The Living World

I’m writing this from bed, watching the patterns of sunlight filtered through the leaves outside my window. The way it dances across my headboard, the gentle shift of shadows. It’s only this way for a short time of the year, and I got to know it intimately in the tender weeks after giving birth to my son two years ago.

There’s something about those early postpartum days that opens you up to the rawness of life. I remember lying in bed, cradling new life in my arms, feeling overwhelming waves of wonder and vulnerability. I was suddenly aware of the intricate, fragile beauty of the living world in a way I hadn’t been before. Bringing life into the world deepened my awareness of my place within all that is so much larger than myself. It was from that place that I felt called to create this substack and return to the creative work of giving voice to the life that moves through me– something I’d honestly neglected in the high pressures of the consulting, strategic advising, creative production, and leadership training work I was eyeballs deep in in the two years leading up to the birth of my son.

The tender, unknowable vulnerability of motherhood called me back to my creative expression as a lifeline of remembrance of who I truly am, and I am so grateful to those of you who have come to join me in my exploration of the living wisdom of the living world over the last two years. I’m even more grateful to those who have expressed their resonance with financial support. Those few paid subscriptions each have gone farther than the dollar amount ever could; they’ve affirmed that my work connected to deep relationship with The Living World is valuable, which has helped me regenerate my own self-concept to recommit to the work I have known for a decade is mine to do, supporting the leaders healing the earth in the subtle dimensions of shaping change. That work is taking off in ways I could have hardly imagined even months ago, and it’s all in service to the integrity of this biosphere we call home, and the integrity of we humans as living, agentive, powerful lifeforms whose power and place within the living world, we are urgently called to remember.

And here I am again, feeling that same light, that same connection—a reminder that we are not separate from the living world. We are contributors, participants in its continual process of creation, growth, and regeneration. Becoming a parent was one of the most powerful reminders of that truth for me: I was in a contributing relationship with the life of the world, part of the web and the family of this earth in a new way, a way that required greater presence, maturity, and willingness to feel.

This reflection, this sense of interconnectedness, is at the heart of what I’ve been wanting to explore here; the meaning behind this title. When I speak about the living world, it’s an active choice to move away from the language of “nature.” The idea of nature often creates a false sense of separation. Nature is out there, a realm separate from us which we must visit and protect and fight for, but it isn’t us. The living world on the other hand, is everything—the air we breathe, the light that filters through the trees, the children we bring into the world, and even the technologies we create. All of it is part of an intricate, interconnected system, and nothing in the human experience is separate from it.

Welcome to The Living World, where we explore the living wisdom of the living world and seek to understand our place within it. I am your host, Ganga Devi Braun, and I work as a developmental partner and advisor to the leaders, visionaries, and nurturer’s shaping regenerative futures. To learn more about me and my work, please visit gangadevibraun.com.

Early this morning, I saw a note from Guy James that elegantly summarizes something that’s always on my mind: “You’re constantly, and mostly unconsciously, proving your myth of the world to yourself.”

This simple idea cuts to the core of what we’re going to explore here. The way we see ourselves in relation to the world—our self-concept—is not only shaping our individual lives but is also deeply influencing how we interact with everything around us. Whether we realize it or not, we’re continually reinforcing whatever dominant (often unconscious) worldview we’re operating from. Our worldviews become self-fulfilling prophecies. It’s essential we choose them mindfully, with hearts and eyes open to the world we long for for ourselves and all of life to come.

Ecosomatic Cybernetics

Recently with Gray Area, a San Francisco based based antidisciplinary cultural incubator, I’ve been delving into the histories of cybernetic countercultures, studying its evolution from Norbert Wiener who coined the term from the greek word to steer, to seeing how industry, history, and culture diverged into multiple branches of this discipline, including machine cognition and intelligence, but also including the study of Gaian cognition and intelligence.

What many people who study cybernetics in tech don’t know is that the animal body’s system, particularly the nervous system, was present at the roots of the earliest stages of cybernetic inquiry.

This was most famously developed within Psycho-Cybernetics, a book which has changed the course of the world. In Psycho-Cybernetics, Maxwell Maltz showed us how our self-concept determines the course of our lives. This book, written in 1960, is at the root of most self-development work, the human potential movement, and so many forms of leadership, manifestation, and self-help that have emerged from there.

Maltz’s work emphasized that our internal image of ourselves—the stories we hold about who we are—shape our actions, our limitations, and our potential. Th potentials that are unlocked with this work are profound, but the limitations of are becoming more and more obvious; the limitations of solely focusing on the power of your mind to affect change in your life.

My husband Seth Kaufmann has been experimenting on an expansion of this framework through methods he calls Psycho Somatic Cybernetics—which explores how our bodies carry and shape our beliefs, influencing the way we live and move in the world. The body remembers, the body stores, and the body participates in creating reality. This more embodied approach, integrates what scientific studies and the larger community of somatic practitioners are continuously discovering: the role of trauma in limiting what we believe is possible for ourselves, and the role of pleasure in expanding it.

On the trauma side, this includes inherited traumas, collective traumas, and often very subtle traumas that we may not even take seriously within ourselves, but which, when resolved, free us from the patterns of self-sabotage that we as individuals, as families, and as a collective humanity have been stuck in for far too long.

On the pleasure side, this includes sensual and sexual pleasure, the pleasure of good conversation, the pleasure of intellectual stimulation, the pleasure of time spent in nature and within community, the pleasure of intergenerational relationships, the pleasure of ritual, the pleasure of meaningful accomplishments, the pleasure of rest.

Just this morning Seth published his Sunday Substack exploring this idea in the context of grounded expansion.

In my experience of motherhood meeting my return to the deeper regenerative work that moves through me, there’s a piece I’ve been longing to express that is ecosystemic in nature. Last night I began thinking of framing it as Eco Somatic Cybernetics, which we are seeing as a larger whole that can and must contain the nested frameworks of Psycho Somatic Cybernetics and Psycho Cybernetics and the Cybernetics of mainstream computational development in the machines that we, living humans, have created and which now belong to the living world.

The essence of what is emerging with Eco Somatic Cybernetics is remembrance that we belong to the living family of the living world. And when we shift our self-concept to remember that, the potential of our lives and what we can accomplish from a place of embodiment, love, deep listening, and profound care is immense.

Just as the work Seth is bringing forward with Psycho Somatic Cybernetics helps us understand the feedback loops between our mind and body, Eco Somatic Cybernetics invites us to see how those loops extend beyond the individual—into the ecosystems and living networks we belong to.

