Letters to the Earth: part 1 — A Regenerative Learning Journey.
N.b. This series includes topics that may be sensitive including depression, leadership development, pain, and suicide. Please be kind to yourself in deciding whether to engage with this work. Please reach out to the appropriate (medical) help that is available in your place if you need it.
“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Dear Earth,
I feel the strong urge to apologize, for I have not written to you in a while. Indeed, even in my quiet contemplative moments, I have not been very grateful lately. I hope you will forgive me and know that deep down, I love you. I hope you can forgive me, as I was, as Rilke would say ‘battling dragons’. The particular dragon I was battling is one that many around the world are facing, by some estimates up to a billion people struggle with this dragon. The dragon I was clinching with was depression. I am happy to share that, at least for now, I seem to be coming out of this fight and being able to write to you again, with care and love, is a strong expression of that status. I also feel very aware that it is likely not the last time this particular dragon and I will face off. Indeed, it’s also not been the first time.
I have not written much lately, let alone to the Earth. The truth is that when I face this particular dragon, I feel even more isolated from the planet than I normally do. Normally, I struggle more with connecting with other humans and less so with the mountains, winds, creeks, and other living things around me. I, truly, usually, live with a relational worldview that sees ‘me’ as a temporary expression of life. That sees ‘me’ as a multitude, a multiplicity of relationships and interconnections of land and life, human and more-than-human coalescing into ‘me-ness’. Which perhaps may be nothing more than an illusion indeed. It was, I would say, this deep-lived entanglement with the world, that made the dragon I had to come to grips with clear for me.
‘‘Fairy tales are more than true not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten’ — Neil Gaiman’
As I was sitting on top of a mountain in the Arctic Norway, the very same that I now have tattooed on my forearm, where I realized I was lost.
A singular moment of overwhelming nothingness, of being-less, of not being as an ‘I’ but only existing as the world, made me see how far I had sunk into numbness. This moment occured after a particular difficult climb, as I sat down in the sunny Nordic summer and felt the rays of light warm my skin. In front of me was a view of majestic beauty, empty fjords and towering snow-capped peaks all in front of me.
In psychological terms, I was later diagnosed as going through a spell of clinical depression with ‘passive suicidal ideations’ which means as much as ‘You aren’t actively planning to end your life, but you do see scenarios in which you don’t mind if it happened.’ This also extended itself to frequent considerations of leaping of heights, or stepping in front of moving vehicles like trains. So, it’s been a while since I have written much. And much of what I have created or written in the meantime has been aimed towards my personal healing. For my healing and that of the planet are intertwined, I cannot be of service to the Earth if I am no longer able to be in service. For this lapse in my writing, I gently ask forgiveness and understanding from you, Earth. There is great privilege in being (alive). As I continue to step forward into the abyss of what’s next, I hope to (re)learn to live more fully on, as, and with this beautiful planet. In this series of letters to the Earth, our collective home, I will attempt to unravel, unwind, and dance with my regenerative intent with(in) education(al systems).
So, in this series, I invite you, the reader, along for that ride. To unravel together some of the challenges and highlights of stepping into a new phase of my time dwelling on this beautiful place. Some of the stops along our path may be hard. Others will be filled with beauty and light. I have long argued that walking the regenerative path is not only about happiness, lightness, and all things sugar and spice. A cultural force towards being happy and optimistic in my Dutchness fuelling this further. Indeed, one of the sentences that has stayed with me most strongly the last year has been that regeneration can be seen as ‘transforming pain into potential’. As someone who lives with chronic physical pain, with the occasional spell of mental anguish, I resonate with this perspective very strongly. I would even say that to some extent, it is the source from which I draw much of my own energy to be able to stay with this work. If I do not have the capacity of transforming pain into potential I am not sure I would bother to stay in service so to say.
So, let’s start my letter with that moment of Earthfulness which fully grabbed me.
Earthfulness is a term that I first encountered through the Earthfulness Institute and has been developed by individuals and scholars connected to Radboud University Nijmegen. I explore the term as our capacity and practices of continuous (re)connection with nature within and around us.
