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Fluorescent creativity

Fluorescent colours look brighter than the colours around them. That’s because fluorescent materials absorb light from the ultraviolet spectrum — which we can’t see — and re-emit it in the visible spectrum.

So while regular colours just reflect light from the part of the spectrum we can see, fluorescent colours borrow light from an unseen realm and shine it back at a frequency we can perceive.

The term highlight feels apt — they really do seem to hold more light.

And it gave me an idea: fluorescent creativity — the kind that brings in ideas from spectra that others on the design team can’t yet see, and makes them visible for the rest of us.

These ideas can shine brighter than anything we’ve encountered before, not because they’re louder, but because they carry energy from unexpected places.

Fluorescent creativity speaks to inviting in different perspectives, and tuning our own sensors into frequencies we hadn’t previously explored.

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Our new online intro to regenerative design launches in November

Here’s my pitch:

Interested in regenerative design?
Are you — or your colleagues — wondering how to introduce regenerative thinking on a live project?
Would a short course help build clarity and confidence, and give you a few practical tools to get started?

Would you like to sign up to Seeing the System, our new short online introduction to regenerative design, starting 12 November?

See what I did? It’s a classic ‘yes spiral’. One from the basic toolkit of advertising. But what this course aims to give you is a different toolkit: the basic tools of regenerative design.

Over four two-hour sessions, we’ll explore the core tools from our regenerative design toolkit. As you’d expect, the course will be delivered in our usual, engaging style — with space for reflection, peer learning, and short practical tasks between sessions to help apply the ideas to real work.

Seeing the System is part of our plan to grow how we teach regenerative design. Alongside the Regenerative Design Lab, this short online format offers a gentler starting point — ideal for those who want to explore the ideas without committing to the full Lab experience.

Are you sold?

Register here
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The annoying things about hammocks — three design principles from the second law of thermodynamics

The annoying thing about hammocks is that they obey the second law of thermodynamics. However big an initial shove you give them, they always come to a standstill. The swing’s energy is dissipated through air resistance and friction in the ropes.

That’s irritating if, like me, you enjoy a nap in a gently rocking hammock. But it’s also instructive: the hammock is a perfect metaphor for the second law.

The law says that a system will naturally move to its lowest free energy state. You already know this from the hammock: it comes to rest when all the energy available to keep it moving has been used up. If there were energy left, it would still be swinging.

Since this law is the way the universe goes, it is helpful to try to design with it rather than against it. 

Three modes of design from the second law of thermodynamics

1 – Design for resting equilibrium — no energy cost

  • Design the system’s natural resting state so that it is also the useful one. 
  • For example, put the pond at the bottom of the hill so that it fills itself.

2 – Intercept the flows — medium energy cost

  • Catch free energy while it’s on the move. This takes some organisational effort but can be minimal. 
  • For example, run the water through a turbine on its way downhill to the pond. The water is heading that way anyway, so can we use it?

3 – Fight the flow — high energy cost

  • Push the system in the opposite direction of free energy dispersal. This takes work to create and maintain, creating fragility. 
  • For example, pumping the water uphill, and storing it there for later use. 

The further down this list we go, the more energy we need. 

Life as the free energy interceptor

In the living world, physical processes, powered by the sun, the motion of the planet and moon, and heat from the earth, put the work into raise the energy level of the systems that surround us: evaporating water to create rain, driving tides in and out of our shores, heating the air to drive winds and raining radiation on the Earth’s surface. 

Life intercepts this free energy on its way down hill; on its journey from concentrated to spread out. This is the principle upon which whole cascade of life depend, from the processes driven by ion imbalances across cell membranes, to the multitude of species supported on a wooded slope as the intercepted water slowly makes its way downhill.

Where is regenerative design in all of this?

The goal of regenerative design for is for humans and the living world to survive, thrive and co-evolve. The living world thrives by catching energy as flows downhill, cycling it through a multitude of interlocking systems and lifeforms. To co-evolve and thrive we need to get involved with this dance. Rather than burning energy to fight the flow, we should be looking for where we can lean into, and even strengthen this life-giving process of harnessing these energy gradients. 

Where to hang the hammock

All of that thus resolved,  the only remaining question is where to hang the hammock. 

I would say, halfway down the hill, where the sound of the waterfall would send me to sleep. And I could dream about creating an ingenious mechanism for rocking the hammock powered by the falling water. 

—

This post was inspired in part by a working diagram Chris Wise showed me how should be designing for equilibrium. I’ll share more when Chris publishes it. And also by lectures on thermodynamics from Peter Atkins, many lunar cycles ago.

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On a new term and the Three Horizons pencil case

Diagram of the Three Horizons model with three overlapping curves labeled H1 (red), H2 (blue), and H3 (yellow), showing how different patterns rise and fall over time.

It is hard to escape the idea that September is a new year. It’s a time for new stationery and new intentions.

But when resolutions for the year ahead crop up, the Three Horizons reminds me that what appears new was set in motion a long time ago, what is current will not last and what we do now sets the seeds for the future.

There is in fact very little that can be decided now; that can be implemented suddenly from here on. To do so is to shock the system. It can look effective but it can cause hidden stresses as things bend to your will. Often we can only sustain this pull into the opposite direction until the yoke of the system pulls you back in its direction.

What the Three Horizons shows us is that in fact everything is in flow. What’s better is to work with the currents of change, to notice trends, to know your destination and to seek to steer things in that direction over time.

In the Three Horizons pencil case, 

  • The red pen is for what is current that will decline. In the season ahead, some things will give way. These are things that may have run their course or that have become unstable. 
  • The blue pen is for the incoming — that which is taking the place of what is in decline. It is recognisable but it is different; it has been growing for some time; and it is distinct in some way that makes it more suited to the year ahead. 
  • And the yellow pen is for what we are planting now and what is slowly awakening that will take the stage next. 

