collides with you. If you assume someone is steering, you get angry. You blame them for being careless. But if you realize the boat is empty, the anger vanishes. There is no one to blame—just a drifting vessel carried by the current. 

That image stopped me. Because after more than twenty years of leading multifamily operations, I realized how often I treat collisions in business as though every boat has a captain. Every terse email, every defensive comment in a meeting, every missed deliverable—I interpret it as intentional. Someone did this to me or at me. But what if most of those boats are empty? 

Empty Boats in Operations 

In multifamily housing, our waters are crowded. Hundreds of touchpoints happen daily between site teams, residents, vendors, owners, regulators, and corporate staff. It is not a question of whether collisions will happen—it is how we interpret them when they do. 

That terse email from a regional? It might not be disrespect. It might be a product of stress piling up across a dozen properties. That defensive tone from a maintenance supervisor? It might not be defiance. It might be fear about job security or frustration with a lack of resources. That missed deliverable from accounting? It might not be neglect. It might be a blind spot colliding with an unrealistic expectation. 

When I assume intent, I carry unnecessary weight. I react with frustration, I personalize the problem, and I waste energy in resentment. When I see the boat as empty, I approach the situation with curiosity instead of anger. I ask questions. I look for root causes. I separate the person from the collision. 

The Leadership Cost of Carrying Blame 

I’ve learned that the emotional energy leaders spend interpreting collisions often outweighs the operational issue itself. I once lost half a day replaying a sharp comment from a colleague in my head. By the time I actually spoke to them, I discovered they had no idea how it landed. They were rushing between back-to-back meetings and barely remembered saying it. The “boat” was empty, but I carried it as if it were full of malice. 

In our industry, that weight compounds. Leaders who carry every collision personally burn out. They escalate small issues into conflicts. They drag stress from one meeting into the next. And teams feel it. 

Accountability Without Ego 

The empty boat mindset does not mean excusing poor performance or avoiding accountability. Boats still collide, and damage still happens. Leaders still need to hold people responsible for actions and outcomes. But accountability and resentment are not the same thing. 

When I filter collisions through the question, “What if this boat is empty?” I can enforce standards without fueling ego battles. I can coach performance without layering in unnecessary judgment. I can correct mistakes while preserving trust. 

That distinction matters. In property management, teams already operate under pressure. If leaders respond to every collision with blame, they amplify stress instead of solving it. If leaders separate accountability from anger, they model resilience and set a healthier tone. 

A Story From the Field 

Several years ago, a project manager missed a critical deadline on a capital improvement plan. I was frustrated and ready to confront them sharply. But I paused and asked myself: “What if this boat is empty?” 

When we sat down, I discovered they had been covering for a colleague who had unexpectedly left, and their workload had quietly doubled. The deadline slip wasn’t negligence—it was overload. We adjusted resources, reset priorities, and avoided what could have become a damaging conflict. 

Had I assumed intent, I would have burned a bridge. By treating it like an empty boat, we solved the problem and preserved the relationship. 

A Filter for Leadership 

These days, I use a simple filter before reacting: What if this boat is empty? 

If it is, then the collision is about systems, stress, or blind spots—not about me. That shift reframes my response. I bring empathy instead of anger, curiosity instead of judgment, clarity instead of conflict. 

And even when the boat isn’t empty—when intent really is behind the action—the pause helps me respond more thoughtfully. By assuming neutrality first, I give myself space to lead instead of lash out. 

Why This Matters Now 

The pace and pressure of our industry are not slowing down. Rising costs, regulatory demands, and resident expectations make collisions inevitable. Leaders cannot control the currents. But we can control how much unnecessary weight we carry. 

When we treat every bump as a personal attack, we exhaust ourselves and our teams. When we recognize that most boats are empty, we free ourselves from wasted emotional energy and redirect focus to what matters most: solving problems, supporting teams, and serving residents. 

Closing Reflection 

Leadership is not about avoiding collisions. It is about navigating them with clarity, steadiness, and perspective. The empty boat parable is a reminder that much of what feels personal in the moment is not. 

So the next time you feel frustration rising from a terse email, a defensive tone, or a missed deliverable, pause and ask: What if this boat is empty? 

The answer may not only lighten your load—it may also transform the culture around you. 

Because whether you are weathering wild winds or walking with wins, your willingness to lead with warmth, wit, and wisdom sets the tone for your entire team. And sometimes, the most powerful leadership shift is simply deciding which boats you choose to carry.