It was the summer of 2023 when I was visiting Norway for some much needed time in Nature and the wild. I was there first with a close friend, and then with my sister in two separate trips over 5 weeks. We didn’t really have a set out course or agenda, we just went where we wanted to go, climbed, hiked, kayaked, and importantly, ignored e-mail and the digital reality I normally live in. This trip was only a few months after I had defended my PhD in Designing Regenerative Higher Education at Wageningen University & Research. I remember feeling kind of empty the day after the defense, but figured it was just because of my workload (being an external PhD candidate there was plenty of other stuff to do than simply to celebrate and enjoy). I realized later that this feeling is not unique to me, but quite common when you work towards something big and then enter a sense of being lost once it has been achieved. Nor, did I completely not know something was wrong before that date, I had previously discussed feeling off with close mentors. Swept away by the daily requirements of the multitude of jobs that were expected of me, I buried those feelings deep.
But the reason I entered my valley with the dragon was not just the finishing of a big thing. I did my PhD in a little under 3 years, which for The Netherlands is quite fast, while holding other jobs. While publishing a popular science book. While living with a chronic pain condition, and while being confronted with the worsening climate, biodiversity and ecological climate daily in my professional life. I had been running on empty for a while without fully realizing it. It took my physically being somewhere else as well as the mirror of someone I trusted to be able to truly see and feel what was going on. Ironically, the last time I fought off this dragon something similar happened, as it was in 2017 when I just moved away for my masters to Scotland and finally had physical and emotional space before I could feel the strong jaws of the dragon around me. So, it wasn’t till Norway that I realized something was wrong more deeply. Two moments of that trip are particularly relevant for this letter to you Earth. Not as an apology but to provide how your beauty and wisdom illuminated where I needed to work on.
- When we were hiking, in the wilderness, with nothing around us but the occasional sheep and loads of lichen. And the ever-present rains, which even in summer, are inescapable in Norway. My friend said ‘it looks like you belong in the landscape here’ after several hours of walking around. That deeply moved me as it highlighted how disconnected I have felt from the land(scape) the last years. But also, disconnected from myself.
- Later, in the Arctic circle I cycled across one of the many Lofoten islands to climb a mountain. There was nothing particularly important about this mountain, it didn’t even have ‘name’. Although, perhaps if I had asked the mountain it may have said what it was. There was something about this mountain that called me. I later learned that one of the viewpoints from the top was locally called ‘the Bay of the Gods’. The way it protruded out of the arctic ocean, the small amount of woods that attempted to cling on with all its mighty roots. Perhaps it was just fate that day. As an avid cyclist, I was shocked by how hard it was to cycle in this hilly and mountainous terrain. As my breathing and heart rate very quickly exploded and I needed to take multiple breaks to make it to the foot. But I did, and I climbed it. Too focussed on reaching the top to slow down and to what Nan Shepherd would say ‘be with the mountains’. Once I made it and a wee snack I sat down and looked at the bay below me. As I did so I burst out in tears, the first time in many years, including the funerals of more than one grandparent. Living with chronic pain either toughens or breaks you, or so I thought back then. As I sat there, I was suddenly rushed with the profound numbness that accompanies the dragon of depression. There I was, a fresh doctor, good job, relatively healthy, on top of an arctic mountain, crying my eyeballs out. It is there when the thought passed that it would be fine if on the way down, some of my equipment malfunctioned and I would slip and fall until I was no more. It was in that moment I realized I was not okay and needed help.
This poem was inspired by that experience:
Serene Mists
To stand above an abyss; to feel perfect bliss.
To stand at the edge; of life and death.
What is the catch?
To be and feel nothing; yet alive.
No love, belonging, or wrath.
To be engulfed in cold mist.
feeling whole, no rifts.
To glide over crystal clear blues.
Towering misty mountains, powerful and cold.
They feel like extensions; mighty and old.
Transcending boundaries between body and Earth.
Part of the landscape; here I am.
To peer over this edge is odd.
Encountering oneself in rock, stone, water, mist.
To be a single moment; frozen in time.
Beyond thought or feeling.
Can I make this climb?
To be at a moment’s edge.
I hope it is not my last.
A singular moment; overwhelming nothingness.
No calamity, only serenity.
The cold mist; warm embrace.
Part of the landscape; here I am.
To be free from pain.
Tears running down my face.
Or is it just rain?