Becoming a parent awakened this understanding for me in a visceral way. Holding new life in my arms, I could feel my place in the ongoing dance of creation, the way my body and actions were part of a larger system of care and continuity. The light coming through the window, the trees outside, the child in my arms—we are all part of the same process.

Healing Ourselves, Healing the Living World

It’s no coincidence that so many of our physical, personal, and societal struggles stem from disconnection—from ourselves, from one another, and from the living world. And it’s no coincidence that restoring connection is key to healing, whether we’re looking at poisoned soil that heals through mycoremediation, or injury in the body that heals through the many ways we can restore connection to the body.

Fascia is essential for the body’s coherence—it’s an interstitial network that keeps everything functioning as a whole. Fascia connects and coordinates within our bodies, allowing communication between muscles and organs, we are connected to and constantly in conversation with the living world. Similarly, mycelium in forests forms an underground web that connects all plants and all decaying matter, facilitating the transfer of nutrients, information, and energy, ensuring that the entire ecosystem thrives together.

Both fascia and mycelium remind us of the importance of interconnectedness. They show us that nothing functions in isolation—not our bodies, and not the ecosystems we live in.

But here’s the critical piece: the way we conceptualize ourselves in relation to these networks determines how we interact with them. If we hold a worldview where we see ourselves as separate from the living world, we disconnect from these essential networks. Our choices and actions, whether conscious or unconscious, reinforce that disconnection. And just like a body with damaged fascia or a forest without a healthy mycelial network, we begin to see breakdowns—dis-ease, imbalance, and fragmentation.

On the other hand, when we shift our self-concept to remember that we are an integral part of the living world, everything changes. Just as fascia allows for the body to move as a coherent whole, our sense of belonging to the earth allows us to act in ways that regenerate and restore the interstitial connections between ourselves and the living systems we depend on. We move from disconnection to participation.

The mental models we hold—whether we view ourselves as connected or separate—create profound feedback loops. These feedback loops are cybernetic by nature, constantly shaping and reshaping our actions, which then ripple out into the ecosystems around us. When we embrace a self-concept rooted in interconnectedness, our actions begin to heal and restore the webs of life that sustain us. We no longer see nature as something “other,” but as a family of life that we are actively contributing to.

Just as fascia can regenerate and repair itself through movement and care, and just as mycelium can re-knit the forest after disruption, we too can regenerate our connection to the living world. By continuously attending to our self-concept, we can begin to participate in this ongoing process of creation and regeneration—both within ourselves and within the larger ecosystems of the earth.

Motherhood taught me this in a way I couldn’t have anticipated. In nurturing new life, I was not just caring for my child—I was participating in a larger movement of life itself. And that’s what each of us is called to do, whether we’re parents or not: to recognize that in healing ourselves, in tending to our bodies and our hearts, we are also tending to the living world. And that when we remember ourselves as belonging to the living world, our bodies, hearts, minds, and relationships begin to naturally heal as well.

When we live from this place, we are no longer just individuals seeking self-actualization. We are agents of change within the larger systems of the earth, participating in its healing and growth.

Listening to the Living World

So how do we live this truth? How do we move from seeing ourselves as separate to experiencing ourselves as integral to the living world? It starts with simple practices of reconnection.

One of these practices is what my friend Dajé Alōh, The Story Doula, teaches as a Listening Walk. It’s a way to move through the world with attention, listening not just with our ears but with our whole selves. As we walk, we notice the light filtering through the trees, the way the earth feels under our feet, the sounds of birds and wind. We allow ourselves to be present, to listen for the messages that the living world is constantly offering.

Another practice is to sit with the land. Whether it’s by a tree, a river, or a simple patch of grass, we can sit and let ourselves sink into the natural rhythms around us. These moments remind us that we are part of a longer, ongoing story of life, one that stretches back long before us and will continue long after us.

And finally, we can start to pay attention to the natural cycles that pulse through the living world—the phases of the moon, the changing of the seasons, the cycles of growth and decay, and how these cycles show up within our own bodies. When we align ourselves with these rhythms, we begin to see that our personal healing is inseparable from the healing of the world.

At the core of Eco Somatic Cybernetics is the simple remembrance: we are the living world. Our bodies, our actions, our choices are all part of a larger system of life. When we remember this, we stop seeing ourselves as isolated individuals and begin to understand that every action we take ripples out into the ecosystems around us.

Whether we are nurturing new life as parents or simply walking through the forest, we are participating in the continual process of creation, healing, and regeneration. The living world is not separate from us. We are its agents, its participants, and its caretakers. And when we live from this understanding, we participate in our collective healing—one moment, one breath, one action at a time.

I am a child of the most biodiverse estuary in North America. Named for the Ais people, who lived interdependently with this river and lagoon ecosystem, Indian River County is nested within a bioregion for which hurricanes are a part of the pattern of life. The Ais people lived with these storms, and there is so much we don’t know about how they anticipated, adapted to, and moved through these powerful storms that mark the end of the season of heat.

Indian River County is the heart of the Treasure Coast, named for the gold and jewels that the Spanish Crown stole from the indigenous peoples of South America. It was all reclaimed by the sea in 1622 when a hurricane sunk a fleet of ships holding what would have been in today’s accounting hundreds of millions of dollars worth of stolen treasure. Even now, after big storms, beachcombers can find galleons and jewels in the sand. Hurricanes are, in every sense, a force of redistribution. They redistribute heat, water, attention, gold, nutrients, awareness, gratitude. 

Growing up in this place, I’ve learned that hurricanes are more than just destructive forces; they are teachers, ceremonies that demand our attention, our presence, and our humility. They teach us about the delicate equilibrium the Earth seeks, and they remind us of the vital importance of community and interdependence. Hurricanes have shaped my understanding of the land and my place within it. Over time, these storms have come to symbolize much more: the necessity of bioregional resilience, the power of communal care, and the opportunity for regeneration after destruction.

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One of the most profound lessons hurricanes have taught me is how easily we are geared to fixate on entropy—what is broken, what is threatening, what feels unstable. But when faced with a hurricane, I become so aware of what is whole, what is still standing strong. I become keenly attuned to syntropy, the counterforce to entropy, which brings things together, which enables life, which makes our wholeness possible. In the anticipation of destruction, there is an opportunity to pay attention to what is still intact: solid land, the standing trees, the unbroken homes, the blessings of community, and the forces that are still alive, holding us together.

