Tag: ReflectivePractice

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Field notes from chaos

(This is another archive post from September 2024 — re-reading it, I realise there’s potential to create a new pattern book motif on chaos, how we work with it, and how we might reduce it for others).

The wind was getting up. The waves were starting to blow in from different directions. The sea scape seemed to be changing at random. The day before, the waves had been rolling in with a nice rhythm.

This is another blog post that comes from the sea. And this one is about chaos. One characteristic of chaotic systems is the rules of the system keep changing. And this seemed to be what was happening around me. The wind was gusting from different directions, the tide was turning, the sun was coming in and out from behind clouds. And all of this was making a chaotic mess of the surface of the water.

Standing there trying to figure out what was going on I started to think about ways of coping with chaos. Think of these as working notes rather than a developed theory. 

Get into the field – the sea looked messy from the shore but only in the water could I really feel how changeable it was. 

The signal in the noise – there can be a lot of randomness but are there underlying patterns. There did seem to be a beat of waves heading in to the shore, confused by another set rolling in from the side. When you find a pattern in the system it is easier to work with. 

Notice when the pattern ends – the rules of chaotic systems change. A pattern in the system is only useful as long as it persists. Look out for the pattern changing. 

Think on your feet – you can’t rely on the normal patterns of working (see yesterday’s post on creating cycles in work). Instead you have to make the most of the situation you are in. 

Learning is difficult – if learning relies on loops of action and reflection, then learning is much harder when the conditions keep changing.

Chaos is tiring – if you are constantly on alert trying to figure out what is going on then you are not getting time to rest and recuperate. 

Writing these notes up I am left wondering:

  • How can we support ourselves, other people and organisations when they enter into periods of chaos?
  • How might our own actions, behaviours and design decisions cause chaos for others?
  • How might we design for increasing chaos as climate breakdown rolls on?

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Ripe learning opportunities from moments of transition 

Transitions are ripe moments for reflection on action.

When we’re in the flow of delivery, we rarely have the chance to pause and ask what we’re really doing or why. But transitions — a change of job, a shift in funding, or simply the end of a project — give us the opportunity.

Creating change means pushing, pulling or nudging outcomes away from their default path toward an intentional one. But while we’re in the thick of delivery, it’s easy for intentions to get blurred, or dropped altogether.

So when we pop out the other side of a period of work, it’s worth asking: what was I really trying to do, and what actually happened?

  • Here are some questions I use to harvest learning at the end of a project:
  • What did I set out to do? Even if you can’t fully recall, try to write it down.
  • What did I actually do? Not just the deliverables — think about the journey: the conversations, obstacles, and detours.
  • What were the consequences — intended and unintended? In complex systems, surprises are inevitable.
  • What advice would I give someone else setting out on the same journey? You can’t repeat the past, but someone else can build on it.

These lessons are easily lost. Once we move on, the window for reflection closes quickly. So take the time to harvest the fruits of transition while they’re still ripe.

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Cabin in the woods (a preview)

Tucked between Douglas Fir and regenerating birch, there’s a small green oak cabin at Hazel Hill Wood. From its windows and door, all you can see is woodland. 

The cabin was gifted to the Trust by our founder, Alan Heeks, and yesterday I worked with a group of volunteers to give it a spring clean. We’re hoping to bring it back to life — maybe as a writer’s cabin, maybe a solo retreat space.

I can vouch for it as a place to write. This is where I drafted the Critical Thinking training for Useful Simple Trust (some of which made it into the Pattern Book for Regenerative Design). It is also where I have written many blog posts. 

In time, I’d love to see team leaders or designers using the space — staying a night or two and putting their plans through a series of regenerative prompts. And they might not even need the prompts, as the wood seems to ask questions of you the more time you spend there. 

The cabin still needs a few upgrades, and we’re thinking of launching a crowdfunder to help make it happen. If a solo professional retreat in the woods sounds like your kind of thing, let me know.

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Horizon One Highway

In the Three Horizons model, Horizon One is the world that surrounds us — the one that grabs our attention, dominates our habits, and shapes our worldview.

Because it fills our field of vision, Horizon One obscures our view of possible alternative futures. 

Earlier this week I wrote about cognitive ease — the brain’s tendency to favour familiar options over ones that require more thinking effort. It’s the easy option of taking the familiar path, rather than the harder work of beating a new one. 

Horizons One is the beaten path. It’s the default route; the easy path.

But if we want to move towards a thriving future — one in which our work as designers and builders actually creates life and strengthens our communities and ecosystems — we need to beat a different path. And we need to do it every day. 

That takes effort and resourcing. 

We need time to reflect. We need time to rest. We need space to notice is what is missing and to dream about what is possible. 

And we need the nourishment of living things and the nourishment of community. 

Resourcing ourselves can help us resist the daily pull of the familiar. And we can keep searching for paths towards more thriving futures, even when walking down the Horizon One Highway looks like the much easier route. 

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Decide to remember or decide to forget

When we make decisions in complex scenarios, we can never be certain how they will work out. But every decision is an opportunity to test our thinking and to see how the system responds.

Every decision is a learning opportunity. Each is a chance to learn what happens when I make a decision based on certain factors rather than others.

But only if we decide to remember. 

That means writing down why we did what we did — and remembering to look back the next time we’re making a similar decision.