- July 2023
During the last few months, I have been able to seek treatment and support from some amazing people around me. Including a close group of friends through many dungeon and dragon sessions, my partner who is amazing and makes lovely pumpkin-tofu-oat pancakes for us to enjoy and who is crazy enough to join me in several upcoming obstacle runs. As well as thoughtful and supportive colleagues, family, and professionals. Through these months of fighting dragons, I leaned heavily on them all, as well as physical movement, which is a cornerstone in my life and my educational approach. For months, I moved for several hours each day while listening to podcasts, music, and audiobooks as part of my recovery. I realized a degree of physical challenge was missing from my life and am currently preparing for several races including a 100 km nature challenge in June and a sprint triathlon. And have made drastic shifts in how I organize my educational work, placing movement much more at the center of sessions I host for teachers or students.
I am deeply grateful for my treatment team and my tribe for the support they have shown in this period in my healing journey. And I am glad to say I feel much better. Indeed, I now feel for the most part again, that I am of this world. On my daily walks in nature, I can experience the winds, rains, sun, dirt, plants and birds. I even hear them all sing again. Especially the birds, who sing so beautifully as spring arrives. There is also a surge in creative energy both professionally, and personally, in the ability to (re)write again. I’ll tell you a bit more about that soon Gaia. I promise.
During this time, I also got the incredible privilege of picking up a new mantle, becoming as far as I know the youngest (associate) professor (of practice) in Dutch history. Or I should say, getting the opportunity to serve, you, Earth, from this new role. As I do not wish to conflate who I am with what I do. I now, serve you and those around me from this systemic position, but it is not the core of who I am. A role I have been leaning into now for about a month. Even though I have known and worked with many others in similar positions over the years, it has still been very interesting to step into this role. I have seen dozens of others step into such roles, each of them finding their own unique expressions of how to serve. While I am sure that stepping into that process is something that never truly ends, I feel very much like I am only just wading into the water. The truth is, the expectations from the university are heavy, too heavy for any individual to do well across the board. I am finding a path that works for me, and I am stumbling along the way. But that is okay. It’s expected challenges as well as new ones I did not expect to make my working life, mostly, very interesting at the moment.
The research group that I am now nourishing into maturity is called Learning for Regeneration and focuses on the capacities, abilities, and stories that allow us to redesign the human presence on the Earth (see Designing Regenerative Cultures by Daniel Wahl, 2016). Perhaps, the group’s name will co-evolve as we mature together. But for now, it is a little seedling over which I feel very protective. With the group, we have a particular focus on educational systems, but may end up looking at learning across the healthspan. Leading a research group, that still needs to mature as I mature along with it, comes with a set of expectations that are not always the most regenerative. For myself, for those in the group, or the world. It is a tension that feels quite like walking on a tightrope of being in balance with my own regenerative commitments and meeting the expectations of what the educational system asks of me. A few lessons are already emerging, which I describe in my detail below. I am sure that this series of letters will be quite a transformative journey as I step forward out of the valley and into the mist. I experienced this step deeply in two separate imaging moments guided by amazing colleagues and friends. We were doing an imaging of our personal will-being-function in the form of our core purpose, process, and practices in our service for the Earth with about 3 months in between the two sessions. The first session, I couldn’t image, it was just dark and numbness. The second time, some gentle imaging occurred.
Picking up the mantle of nourishing a research group as an act of service towards the Earth comes with profound changes to my professional role and response-abilities. Chief among them is a personal moving from primarily executing to mostly facilitating. Nurturing and nourishing the conditions for those who serve in my team to engage with work that hopefully, makes their heart sing. And that may regenerate the educational system of which we are part. I may provide brief updates of their work in this series as we go on when doing so seems appropriate. Also, the move requires me to think much more strategically about what I do and perhaps more importantly what I do not do. Especially as I only embody this mantle for 3 days a week (there are some super exciting movements about co-launching a school for regenerative educators that I look forward to sharing more about soon) and it is very easy to work much more than that. However, I would not expect those working with me to work for free, or work too much, yet it is very easy to expect that from myself. I also face challenges with helping those who join me in this group in their becoming of researchers and learning when to step forward and when to shine a spotlight on them. It is indeed, quite difficult to decide when to embody an active pedagogy of inaction.
The following represent some of the emerging insights and challenges I have faced so far.