The Land as Teacher

The wisdom of this land teaches me every day. It has shaped my entire life, both personally and professionally in my work of shaping regenerative futures alongside brilliant people and remarkable organizations creating positive, life affirming change every day. When I teach about Buckminster Fuller’s concept of trim tabs—the idea that one small, well-placed action or agent can create immense change—I can’t help but mention the gopher tortoise every time. This small creature, native to our area, plays a crucial role in the ecosystem, digging burrows that offer shelter to hundreds of other species. When I speak about the resilience and growth patterns and power of trees, it’s not an abstraction; I’m speaking of the oak trees around my home, those strong, flexible protectors that buffer us from the wind. They are some the greatest teachers of the living systems dynamics I’ve been studying and teaching for nearly a decade.

This land, this incredibly diverse bioregion, constantly teaches me about dynamic equilibrium. Hurricanes, though often seen as destructive forces, actually play a key role in maintaining the regenerative flow of life. They redistribute heat, moving it from the equator toward the poles, helping to regulate the planet’s temperature. This Earth, in its wisdom, is always dynamically changing, seeking equilibrium. Hurricanes are part of that living process. Humanity must be too.

And while it’s easy to see the devastation hurricanes bring, they also redistribute nutrients, clear space for new growth, and remind us to pay attention to the ever present forces of life that are so much bigger than us. Amid the fallen branches and floodwaters, there are always trees still standing, land that remains whole, and the strong roots that hold steady. In these moments, I am reminded that life is not only about what has fallen apart but what remains and grows stronger.

Hurricanes as Ceremony

Every time a hurricane approaches, it brings with it a ceremony. 

Like all ceremonies, hurricanes transform us. They require preparation, surrender, and radical presence.

I learned about ceremony from my parents, who were the head ceremonialists at the Ashram I was raised on. They led rituals throughout the year, including Durga Puja / Navaratri, which is a powerful 9 nights of honoring the Goddess in many forms, a ceremonial time that always overlaps with the heat of hurricane season. They taught me that ceremonies require deep preparation and our full presence. During the storm, we must show up for every moment: sometimes in action, sometimes in stillness, sometimes in connection, and sometimes in solitude. The lessons we learn during these times are ones that we carry forward, long after the storm has passed.

Hurricane Milton has taught me lessons of responsibility, leaning into the new experience of navigating the choices that a hurricane presents us with, now as parents of a toddler. The physical preparations are straightforward: we move potential projectiles, put up shutters, ensure we have enough water, prepare food, and charge our devices. We check on neighbors and prepare for the potential loss of power—sometimes for weeks.

But the mental and emotional preparations are just as important. I often remove social media from my phone to stay focused and grounded. It’s a time for discernment—being incredibly careful about the information we take in, tuning out the fear-mongering, and attuning to what is real. I pay attention to the data from NHC NOAA, and I also attune to the signs in nature, the wildlife, and my own instincts. I listen to the wisdom of my body, the signals of my nervous system, and the voices of those who are in it with me. There is a fine balance between understanding what we know intellectually and what we feel on a deeper, intuitive level.

And here, again, hurricanes remind me of the power of paying attention to what is intact: the strength of my home, the resilience of my family, the community that holds together in the face of uncertainty. It’s easy to fixate on what might go wrong, but hurricanes teach me to stay present to what is still holding, what is still working, what is syntropic.

And hurricanes, like any ceremony, are about not only the dissolution they bring but the potential they reveal. In the aftermath of a storm, when everything feels shaken, community comes together more than at any other time. It is truly a powerful, beautiful thing. I am reminded to look at what is still standing, what continues to support life, and what roots us in place. There is always something strong to anchor to if we pay attention.

Community and Interdependence

No one can survive or recover from a hurricane in isolation. Whether the storm leaves behind devastation or passes with little damage, it is always a reminder of our need for one another.

I remember the sense of togetherness that came after the hurricanes of 2004. In the wake of four major storms in rapid succession, our community came together in ways I had never experienced before. We shared meals, resources, and care. FEMA support was essential and as a middle schooler I ate MREs for weeks alongside friends and neighbors, and though the devastation was real, the bonds and strength of the community is what I remember most.

Years later, during Hurricane Matthew as a young adult I found myself throwing on galoshes the morning after and riding my bike around our community, checking on neighbors and friends, and serving as a messenger and a good neighbor. It was an honor to be part of that web of connection. Hurricanes demand that we put aside our differences—be they political, religious, or economic—and face the storm together. They remind us that we are all on this same ground, praying for safety, for rootedness, for the well-being of our homes and each other.

And again, while it’s easy to focus on the chaos, hurricanes remind us of the power of community—the people who remain, who show up for each other, who rebuild together. The integrity of community, much like the integrity of the land, is something to celebrate even amidst the storm.

Birth Story

Perhaps the most transformative hurricane I’ve experienced was Hurricane Ian, which arrived just days after we moved to my hometown, and two weeks before I was due to give birth. It became an undeniable part of my birth story.

At a time when most people expect mothers to rest and nest, I found myself out in the mounting winds, nine months pregnant, moving projectiles and putting up shutters. My family urged me to stop, but I stood firm, finding tremendous energy and repeating to myself and anyone who would listen, “I am strong. I have to be strong for what I’m about to go through.” The storm felt like an initiation into my strength as a mother. It was a powerful reminder that when life requires it, we often discover new reserves of power within ourselves.

And as Ian passed, I was again reminded that while some things break, other things hold. We lost electricity for 6 days, and on the 7th day, right in between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, during the Days of Awe, the power returned, and I gave birth the next day. This transformative, liminal time is one in which we can change our fates through prayer and generosity and atonement. This year, Hurricane Milton came through during this same window of transformative time, and now on the eve of Yom Kippur, I feel deeply how this storm has shifted my own life.

Regeneration & the Life-Death-Life Cycle

Hurricanes bring devastation, loss, and death. They remind us that life is fragile and impermanent. Yet in the aftermath of destruction, there is always the opportunity for regeneration. Just as hurricanes redistribute heat for the planet, they offer us the chance to shift stagnant energy, redistribute our own energy and resources, and to connect more deeply with the land and with each other.

In the face of devastation, we can choose to become jaded and shut down, or we can open our hearts. We can offer support, receive it in turn, and commit to living in a way that supports life, equilibrium, and the well-being of our communities. Hurricanes invite us into a consciousness shift—a chance to realign with the Earth and each other.

They teach us to focus not on what has been lost, but on what is still here, still holding, still offering life.

