Striking the Centre of Gravity
Be Better
We're going to talk about the mid-life muddle, and we're going to do it like strategists. Forget the usual platitudes – the self-help fluff and the sensible shoes advice. We're going to look at this like a campaign, because frankly, that's precisely what it is. Your life, your campaign. And if you're feeling bogged down, stagnant, like the engine's sputtering, chances are you're not hitting the right target.
Think of it like this: everyone, every organisation, even every damn feeling of inertia you're grappling with, has a centre of gravity. It’s the lynchpin, the bit that if you whack it, the whole bloody thing wobbles, perhaps even collapses. We tend to focus on the obvious – the physical manifestation of a problem, the opponent’s big right hook. But as any half-decent strategist will tell you, the real power, the real vulnerability, lies deeper. It's not the punch; it's the legs the boxer stands on. It's not the enemy army's size; it's the logistical train that keeps them fed and supplied.
Look at Hannibal. Dazzled the Romans, he did, with his marches and his elephants. They were so scared, they just tried to avoid him. But Scipio Africanus, a man who saw things differently, didn't chase Hannibal's army around Italy like a headless chicken. He looked beyond the obvious. He saw Spain wasn't just a territory; it was Hannibal's frigging supply line, his source of power. And within Spain? Not just any town – New Carthage. He goes straight for it. Turns the war on its head.
Then, instead of getting bogged down attacking the glittering prize of the city of Carthage, he goes for the breadbasket – the fertile land that generated the wealth funding the whole damn operation. It's like crippling the enemy's ability to pay the bills. Masterstroke. He forces Hannibal to come to him, on his terms, on ground where Hannibal's usual advantages were nullified. Zama? Just the inevitable consequence of hitting the enemy's true centres of gravity.
So, when you're looking at your own sense of being stuck, when you're seeing the signs of middle-aged stagnation – the waistline creeping, the fire dimming, the nagging feeling you're just going through the motions – ask yourself: what's the centre of gravity holding this in place?
It’s rarely the obvious. It’s not just getting older, is it? Plenty of chaps hit their stride later in life. It's not just routine; we all have routines. It's something deeper, something that supports that feeling of 'blah'.
Clausewitz, bless his heart, got it right: war is just politics by other means. And these principles of power, of finding the centre of gravity, apply to absolutely everything. To individuals, to organisations, even to the internal landscape of your own bloody head.
Your personal centre of gravity might not be wealth or popularity (though they can be support systems). It could be:
Your established routine: That comfortable, predictable rhythm that feels safe but has become a cage.
Your fear of change: The sheer inertia of 'better the devil you know' that keeps you from taking a punt.
Your dependence on external validation: Relying on others to tell you you're alright, rather than finding it within.
A specific skill or identity you’ve clung to: The 'expert' who's stopped learning, the 'sportsman' whose knees are shot but won't adapt.
These are the legs you're standing on. When you feel wobbly, it's because these foundations aren't supporting you effectively anymore, or perhaps they've become the problem themselves.
And just like an army’s outward display can be deceptive, our own presentation of 'fine, thanks' can hide the wobbling foundations. The bravado, the same old stories, the predictable responses – these are the uniforms and the marching drills. The real power, or lack thereof, is hidden.
To find your own centre of gravity, the thing that’s truly enabling this stagnation, you have to look beyond the obvious. You have to peel back the layers, like Scipio figuring out Carthage's dependencies.
Start with the feeling of being stuck. Where does that feeling come from? Not just 'I'm bored', but why are you bored? What specific aspect of your life feels heaviest?
What are you most reluctant to change? That reluctance is a sign you're touching on a centre of gravity, something you depend on, even if it's a dependency that's holding you back.
What conversations do you avoid having with yourself or others? What truths are you glossing over? The blind spots are often where the hidden power sources (or their dysfunction) lie.
Is it a fear of failure so entrenched that it paralyses you? Is it a dependence on a particular relationship dynamic that’s toxic but familiar? Is it pride in a certain aspect of your life that prevents you from admitting you need to pivot?
These more abstract centres of gravity – like a reputation, a capacity to deceive yourself, or even a negative predictability – can be crippled if you can expose them, make them unusable. If your centre of gravity is a fear of looking foolish, the antidote isn't to try and be perfectly smooth; it's to deliberately risk looking a bit daft, to normalise imperfection.
Remember Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier. Frazier’s physical power was immense, his punch legendary. But Ali didn't just box him; he got inside his head. Called him names, taunted him relentlessly. He attacked Frazier’s mind, his emotional control, his ultimate centre of gravity. By making Frazier furious, he threw him off balance, making him predictable. When Frazier went into the ring fuming, consumed by anger, his physical power was still there, but it lacked its necessary balance, its control. Ali hit the real target, and Frazier became vulnerable.
So, gentlemen, stop swinging wildly at the symptoms of middle age. Stop trying the latest fad diet or buying the same old beige trousers. That's hitting the boxer's punch. Look at the legs. Look at what's holding the stagnation in place. What's the foundation, the support system, the hidden source of energy (or lack thereof) that's keeping you where you are?
Identify the real centre of gravity. It will hurt to confront, perhaps deeply. It might involve acknowledging something uncomfortable about yourself, your habits, or your dependencies. But once you see it, truly see it, you have the strategic option. You can undermine it gently or strike it directly. You can find an angle to attack that will create more dislocation, more productive panic, than a hundred attempts at superficial change.
Don't be conventional. Don't assume your centre of gravity is the same as your mate's. Look below the surface. Find the support system of your stagnation, and start dismantling it. Because no power, no stagnation, can stand without its legs. Now, think about that. And then, for God's sake, do something about it.
Life is a constant evolution, a dance with change that shapes who we are and where we’re headed. And just like life, this site is transforming once more. I don’t yet know where this journey will lead, but that’s the beauty of it—each shift brings us closer to where we’re meant to be.
Change is not a sign of uncertainty, but of growth. It’s the path we must take to uncover our true purpose. And while we may not always understand where life is guiding us, it’s in the act of seeking, of embracing the flow, that we discover our direction.
Imagine life as a river, with its tides, currents, and eddies. If we fight against the current, we tire and falter. But if we surrender to it, letting it guide us, we might just find ourselves exactly where we’re meant to be.
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