Eight Scary Facilitation Moments that Mean Change is Coming
Welcome to Between the Leaves, the podcast where we talk about what really happens inside of hard conversations, the kinds that move teams from tension into clarity. I'm Ellie Scott. I'm the founder and chief strategist of Bayleaf Consulting, and I spend my days in rooms where decisions get made sometimes easily and sometimes not at all.
Over the years, I've learned that some of the most uncomfortable moments in a conversation are actually the best ones. They look scary, but they mean that something is about to shift. Today I want to share eight of those moments. These are the signals that tell me the group is on the edge of something real, and I lean in.
Number one: the eye roll.
When I see an eye roll, I don't think “disrespect,” I think “data.” Someone just showed me exactly where the disconnect lives and how deeply they feel it. Eye rolls are emotional, honesty disguised as sarcasm. They tell me the group's energy is bumping up against frustration or fatigue.
Maybe they've heard the same buzzwords for years. Maybe they've seen leaders promise change that never happens. Instead of calling it out, I get curious. I might say, “I noticed some reactions. What's hitting or missing for you?” That small opening gives people permission to drop their performance and tell the truth. Then that's where we can actually begin working.
Number two: the quiet voice finally speaks.
Oh man, every facilitator knows this moment. You've been scanning the room, watching who holds back, who lets others dominate the conversation, and then finally the quiet person leans in and says something. And almost every time it's gold. As I'm recording this, I actually am getting chills thinking about that.
They've been listening deeply. They notice patterns, and they've been waiting for the right opening, and when they speak, it's not noise. It's a signal. My job in that moment is to protect that space. I slow my pace. I turn the group's attention to that person and let some silence do the work. That one contribution can reframe the entire conversation if people truly hear it.
It's not about giving the quiet person their turn. It's about showing the group that reflection and courage are both forms of leadership.
Number three: “We've tried that before!”.
Ugh. This one can sound like a roadblock, but it's actually wisdom in disguise.
When someone says, “we've tried that before,” they're not shutting you down. They're actually remembering some pain. Maybe the last initiative burned people out. Maybe leadership shifted priorities halfway through. Maybe they did the right thing at the wrong time. Maybe they did the wrong thing, and now their time is right.
Instead of defending that idea, I ask, “Well, what happened when you tried that?” Usually, their story holds the key to what's different now or what still needs healing before we can try again. In facilitation, resistance is often history speaking. If you honor it, you can turn frustration into insight.
Number four: talking past each other.
Two people, same words. Totally different meanings. That's when facilitation becomes translation. It's easy to assume miscommunication is about not listening, but often it's about different values or lived experiences underneath that language. When I hear people repeat themselves louder, like volume might force understanding, I slow the room down, I might say, “I think you're using the same words, but you mean different things. Can we pause here and just unpack that for a minute?” That moment of translation can change everything. 'Cause clarity isn't found in the middle. It's found in understanding each side fully and letting them be what they are.
Number five: laughter in a serious moment.
I love to laugh, but this one always throws people. You're in the middle of something really hard. You're having a conversation around equity or conflict or failure in leadership, and suddenly someone cracks a joke. You can feel the tension in the room soften. The room exhales. It's not avoidance. It's actually just release. It means the group just hit a level of honesty that needed a pressure valve, and someone recognized it.
I let it happen. I even smile. I sometimes egg on the person who made the joke. Then once the laughter fades, I say something like, “That laugh felt like relief. What truth did we just touch there?” It's tender and it's human and it's real. Humor shows me that the group is alive in the work, and they're not just performing alignment.
Number six: a strong “no”.
I love a strong no. Love, love, love it. It means someone cares enough to draw a boundary. That passion is showing up as protection. In group work, we often mistake disagreement for defiance, but most times “no’s” are actually, “I need to know that this will be safe if we do this”, or “I've seen this go wrong before, and I'm nervous when I hear that.”
I don't push back. I slow down and I ask, “what is the yes behind that no?” That question surfaces values, not just opinions. Strong opposition usually means that something worth protecting is in play. And when we name that thing, then collaboration can become honest.
Number seven: the unexpected silence.
You ask a question, and the room goes quiet. Every instinct in you tells you to fill it, but that's the worst thing that you could do as a facilitator. Silence means the question landed. People are thinking they're not frozen. I count to 10 in my head, sometimes longer, and that's really hard to do. But if you wait, you watch the silence shift from tension to reflection, then someone will speak, and it's usually deeper, truer, and braver than before. Sometimes it's even that quiet person we mentioned earlier.
Holding silence is one of the hardest facilitator skills to get, but it's also one of the most sacred.
Number eight is my favorite moment. It's the whispers after a big question.
You've asked something bold, something about power or trust or money or race, and instead of answering, the room just hums quietly.
People are whispering. There's some nervous energy, and that's the edge. That's where transformation lives. They're testing if it's safe to go there. My job is to hold steady, not to rush, not to rescue, just to own the presence of the moment. When someone finally speaks, it's like the air changes. That's not just a shift in conversation, that's a shift in the room's courage, and that is very special.
These moments used to really scare me, but now I look for them and I'm eager to see them. They're actually the pulse of the real work that's done. Facilitation seems like it might be about gathering everyone's notes and keeping everyone on time and making sure that the projector is running just well and making sure that all of your slides are beautiful, but it's not, it's not most of those things.
Really, it's about guiding people through that messy middle with enough trust, curiosity, and structure to find what's next. So when the room gets tense or quiet or uncomfortable, that's my cue to lean in. The shift is already happening. We just have to ride the wave.
Thanks for listening to Between the Leaves. If this episode resonated with you, please share it with a colleague who leads hard conversations, or maybe needs to have one with their own team. And if your team is facing one of those scary moments right now, reach out. That's where I do my best work. We'll see you next time.
Ellie Scott is the founder and chief strategist of Bayleaf Consulting, where she helps nonprofit leaders, boards, and executive teams get on the same page when the stakes are high and time is short. She brings process and clarity to hard conversations so teams can move from tension into alignment and action.