Hurricanes remind us of our radical interdependence. They teach us that we are all in this together, interdependent within our bioregions, and responsible for the common ground which gives us life. Whether or not you have experienced a hurricane, the lessons they offer are universal: stay connected, stay present, and work toward a world that supports life in all its forms. It’s an invitation to live with greater consciousness, to recognize our role in supporting the equilibrium of the planet, and to move toward a regenerative culture in every aspect of our lives.

For years I’ve been exploring how humanity’s obsession with perpetual growth mirrors the destructive nature of cancer. This exploration led me down a path of co-developing different theories of change, seeking ways to counteract this cancerous mindset.

Along the way, I discovered that I’m in good company in this inquiry. Edward Abbey, the environmental philosopher and author, famously wrote, “Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.” His words echo the patterns I’d observed in both societal systems and individual lives. This idea was likely first planted in my mind through my early readings of Joanna Macy, who describes our current era as “late-stage capitalism”—an unsustainable system focused on expansion without concern for the destruction it leaves in its wake.

I am personally very interested in how these institutional dynamics play out and are reproduced in our internal, interpersonal, and intergenerational patterns. This is an inquiry that my husband and I are in constant co-development and inquiry around.

As my partner, Seth Kaufmann and I have reflected on patterns we see in the many different communities and industries we belong to, and we’ve both seen firsthand how this obsession with one dimensional growth manifests in people’s lives:

* Consider the husband who is so focused on breadwinning for the family that his wife and children leave him because he’s completely unavailable emotionally, practically, and physically.

* Or the spiritual seeker who dives so deeply into their chosen path that they develop spiritual narcissism and become intolerable to the people who know and love them.

* Or the biohacker so focused on getting the strongest, sexiest, most fit body from a fantasy that that will attract their dream partner that they lose the skill of deep presence and listening.

* We see this in those who become addicted to self-improvement, hopping from one plant medicine ceremony to the next, bouncing between high vibration communities and trainings, always seeking the next level.

What if we approached our growth process the way that all healthy living systems grow? Multidimensionally, ecosystemically, in many directions, with phases for stabilizing, integrating, and rest?

This is the essence of the work Seth and I do. We bring to our clients a regenerative, multidimensional approach to growth that includes not just the self, but also the people, communities, and ecosystems that nurture us. We work with three dimensions of self: the internal, the interpersonal, and the intergenerational. To bring this beyond theory and into practical embodiment, Seth will contribute his perspectives throughout this essay. I see firsthand how his clients experience truly multidimensional transformations, and it’s this kind of growth that inspired this essay.

The Dangers of One-Dimensional Growth

Seth and I work with clients who have experienced the fallout of one-dimensional growth. They’ve become so focused on excelling in one area—whether it’s fitness, career success, or personal transformation—that they’ve unintentionally created rifts in their relationships. This is what happens when growth becomes uncontrolled and harmful. Like cancer, it overtakes the environment and damages the very ecosystem that sustains it.

We must ask ourselves: In what ways does our singular focus on growth harm the people and connections that sustain us? What if, instead, we approached growth from a multidimensional perspective—one that considers how our personal growth impacts those we love and the communities we live in?

Seth: A huge lesson I’ve learned from Ganga Devi’s regenerative work over the years is that sometimes, it’s about pruning—letting go of old patterns, habits, or beliefs that are no longer serving you. Pruning is essential because without it, the tree becomes overgrown and unbalanced.

In our lives, pruning might mean letting go of unhealthy relationships, old ways of thinking, or routines and regimens that aren’t working anymore. We do this not only through making conscious choice, but working at the level of psychosomatic patterns that are keeping you stuck, and releasing them.

This is essential in regeneration. You compost what no longer serves, and in doing so, you make space for new growth—growth that’s healthier, more intentional, and aligned with who you are now and who you are becoming.

Our intention in developing this piece is that it might help you to consciously prune and compost any beliefs or strategies within your own life in which you may still be approaching growth as a one-dimensional endeavor.

Growing in All Directions

One of the most remarkable things about trees is their ability to grow in all directions simultaneously. They don’t just stretch upward, reaching for the sun, which is the most obvious form of growth we can see. They expand outward, building their trunks and branches, and they root deeply, establishing a strong foundation to support their height and breadth. This multidirectional growth is vital for their health and resilience.

Trees grow steadily—widening their trunks, deepening their roots, and expanding their branches, all at once. This is what makes them so strong. It’s not just about growing taller or producing more leaves; they’re stabilizing as they grow, grounding themselves deeper into the earth while reaching higher toward the sky. Without this balance of upward, downward, and outward growth, trees would either topple from weak roots or fail to thrive with limited height.

This principle of multidirectional growth applies to our lives as well. Like trees, we need to grow in all directions—wide, tall, and deep. We need to expand our relationships and connections (our outward growth), reach for higher goals and aspirations (our upward growth), and at the same time, ground ourselves by healing from the past and creating strong foundations (our deep-rooted growth).

Seth: When you take the time to honestly assess how you’re doing in multiple dimensions of your life, the clarity that follows is unavoidable. You can’t help but begin to make strategic changes to improve the whole system. I begin this way with all of my clients because it provides a baseline from which we approach your growth to ensure you’re truly well rounded. Feeling solid in career, money, and fitness but struggling with sex and spirituality? Great, it gives us focus and clarity. With this approach, we see how all dimensions are connected, and it’s easy to make subtle shifts in daily rituals and routines that help benefit multiple dimensions at once.

Stabilize and Expand

Trees grow in all directions because they have natural cycles of stabilization and expansion. They root deeply, establishing a strong foundation before stretching upward. This balance of stability and change is essential to all living systems and is reflected in systems theory as fließgleichgewicht, or flux equilibrium—a state where stability and transformation coexist to support life.

This cyclical growth applies not only to trees but to our bodies and lives as well. Just as trees require periods of rest to gather strength before expanding, our bodies and minds need time to recalibrate and integrate. In fitness, for example, constant effort without recovery leads to burnout or injury. True progress requires honoring the cycle of growth and stabilization.

Seth: In fitness culture, we often see this obsession with constant growth and improvement—more reps, faster times, bigger muscles. It’s the same cancerous mindset, and it’s actually completely contradicted by the science. What we need is a regenerative approach to fitness, and to all areas of life.

The body, like all living systems, requires periods of rest, stabilization, and recovery. If you’re constantly pushing yourself to grow without giving your body the time to stabilize, you’ll burn out, get injured, and ultimately lose the balance you need to thrive. Regenerative fitness is about honoring those natural cycles—growing, then stabilizing, and then growing again. It’s about becoming stronger and more resilient over time, without sacrificing your long-term well-being for short-term gains.