- Age discrimination
‘How old are you?’ I don’t think I have been asked this question as often in my life. To be fair, I am quite literally the youngest person that carries this position, at least as far as I know. But I have been asked that question more times than I can count on my hands the last month. Often, it is done in genuine surprise and healthy admiration. But it’s also happened when people hear me being introduced as a guest speaker or facilitator based on titles and visibly change their behavior when they see my age. It is interesting how such unwritten expectations can change the vibe of a space like that. It’s also not necessarily an experience that is not foreign to me. I was 21 when I started lecturing at a university and for many years, whenever I went to a faculty office to ask for something, they’d tell me I needed a teacher for whatever supplies I was asking for. Perhaps older colleagues just think ‘oh don’t whine, you’ll miss it when you're old and gray’. Perhaps they are right. At the same time, I have to sometimes fight to be taken seriously. Or at least, that is a path that I can walk in navigating this. Perhaps a more regenerative path is not to lean into a reactionary movement, but to just accept that some people cannot look beyond age and that holds no bearing on me. To accept it as a fact of life and move on. I am curious to experience if and how this unravels moving forward.
2. Emerging research agenda
Having started with the new role I hold for now. I have set out to establish a multi-year research agenda. A collection of two or three big themes which I will focus my energies on for the next 4–5 years. For multiple reasons, one it’s a bit of what is expected when one sets out a new research line. It is customary in The Netherlands that new groups get about a year to establish the outlines of such an agenda. Of course, I have been thinking about one for much longer than that. In part, due to strategic lessons that I have learned from great mentors like prof. dr. Kim Poldner and prof. dr. ir. Christine de Lille, working from desirable futures backward is a way of life for me. I think the triquetra of regenerative moving through systems is what has been guiding me unconsciously in this endeavor. Exploring what research is coming forth from my inner being, what the world (including the dwellers) around me is asking of me, and the potential of the places I am embedded and connected with.
It has actually been quite difficult to engage with this process. Not so much because I do not have enough ideas, but to properly open myself up to a co-creative process with those in my team, the others that have a say like educational programs, and balancing my own long-term life goals with what is asked from the current system in which I am entangled. The temptation is to lock myself up and write a first draft of an agenda and perhaps present that for feedback to a select group and sending that into the world. Making it in a way, a show about me, instead of an act of service towards the Earth and those around me. It is a very conscious choice not to engage with this process in such an ego-driven way. I am not sure if that is because I am (too) convinced of my own righteousness or because it is just very easy to follow the status quo and the well-trodden paths. Or if I just have a strong drive to organize a large public event to share ‘my vision’. And if I do, whether that is fueled by my own ego, or inspired as an act of service to the broader regenerative movement and bringing that a collective step further through me.
So, I am not actively opening up the process, initially to those around me who have joined forces and are working with the group. As well as long-term academic partners in a variety of institutions. This also implies that I leave more of the agenda open to future emergence than I would necessarily want to. This creates an interesting tension between being convinced that such long-term planning is an obsolete exercise anyway and a desire for clarity. A lived sense of struggling with letting go. So, there I am now, working with others to set out the broad scope of what the group’s identity and purpose will be(come) while holding space for the emergence of projects and new insights. I don’t know yet how this will unravel but it has at least, revealed three emerging fields that we will be collectively exploring.
- Regenerating Earthfulness: Our capacity to engage with daily practices of relating with(in) (our)nature all around us.
- Regenerative Ancestorship: Moving Regeneratively with(in) (Educational) Systems.
- (Re)generative Storying: (Re)telling stories of regeneration as well as regenerative stories.
Each of these fields is currently being explored by one or more researchers. I am very excited to share the initial expressions of these lines. Currently, one of the members is exploring the regenerative potential of a large project with 82 students connecting to local transition challenges. Conducting a collective autoethnography with the students and himself through audio interviews of their collective experiences.
Another is focussing on nature-inclusive educating, with a national collective of organizations and changemakers exploring the principles and practices of leading educationalists in a wide cross-section of Dutch education. It is super cool, next month, they are going to start visiting 12–15 schools that are already engaging with nature-inclusive education to co-create audiodocumentaries. These documentaries will serve as a basis to further conceptualize what we mean by nature-inclusion. And we are exploring this from primary through university education. In addition, an external PhD is starting soon that will focus on connecting nature and regenerative leadership in a business school. I am super excited to help in their mentoring, as I expect I will also learn a lot about myself. Not only will I learn much about the content, but probably more importantly about how I can be regenerative as a mentor of the next generation.
Lastly, there is energy bubbling to the service in the realm of leadership for regeneration. In particular, exploring the role of pain and hope in navigating complex transition challenges. Two members of the team are making their first exploratory steps in preparing the type of stories and questions they would like to gather.