In every new season, we can see the red pen that’s beginning to run out of ink, the blue pen getting to flow and the yellow pen beginning to make its mark.

The work of change is daily work — not a single decision on the eve of a new cycle but an ongoing act of noticing what’s in decline, what’s emerging and thinking about where to make your mark.

Diagram of the Three Horizons model with three overlapping curves labeled H1 (red), H2 (blue), and H3 (yellow), showing how different patterns rise and fall over time.

Check out the Three Horizons in our new Tools for Regenerative Design page.

Take me there

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Letting things done

Anyone into productivity books will probably be familiar with the classic Getting Things Done by David Allen. It’s a book title that transcends the book —it becomes a value system. Done things are good things. Undone = unorganised.

So here are three alternative work modes I’ve been playing with:

Letting things done

This mode is for going with the flow — doing what needs doing in the moment. It’s a way of working that responds to feedback from your environment, especially your connection with others. It is about noticing what signals say more of this and less of that.

Doing things fun

This mode is the of energy flow. When things are enjoyable, it mysteriously unlocks hidden energy. ‘In every job that must be done, there’s an element of fun, you fine the fun and… the job’s a game’, or so said productivity consultant Mary Poppins.

Letting things go

This mode is for the work of relinquishing control. It is letting something go. It is exchanging with others. It is opening the work up to reciprocity. You have to breathe out in order to breathe in again. It’s the same with plans and ideas.

So we have:

  • Getting things done
  • Letting things done
  • Doing things fun
  • Letting things go.

Whereas getting things done signals our intent to exert our will, the other three signal working with interconnection, following available energy and emergent potential. It’s a nice map onto the Living Systems Blueprint:

  • Interconnection (letting things done)
  • Symbiosis (doing things fun)
  • Capacity to change (lettings things go)

As far as we are aware, humans are the only species that produce productivity text books. The other species just to seem to get on with it, using the resources available to them to live in harmony. Now, that’s the productivity book I want to read.

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Can I have your attention?

The default answer ought to be no.

Because your attention is one of your most precious resources.

Attention is how we experience life.

It’s what we attend to, moment by moment, in our waking hours.

It is the focal point of our thinking.

I was recently in a workshop led by Holly Stoppit, where she shared a metaphor I’ve been turning over since:

Attention is like a little bird.

It flits around, always looking, always alert.

If we want to look after our attention, we need to give it a safe place to land.

The trouble is, there’s fierce competition to trap our little bird of attention.

And when there’s money to be made by landing it, no wonder we are surrounded by very attractive perches that call out ‘land here’.

Of course, there are places where we want our attention to land:

on a loved one 

on a problem we’re chewing over,

on an idea we’ve had

or simply on something right in front of us that we’ve never noticed before.

Our attention is precious.

People don’t always ask before they take it.

But it is always yours to give.

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Use the water on its way downhill

Use the water on its way downhill

Gather the feedback before everyone leaves.

Capture the waste heat before it disappears up the exhaust.

Better to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

Hold the nutrients back before they are washed away down the mountainside 

Learn the lesson straightaway 

Reuse before you recycle

Sort it on the doorstep rather than at the dump.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush

When in doubt take the high road.

You can’t stop the waves but you can surf them.

When something concentrated disperses, it loses its potential. Dispersal is inevitable. The skill in regenerative design is to catch the potential on its way down, and cycle it into new life before it’s gone

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On packing cubes and better fit

Fold everything up and put it straight in the bag? Or fold everything into packing cubes first, then put these in?

Not an important dilemma — but useful for thinking about utility and fit.

Packing cubes make it easier to find your stuff. That’s a win for utility. But they make it harder to use space efficiently. That’s a loss of fit.

When you pack directly into the case, clothes can mould to the contours of the bag. With cubes, you’re first fitting clothes into rigid boxes, then trying to fit those boxes into the bag. The bigger the chunks, the less well they fit.

Even cubes designed for your bag add extra cell walls. It’s more work to get everything in.

Why does this matter? Because it’s all about equilibrium. The more options a system has, the better it can settle into a state that fits its surroundings.

Of course, both bags — with cubes and without — are at equilibrium once zipped. But cubes trap the system in a constrained equilibrium: ordered, but with wasted potential (unused space). Without cubes, the system has more freedom to find a messier equilibrium that actually fits better.

And there’s entropy at play: to keep clothes in neat cubes takes extra work. Left free, they tumble into arrangements that fit themselves.

From a regenerative point of view, sometimes it’s worth adding structure — boundaries, hierarchies, rules — to make a system function. But structure always reduces adaptability. Keeping a system in a fixed order takes work, and wastes some of its potential to respond.

So the design question is: when is it worth doing the work to hold things in order, and when is it better to let the system find a looser, but better-fitting arrangement?

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The Entropy Bus

When strangers get on a bus, they almost always spread out. Few people sit next to each other unless they really have to.

Partly that’s social norms. And partly it’s probability — and entropy is the name we give to it: the measure of how many possible configurations a system can take.

The social rules push people apart, but entropy makes the scattered state the most likely outcome.

You could put an extra conductor on the bus to tell people where to sit, filling rows neatly from the front. But that takes energy. Take the conductor away, and inevitably everyone spreads out again.

The lesson of the entropy bus is that order is costly, disorder is cheap — and dispersal from order to disorder creates a flow.

The art of regenerative design is to shape systems so that the most likely outcome, and the flow in that direction is also the most life-giving.