When approached this way, the inputs, routines, and rituals we create for our fitness, health, and wellbeing become tools of greater connection and cultivation. They support the development of our consciousness and our ability to live a life of true intimacy and integrity.

Each year, trees go through seasons of growth and rest. In the spring and summer, they expand; in the fall and winter, they stabilize, conserving energy and preparing for the next cycle of growth. When we slice a tree, the rings reveal this story of steady, balanced growth. These rings are circular, of course, because trees grow in all directions at once.

Seth: One of the concepts I bring into our work is called periodization. Periodization comes from the world of exercise science, where it’s used to structure an athlete’s training into cycles of work, rest, and recalibration. Originally developed by Eastern European sports scientists to maximize athlete performance, periodization breaks down goals into smaller, manageable phases—each with its own focus—allowing athletes to peak at the right moment without burning out.

But periodization isn’t just useful for physical training. It’s applicable to all areas of life. I apply this framework to help people align their goals across multiple dimensions—physical, emotional, relational, and even spiritual. Whether you’re working on building a business, strengthening your relationships, or improving your fitness, periodization helps you stay focused, avoid overwhelm, and create sustainable progress. When you’re clear on your goals, periodization becomes essential for success, helping you balance growth with recovery and focus with reflection.

And of course the multidimensional growth of trees is not just horizontal, as seen in the rings of their trunks, but also vertical—growing both deep into the earth and high into the sky. This mirrors how we, too, must grow in all directions: healing from the past (our roots), stabilizing in the present, and expanding into the future (our upward growth).

This is how we believe we are meant to grow—like trees, not cancer. In cycles of expansion and stabilization. In a way that contributes to the health of our personal ecosystems, rather than depleting them.

Whole-System Benefits

True regeneration requires a holistic view of growth beyond one singular metric. It’s about how we nurture the entire ecosystem of our lives. When trees grow, they don’t just do it for themselves—they give back in countless ways, enriching the soil, providing oxygen, offering shade, and supporting countless other species.

Our personal growth should be no different. We should aim to grow in a way that benefits not only ourselves but our communities, relationships, and the environment around us.

Seth: Growth isn’t just about what you can achieve for yourself. It’s about how your growth impacts the people around you, your relationships, and even future generations. True well-being includes internal, interpersonal, and intergenerational dimensions. Just as trees support entire ecosystems, we can grow in a way that uplifts everyone connected to us. This kind of growth—where we expand and stabilize in all dimensions—leads to lasting fulfillment and a life in which everyone thrives.

We can choose to grow like trees— in all directions, stabilizing, expanding, giving back, and regenerating. Growth doesn’t have to be about relentless optimization or self-improvement for the sake of it. It can be about flourishing in balance with the world around us, contributing to the ecosystems of our bodies, relationships, and communities.

This morning we read this poem by Nikita Gill to one another, slowly and out loud. We welcome you to do the same:

Every Day

Is not an opportunity to improve yourself.Some days are just there for you to accept yourselfand look at the clouds.This too is growth.This too is rising.The flowers do it everydayand make the world more beautifuljust by being there.

So do you.

Rest today.There is tomorrow.

– Nitika Gill

This poem reminds us, there are days for growing and days for simply being. Growth, like life, is cyclical, and on some days, resting and accepting ourselves is just as important as striving for more.

We hope that whatever your growth trajectory, that it be dynamic, multidimensional, integrative, and most of all, that it supports the thriving of not only you as an individual, but everyone you love.

We’d love to hear your thoughts on this topic through the comments below, and we have been loving connecting with those of you who have been reaching out directly to us. We’ve begun some incredibly rich coaching relationships through people we’ve connected with here on Substack. The depth that is possible through relationships begun here is powerful, and we look forward to connecting with more of you.

You can connect with Seth via his website here. Seth thrives when connecting with people, so he offers 30 minute discovery calls, totally free, for anyone interested in exploring working together. His passion is helping people get the right support for them, which may or may not be working with him, so don’t expect a hard sell, just a clarifying conversation with someone who wants the best for you.

I don’t offer discovery calls, but I have recently begun offering Regenerative Development Consultation sessions for people interested in regenerative development either personally or professionally. You can book that here.

This is an essay I wrote originally on Valentines Day of 2019. I’ve recently been revisiting it for multiple reasons, including recent work I’ve been doing with Stephen Bau who I first connected with in 2020 because of this essay. It’s an honor to be spiraling back in time to this meditation.I welcome you to tune in and listen in a space and moment in which your body can be fully at ease and resting in gravity.

Take a moment, close your eyes, breathe deeply, and think about what you love most in the world. What are a few words to describe how you feel?

I feel grounded and steady, like I’m rooted to the earth, or have a blanket, heavy and soft, wrapped around my shoulders. I feel a smile coming over my lips, a joy that feels like laughter and tears washing over me, astonishment that what I love exists. I feel a tugging, from deep within my belly, a yearning to be close to what I love. I feel excitement because I know that when I am immersed in what I love, the opportunity for creation is endless.

Love shapes our human bonds, our choices, and whatever we may identify as our purpose in life. Love is a reason for tremendous creation and destruction in our species, and the boundaries of who is included within our love create the lines in the sand beyond which lies the land of “other,” the land of “them.” If I asked any cross section of humanity to precisely define love, I would receive mostly frustrated, confused responses. If I asked you to describe it, the answers would come flooding in, full of adjectives, poetry, strong feelings, and just by thinking about love, your body would physiologically change.

Buckminster Fuller, beloved American architect, systems theorist, polymath, poet once wrote, “love is metaphysical gravity.” To some this is a statement that lands naturally, for others it’s an idea that seems alien and confusing. After all, the meaning of metaphysics has changed tremendously in the last few hundred years, and we don’t really know much about gravity either. To make a statement equating something so deeply personal that our motivations are shaped by a longing for it from the morning we are born with something as abstract and impersonal as our grade school lessons about Newton’s law of universal gravitation seems, to some, at first absurd. This disconnect is because our culture doesn’t tend to cultivate awareness about gravity as much as, perhaps, we should.

If I asked anyone at all to precisely define gravity to me, just as with love, it wouldn’t be easy and it wouldn’t be precise. If I ask you now, to be fully where you are, and observe how gravity feels, after a moment of contemplation, you would have something interesting to say.