For all of these, there is an undertone, beneath the proverbial surface, of my own longer term lifegoals. While I now feel much better than I did last summer, the ‘you look like you belong in the landscape here’ remark has resonated strongly. I feel a strong urge to emigrate to a place that is more rich in nature and mountains. And am actively exploring pathways to make that happen. One of my old academic mentors for example, has a dual role in The Netherlands and Norway, where they split their time roughly 10 months in the former and two months in the latter. A similar construct but in reverse is something that pulls on me strongly. It is also an area of tension, as part of the decisions and projects I am now developing are informed by this long-term personal desire. To maintain my own health, to regenerate my own soul, to live closer with(in) nature.
3. A loving and learning team
I have the incredible privilege of starting my embodiment of the new role with a small, but loving team. I have told the members that one of my intentions is that I want to help them deploy projects and work ‘which makes their heart sing’. So far, we seem to be heading in the right direction for some nice tunes. I am also trying actively to bring in some of the regenerative principles into how we are as a team. For example, the way we collaborate is an ongoing co-creative process of setting the rules and context. We tend to meet outside whenever possible and see the purpose of our get-togethers as resourcing ourselves and each other. It has been interesting and heart-warming to experience some of the small things that I would like to see as early signs of success in this regard. From female members feeling comfortable and natural to discuss their periods when it affects them (and men not being weirded out by it). To individual members sharing with me that the thought they can chat with me about their projects and difficulties when they are overwhelmed is a calming one. Or the comfort they feel in helping me — by telling me I need to do less. That I am again working on days I shouldn’t be. Or saying ‘yes’ too often. I have written previously about how difficult it is for me to accept when I have done enough. And how easy it is for me to go so far in work that I lose myself in it entirely. So, I am very grateful when they tell me I need to do less, to let go.
At the same time, the majority of the members are very new to research, and helping them develop their own abilities and capacities is both a blessing and in a way a curse. It would have been a lot easier if there were more experienced members who could for example share the load of applying for grants. Or who had more methodological training. It is, however, the mantle I chose to pick up. To help these initial members in their scholarly becoming. It also prevents a tension that is very familiar to me as a regenerative educator. The difficulty of embodying a pedagogy of purposeful inaction. Often, I wonder when I see them making certain (methodological) moves, whether I should step in. Or if the educational moment lies in them experiencing difficulties that I may see ahead. A tension of ‘am I deriving them from an educational moment by steering now?’ has to be in balance with ‘what can be avoided that doesn’t require them experientially learning?’ It is not an easy line to walk, especially as I, like many educators I reckon, tend to lean towards actively stepping in. I am learning, once again, that simply holding the space, and letting some things occur while being ready to catch and help redirect them when needed, is sometimes the more appropriate and loving path. Sometimes, I worry I am not stepping in because it is also easy for me to focus on other things that may be pressing on my attention (like an e-mail box that explodes, a master’s I am co-developing or working on subsidy grants). But I am truly deeply grateful for those crazy and loving people who are joining me in this adventure. It is a privilege to be able to walk with them as they go out on their own regenerative adventures.
The last team get together the previous week exemplifies in a way the direction and culture we are moving towards together. We had a room inside the campus but the sun was shining, so we quickly went outside. The first half of the session, we sat on a bench and had lunch, while one of the members shared their progress and challenges with the project they were exploring. The others listened and acted as a collective resource by asking guided questions to further deepen the sharer’s perspectives. Subsequently, we split up in duo’s and trio’s and went on resourcing walks, where each person shared about their (upcoming) projects for 10–15 minutes while the others listened attentively and asked similar questions. We were able to combine energy-giving sunlight, good nourishment, community, and meaningful conversation together in a developmental way. While also reducing the workload on me to ‘carry’ the session. Spontaneously, one of the members offered to take over the sharing next time and to facilitate. I try to, whenever I work with my team, to take the time to be truly present for and with them. Their stepping up helps me in doing that. I hope we can hold on to and further nurture that energy together.