For me, now, as I write this, and stop to notice- I realize how much of my body is resisting gravity. I’m sitting in bed, but most of the muscle groups in my body are tensed, holding me in an alert and slightly uncomfortable position to be working on my laptop. I take my hands off the keyboard, move the computer to the side, and spend a few moments moving the joints of my hands, arms, and shoulders in circles. I allow my head to fall to the side, and then down, and slowly bring it back to center, leaning it back against the pillow behind me. I scan my body for any tension, resistance, any muscle activity at all. As I scan, I notice the compression of my pants around my hips, I feel the weight of my dog’s head resting on my ankle, and the subtle pressure of the blanket between us on the rest of my legs. More subtle still, I feel my body settling into the mattress and pillows beneath it, feel myself being pulled to this planet.

This relationship with gravity, this ability to drop the physical tension in my body in an instant is new. A few years ago I took a movement course from Matthew Nelson which completely changed my relationship with gravity and my body. This course came during a time of my life when I was spending a lot of time with my father, a psychologist and author who only ever talked about love, who was dying of pancreatic cancer. The course was a tool that I chose to use during this time to allow me to process and express the deep feelings of dread, longing, confusion, love, and sorrow that come with anticipatory grief. Most of the movement practice had to do with surrendering to gravity, yielding, noticing what it feels like to not be straining, even if just for a moment. The word ‘yield’ was carefully chosen by Matthew in this practice, because of its dual meaning. Yes, it means to surrender, but it also describes harvest. In yielding to gravity with consciousness every day, I was able to begin to understand in an embodied sense what Buckminster Fuller might have been talking about.

I began to know the felt experience of being held gently to my place on this planet, I felt the love that I have for this earth more strongly than ever because I felt that love as a mutuality. Through gravity, I felt the earth as alive and beloved, and that I was beloved by the earth. A poem by Raymond Carver which describes this was pulsing through my heart during this time, and I made art with that poem, writing its words on my heart. I began to felt a deeper commitment to making good use of my time here on this planet. I noticed my anxiety lessen, and my mind expand.

A few months into this practice, I visited the California Institute of Integral Studies to explore the option of a Masters in Cosmology, Consciousness, and Philosophy. While in the building, I had three hours worth of conversations about this beautiful correlation, and learned about the presence of great bands of gravitational waves at the outer edge of our galaxy.

Spiral arm galaxies, like our Milky Way home, are shaped by the forces that make stars. There seem to be vast gravitational arms that spiral through the cosmos, bending space-time, and concentrating space dust into new forms. Sometimes, this results in the precise concentrations of hydrogen and helium atoms needed to begin the process of nuclear fusion, and new stars, new gas giants, new planets and moons begin their cosmic dance.

The most simple interpretation of “love is metaphysical gravity” is that the two invisible forces pull things together.

In Systems Theory terms, the two forces bring about emergent properties, systems that are created from two or more other systems coming into contact. We, for example, are an emergent property of our biological parents, but not only them. We are an emergent property of all of our human ancestors, the cultures they built, the meaning and purpose that fueled them, the love and care they provided their children so that we, one day, would live. We are also an emergent property of the rest of the species of the earth, every single organism that has lived to transform matter on this planet for the last 4.54 billion years. We are also the emergent property of the pulsing, breathing metabolizing forces that have been shaping this cosmos for at least 13.82 billion years.

Every creation is an emergent property, of not just two, but infinite dynamic systems throughout time and space giving rise to all that we know in creation.

Love and gravity both generate the conditions for this creation, and, given time, evolution. I believe that when Bucky wrote “love is metaphysical gravity” he was helping us to understand two different ways that we experience syntropy, the universal force that counterbalances the entropy of an ever expanding universe. Syntropic forces, including love, gravity, life, and evolution, are difficult to identify, because it’s much easier to see when things fall apart (entropy). When things are operating harmoniously, whether they be our bodies, our households, our social networks, or our biosphere, our solar system we hardly notice them.

The forces of syntropy in our lives regenerate chaos back into harmony, they support us in finding meaning and coming home to ourselves. I believe we have the responsibility to understand and embody these principles, not merely to understand them.

To that end, today is Valentine’s Day, and I am committing my life ever deeper to the path of love, and I do not begrudge being held close to the body of this earth. I am grateful you are here with me.

This essay is the beginning of an exploration. This is an invitation to others who feel a connection to both Bucky and Maharaji, or who have been influenced by their teachings. I’d love to hear from people who are living in this same space, who see the ways these legacies continue to shape the world today.

Last week, on the anniversary of Neem Karoli Baba’s Mahasamadhi, something unexpected happened. I had a conversation with Mirabai Bush that opened up a whole new perspective for me. She shared that after Buckminster Fuller’s death, his funeral reception was held at the Cambridge house where she and others from Neem Karoli Baba’s satsang were living at the time. Ram Dass visited that house often, and my father did as well. Hearing that absolutely blew my mind.

For years, I’ve been deeply connected to Buckminster Fuller’s work. His vision of a world that works for 100% of humanity without ecological offense or to the disadvantage of anyone has been a driving force in my life. His ideas have shaped how I see possibility and change in the world. At the same time, I’ve been connected to Neem Karoli Baba’s lineage for as long as I can remember—not just because I was born into a family devoted to him, but because I’ve witnessed how his legacy has truly shaped the world for the better.

One powerful example is how Neem Karoli Baba set Dr. Larry Brilliant on a path that made him instrumental in the eradication of smallpox, one of the greatest public health achievements in human history. And the work didn’t stop there—the SEVA Foundation, which Dr. Brilliant co-founded, has gone on to reverse blindness for countless people in India and Nepal. These are just a couple of the ways Maharaji’s legacy continues to reduce suffering and create meaningful change in the world. The more I reflect on this, the more I see how deeply connected this is to everything Buckminster Fuller taught and worked toward in his life.

What really brought it home was when I saw a photo of Bucky in front of a picture of Neem Karoli Baba in that same house. Seeing that image of these two figures—one whose mind was always reaching toward the future, and the other whose heart was fully present in the now—felt like a revelation. It sparked something in me that’s been unraveling ever since.

The more I sit with this, the more I see how these two have shaped my life, not just in different ways, but in ways that are starting to converge. One of the most powerful links between them is how both were deeply motivated by love—and how grief, in different ways, acted as a doorway to that love.

For Bucky, it was the death of his young daughter that cracked him open. He hit rock bottom and contemplated ending his life, which opened his mind to a profound realization: that his life wasn’t his to end, that his life belonged to the universe. From that moment forward, he devoted himself to the idea of making the world work for everyone. He referred to himself as “guinea pig B,” committing his life to this massive project of love for humanity. That love, born out of grief, became his driving force.

Neem Karoli Baba, on the other hand, lived in a constant state of love. His presence was love. There are many beautiful books written about the effect he had on people, both while he was alive in Miracle of Love and Love Everyone. And even since he died, he keeps showing up in peoples lives in astonishing ways. Many of these stories are recounted in Whisper in the Heart, and the stories continue to be written.

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One thread of connection I am making, is how both of them have helped me to have a clearer and more empowered relationship with Jesus. As a young girl growing up on an Ashram surrounded by churches that demonized us and made us feel unsafe, my relationship with Jesus has not often been easy. (This, despite the fact that there is a beautiful Christ garden on our Ashram and my mother raised us with a deeply interactive and joyful Sunday School to learn both the stories of the Torah and of the New Testament.)

Maharaji would often tell people to go away. Sometimes he would tell them to go away and meditate like Christ, which seems to have confused the westerners who thought they were there for something different. So one day, a devotee asked him how to meditate like Christ. Maharaji stopped, got very still, and tears began to roll down his face. He simply said, “He lost himself in love.” That story has always stayed with me. For Maharaji, love wasn’t just an ideal or a feeling—it was a state of being, a total surrender to something greater than the self.

Buckminster Fuller had a continuous project of rewriting the Lord’s Prayer as a way to deepen into its wisdom. Many people often only learn one rigid version, many times translated by the church, but I learned in my Interspiritual Seminary training that the Lord’s Prayer emerged from a disciple asking Jesus how to pray, and he said, “Like this…“ and spontaneously spoke, in Aramaic, at the time, the original version of the prayer that so many know different versions of.

In Seminary we were given many different translations, as well as a transliteration and phonetic breakdown of what it would have been in the original Aramaic, which I practiced reciting aloud for some time to connect with it more deeply.

So Bucky’s project of continuously rewriting the Lord’s Prayer seems to me to be in the spirit of what Christ was instructing, and from that work came the phrase, Love is Metaphysical Gravity. That concept has become central in my life. It’s this idea that love is what holds everything together—it’s the force that binds us to one another, to the Earth, and to the future. And then there’s Maharaji, who in that moment of weeping over Christ’s love, showed a profound respect and connection to Jesus that’s helped me come into a more open-hearted relationship with him as well.

What’s even more interesting is that as I explore these connections, I’m starting to see how the people devoted to each of their legacies have so much in common. There’s this shared commitment to making the world better—not just through ideas or technology, but through love and service. I think there may be even more overlap between the two than I ever realized, and that’s something I’m just starting to uncover.

The more I reflect on all of this, the more I see these two legacies—Buckminster Fuller and Neem Karoli Baba—not just as separate influences, but as threads that are weaving together in my life. They both, in their own ways, acted as trim tabs—small but powerful forces that have steered the larger ship of humanity toward love and transformation.

This essay is really just the beginning of an exploration. I’m not trying to cover everything here, and I’m sure there’s so much more to uncover. I’m putting this out there as an invitation to others who feel a connection to both Bucky and Maharaji, or who have been influenced by their teachings. I’d love to hear from people who are living in this same space, who see the ways these legacies continue to shape the world today.

Their work isn’t over—it’s still unfolding. And by starting this conversation, I hope we can keep revealing the deeper connections between these two remarkable beings and the love that continues to ripple out through all of us.

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My journey into the regenerative paradigm began in relationship. It started as a curious, gentle thought experiment with my partner at the time, Orion Morton. He was an environmental science student studying restoration ecology, while I was benefitting from deep mentorship with Dr. Mara Schiff a restorative justice scholar, practitioner, speaker, and advocate. Orion and I were both passionate about our respective fields of study and practice, yet deeply frustrated by the limitations of the word “restoration.” It felt disingenuous, implying a return to a previous state of wholeness that, in truth, was often unattainable for the broken and violated systems we were working with.

We were also seeing so many connections between the worlds of Environmental Activism and Social Justice work, but feeling that our peers in these spaces often were at odds with one another, competing for a sense of which was “more important“ and often also competing for resources. We were studying Environmental Justice at the time and seeing just how completely intertwined all of our broken systems are: that the issues of our culture that perpetuate harm along lines of race and class and gender and ability are inextricably connected with the issues of environmental degradation, and that we must approach them all together.

As we discussed our frustrations, we also noted the shortcomings of the word “sustainable.” To us, sustainability was toothless. In an ever changing world, what is ever actually sustainable? We wondered: what if, instead of trying to restore or sustain, we aimed to regenerate? What if, rather than looking backward to an imagined state of perfection or simply preserving what is, we focused on creating conditions for new life and possibilities to emerge?

We wondered: what if, instead of trying to restore or sustain, we aimed to regenerate?

So, we began a thought experiment: every time we encountered the words “restoration” or “sustainable,” we replaced them in our minds with “regenerative.”

This simple mental shift changed everything. It transformed our thought patterns and opened up new ways of seeing solutions and potential. It helped us see that every problem and every possibility was interconnected. We began to recognize how every system of inequality, every ecosystem, every social system, and even our body systems are all deeply entwined.

Regeneration is, in simplest terms, the life-death-life cycle.

All Living Systems are regenerative.

From the tissues of our bodies undergoing autophagy every day, to the life-giving process of decay and decomposition that creates fertile soil, to the releasing of creative ideas to make space for new ones, to the passing and creation of new life within our family systems, to even how releasing old models and norms in business is necessary for long term survival, innovation, and thriving.

A regenerative approach allowed us to compassionately observe the systems and dynamics that have been so harmful for so long, because rather than raging against them, we began to see that they could be composted. Laid to rest. I began to see that if we can find the ways to compost the old systems, the old patterns, that which is decaying and ready to die, we will create fertile ground for new life, new meanings, and new connections to emerge. It wasn’t just about fixing or maintaining but about evolving and transforming. This shift in perspective felt like discovering a new language for understanding and engaging with the world—a language that could hold the complexities and potentials of our time.

However, when that relationship ended, one of the many lines of grief I felt was a sense of isolation in this new worldview. I didn’t really have anyone to talk to about it, but it was pouring out of me. I was also deep in the study of Living Systems Theory, the work of Joanna Macy, and biomimetics, and receiving a great deal of wisdom from my direct relationship with the earth around me. The soil, the mushrooms, the insects, the trees. I wanted to shout from the rooftops about the ways I was seeing things, but I didn’t know how to own my voice yet, and I didn’t know who I could even really speak to about this.