4. A lived pressure of performing and difficulty of gifting myself the time required for slow meaningful work.
My position is a permanent one, in academic circles you could say I have a form of tenure. This is an incredible luxury in many ways, as many of my colleagues do not have this bedrock. There is no real rush, no existential threat to my job if I do not reach X milestone by date Y. Technically if I never supervised a PhD or ever attracted funding, there is little they could do. Of course, I feel a strong urge to contribute to the regeneration of the Earth, and the reduction as much as possible of continued climate and social collapse. And I have a creative drive that, when I am not fighting dragons, is more than strong enough to keep me from doing nothing or resting on my laurels. I deeply value further learning. Yet, I struggle deeply with gifting myself one of the key luxuries that the system has (unwittingly) awarded me; time. The time to slow down, and gently work on a research agenda. The time to slow down, and gently mentor, counsel, and supervise the team. The time to slow down, and choose where I spend my energies. And the time I need to develop my own capacity to be truly present, in loving and caring ways, for those in the team. I am simultaneously convinced that embracing this wonderful and unique gift would significantly improve the long-term potential of our group and live with a sense of urgency to further ‘proof’ myself. Am I truly worthy of this position? Can I make sure that is seen? Am I keeping everyone happy in terms of the expectations they may have of this role, and my embodiment of it?
How to navigate this embodiment without running after every possible opportunity just because it presents itself. Especially when I don’t know yet how it fits in the longer-term potential of the group and the place. This is why I feel a urge to create a research agenda. Without strategy, we are only working ad hoc. Sometimes, that is fine and needed and the most beautiful of ideas and insights. can originate from that type of serendipitious emergence. But I believe to truly serve the potential of the role, a cared-for, cultivated, and guided form (one could say strategic) form of emergence is required instead. It is very easy to get swept away by the strength and speed of the system. E-mail, WhatsApp, subsidies, educational requirements, my own expectations, and those of others. Or the easy temptation of ‘can’t you make an exception to not working on Monday just this once?’ and ‘can’t you just briefly explain regeneration in a 20-minute keynote for our students?’ I am actively being with this tension and attempting to slow down. Meaningfully and purposefully. To truly work towards doing work that is A) regenerative and not just ‘doing less damage’.
The Regenesis Institute amongst others highlights the difference between paradigms of doing good and truly being regenerative quite beautifully. Doing good, may be informed by good intentions, but prolongs existing systems that are ultimately unhealthy. Acting from a regenerative paradigm aims to actively healing.
Currently, several projects occasionally feel like that. At the very least they feel like they are slowed down by existing doing good paradigm forces. For example, I have been co-guiding the development of a new master's program, which was set to launch in 2025 but is likely to be launched in 2026. The program has a lot of potential as it is a joint program with 12 other universities of applied sciences. The first time such a large collaborative proposal has been submitted to our ministry. But it’s also slowed, stopped, disrupted by governance and financial concerns and entrenched educational actors who have different powers and needs. Staying in the transition arena for so many years (about 4 from conception to running if all goes according to the planned timeline) is hard. It is tiring. Especially as it also raises questions for me like ‘should we really launch another master’s program?’ When I look at my own university, it is a clear case that we could use more. Currently, we do not offer opportunities for all of the bachelor students to continue in-house at the master’s level. But if I take a more national look, there are already so many opportunities for our graduates. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of programs in our wee country alone. Aren’t our energies and efforts better spent elsewhere, in transforming or hospicing what already is instead of creating what could be?
I am trying to savor the truly unique gift that you have given me. So, I am not trying to be whiney, or complain about this tension, they just are. And it is teaching me something. It is teaching me about how I wish to embody this role in a way that also works for me. How can I do this so that it serves my capacity to be of service. And how do I protect my time so that I can be purposeful and meaningful in committing to several smaller things but doing them well. To truly nurture their potential, instead of doing many things only superficially.
5. Caring for myself
During my treatment for depression, a wonderfully skilled therapist helped me with Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, which is often used for chronic conditions. One of the key tenets of this approach is the identification of core values and rearranging your life in line with these. One of mine that we co-identified was caring for myself so that I can show up for and with others. It is also one that I usually don’t hold on tightly enough when I get stressed or overwhelmed. Instead of being steadfast and saying no, I tend to reduce my self-care and accommodate. That is not only not regenerative, it is also personally unsustainable. This year, stepping into the role I am stepping into coincides with my further healing. So, I have pledged that this core value will be the most important one for me. Writing these letters is part of practicing that value. But it’s also sports, and diet, and rest, and coaching. I have decided to challenge some preconceived notions that I lived with related to my disability and I have picked up running. I am doing so gently, slowly, and building up gradually. However, I have set my sights on certain races and activities that I wish to attempt. And I have promised myself that I will stay gentle while I do so. I may not complete them, I may not do them as fast as I like. But it is the journey that counts. I know that for my ability to show up in the world to be a regenerative force, I must invest in movement. I start my days with 60–90 minutes of exercise now, and that time is sacred. Anything that disrupts that related to work is canceled or adjusted to facilitate that moving around. I have found a wonderful coach to go on frequent walks with to help me stay true to this promise. ‘Luckily’ my body tells me quickly when I do not live up to this promise. As the arthritis rapidly becomes worse if I become less active.
6. Leaning into indirect work
Perhaps the most challenging thing I have been leaning into has been to embrace and have faith in the indirect potential of my work. Especially as I am further removed from the ‘mud’ as we would say in Dutch of being and connecting with the educational practice which is my general focus. I am instead, refocusing on investing and nourishing the next generations of regenerative educators. Exploring ways that I can co-create materials and projects that aid in this endeavor. And trusting that this work my indirectly reach many more than I would be able if I only engaged in the mud. I also realized quite quickly that I do need some type of reconnection with practice, as it is something that like movement nourishes my soul. I am still exploring if I can take on a single course for example, or perhaps a minor, so that I can feel and be re-energized by that resourcing of working within an educational context. Perhaps leaning into this has been an encounter with what friend and colleague Dr. Lopes Cardozo calls the Regenerative Leap of Faith.
7. School for Regenerative Educators
Part of my energies and desire to play a part in facilitating the regenerative education movement is being channeled professionally outside of my position at THUAS. Together with amazing friends and colleagues, I have been working on a collective autoethnography for several years now. We are hoping to publish this as a book next year. But equally as exciting, we are taking steps to establish The School for Regenerative Educators (SRE) where we will create offerings to the educational field to nourish the regenerative capacity and potential of educators. This will likely become a cooperative, which means that like many in family, I will be entrepreneuring pretty soon. That is exciting but also a bit nerve-wracking.
I have a deep faith that the field is ready and there is space for an organization like SRE, but it also feels risky, particularly with arthritis to let go of the safety of permanent employment to set out for ourselves like this. At the same time, it feels like a partial answer to what the Earth is asking from me. We are exploring several offerings including 1 day regenerative walkshops, 2–3 day regenerative mini-retreats and 10-month online capacity-building programs. We have recently had the chance to, while working on our collective autoethnography, organize a magical trial retreat. My own responsibility for nurturing during the retreat was cooking, which I love to do for others. I look forward to cooking many more meals for regenerative educators.
At the same time, we are also completing the work on our book, which is honestly been the most transformative and regenerative project I have ever worked on. The entire book has been narrated into existence across our collective experiences of regenerating education for years. I am beyond excited to share more about SRE as the idea matures and the organization is truly born. Expect an update and first offerings soon.
8. Balancing my long-term intentions with regenerative being now
Lastly, I do experience some tensions with my own longer-term intentions and my ability to show up regenerative in the now. For example, the strong urge I feel to spend more time and live with(in) nature. Which is hard to combine with being in the West of the Netherlands. How do I make sure that my decisions now are not only serviceable to my own long-term ambitions but to the regenerative potential of the context in front of me. And how I do move between those in just ways. How do I make sure that I supervise or mentor in ways remain caring and loving and kind to those I am mentoring right now, in ways that they also make my own intentions for longer term more realistic. In this, I am trying to find balance. I hope to live with this tension in a just and regenerative way. And I hope that I remain conscious and present in navigating this tension.
The above considerations and insights capture my very preliminary and emerging insights that I wanted to share with you. As I find my way back into the light so that I may be of service. Of course, my continued healing remains a key cornerstone of my own development for the foreseeable future.
The unravelings and unwindings that I have been living lately have also led me to the central research question that I will be encountering in this series: How can I be regenerative as a scholar, educator, and leader, for myself, those around me in my care, and the wider Earth, while being entangled with degenerative systems? This series represents my autoethnographic account of living with(in) this question. As you may have noticed, this will incorporate private, personal scenes, thoughts, emotions, and experiences that may at times, be hard to read or be with. I strongly believe that regeneration is something that incorporates moving with(in). I hope to be able to share more about this school with you in my next letter. Indeed, I would argue the book we are co-creating on regenerative education is our collective love letter to this beautiful planet.
With Love,
Bas