I now have the language of “Visionary Crisis“ from my business partner Dajé Alōh to name what I was going through at the time. Visionary Crisis emerges when you have powerful visions for what can be in the world, but lack the capacity, the relationships, the means, and a pathway to bring that Vision to life. (This is what we are solving for in the Vision Midwifery work we do within The Vision Society.)

It was in this Visionary Crisis that I met Seth Kaufmann, the man who would become my husband, and after just observing and listening to me for a time, one of the first things he said to me was, “Whatever you’re here to do, I want to support it.“ That was a life changing moment for me, and I have felt held and seen and supported by him in countless ways since that day.

I began to share my Regenerative Visions with Seth, which met his incredible expertise in the realm of physiology and kinesiology as well as his passion for human potential and performance, and even more connections began to spark. (Our work together in this field of intersection continues to evolve, we’re actually developing an entire model of regenerative fitness, which you can learn a little big about here.)

A few months after meeting Seth, I met another person who would change my life: David McConville. David and I met at a gathering that I’d been invited to because of my deep relationship with the land it was hosted on. He was invited because he was the Chairman of the Board of the Buckminster Fuller Institute which at the time gave an annual prize to an organization best fulfilling the brief of Bucky’s World Games:

“Make the world work, for 100% of humanity, in the shortest possible time, through spontaneous cooperation, without ecological offense or the disadvantage of anyone.”

This event was the first ever gathering hosted at ChoZen Retreat, sacred land that I was raised on. (ChoZen is now a leading presence in the emerging world of regenerative retreats). This gathering hosted 30 brilliant, visionary people, with no overbearing objective other than deep connection and emergent collaborations. Some of the people there, as they heard me speak, were surprised that they hadn’t met me before, as I was so fluent in the vernacular flowing amongst them. I was surprised as well, with how easy it was to connect around concepts that I had been holding in some degree of isolation for some time. I was asked if I’d studied at this place or another; if I’d been to this conference or another; how much time I’d spent in the Bay Area, etc. My answer to everything was, “no, I spend time in the garden.“

David and I really connected deeply, and he opened my eyes to an entire universe of Regenerative Practitioners around the world already doing the things I was so anxious to get done. I felt such relief.

He gifted me a copy of Regenerative Development and Design from the Regenesis Group, a leading organization of brilliant elders who have been doing this work for a long time. The book had only recently come out, and they had begun a school for Regenerative Practice.

The following day, Seth drove me down to Miami where I was reunited with my father who I hadn’t seen in years as he had been living in India at the mountain Ashram of his Guru, Neem Karoli Baba. My father had just returned to the states when he received a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, and he was scheduled for a whipple surgery the following day.

I read much of this textbook in the hospital courtyard and chapel while my father was undergoing an 11-hour surgery for cancer the next day. The next year was a profound journey through my father’s dying process, during which I found myself confronting another layer of crisis—what I now recognize as “spiritual narcissism.”

My father was an extraordinary man, full of devotion, wisdom, and insight. Yet, despite these qualities, there was often a disconnect between his spiritual ideals and his daily life, especially in his relationships with our family. His ability to channel profound spiritual insight didn’t always translate into a presence of loving, committed relationships. As I grappled with the grief of his impending loss, I also began to see this dynamic mirrored in my own life and in the spiritual community I was raised in—a community founded by a spiritual leader who, despite immense wisdom, exhibited narcissistic and abusive tendencies.

This dual experience—my father’s journey and my reflection on the spiritual community’s dynamics—led me to question what makes it possible for someone to have so much wisdom and still cause harm. Why do these patterns of spiritual insight without relational integrity arise? How can we hold both the light and shadow in our spiritual paths without causing harm to those around us?

In seeking answers, my now-husband Seth and I enrolled in a two-year-long interspiritual seminary. Our core intention was to cultivate spiritual maturity and to learn how to meet those who come to us for guidance with groundedness, humility, and integrity. This seminary, rooted in integral theory, spiral dynamics, trauma, somatics, and a deep study of many spiritual paths, became a crucible for transformation.

Every stage of that seminary process was an opportunity for me to think about regeneration. Whether designing rituals or engaging in spiritual companionship, I found myself drawn again and again to the principles of ecological wisdom and the spiritual dimensions of regeneration. I realized that true regeneration isn’t just about ecological systems; it’s about the subtle, inner patterns that shape our world—the spiritual, the interpersonal, the inner work that supports the larger systemic change-making needed in our world.

This journey taught me that to serve the integrity of the regenerative movement, we must attend to these subtle dimensions. We must support the spiritual, inner, and interpersonal work that underpins systemic change. That is what I am here to do: to weave together the threads of spiritual maturity, relational integrity, and ecological wisdom, to support the larger regenerative movement, and to remind others—and myself—that we are not alone.

This year has brought my journey full circle. After years of growth and exploration, I graduated from the Regenesis Group’s Regenerative Practitioner Series—a program I had known about since David gave me that book all those years ago. The timing had to be right; my own development needed to unfold in its own way. As I completed the program, one of the most profound lessons I learned was the importance of “friends in the work.”

My teachers emphasized that no meaningful change happens by an individual acting alone. Systemic change requires collaboration, and friends in the work are essential not just for organizing and being effective in our broader efforts but also as mirrors and reflections for our internal work. These friends are there to support us in our personal growth, to help us see our blind spots, and to encourage us to continue evolving.

In nature, nothing regenerates in isolation. The very process of composting, for example, is a dance of relationships. It is about connection, exchange, and mutualism. The decaying matter, microbes, fungi, and invertebrates all work together in a complex network of interactions to break down organic material and create fertile soil. This same principle applies to the body: our cells regenerate through a constant exchange of nutrients, oxygen, and waste, all facilitated by the relationships between our bodily systems. Even soil regeneration is about the intricate relationships between plants, fungi, bacteria, and countless other organisms.

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Reflecting on these natural processes has made me realize that I, too, have exhibited a form of visionary narcissism. For years, I thought I could just give and give to the people, organizations, and communities I loved and believed in without asking for anything in return. I assumed that I would receive support naturally, without needing to articulate or honor my own needs. This was a form of narcissism—a belief that I could exist outside the reciprocal, relational dynamics that underpin all healthy ecosystems.

Over time, I’ve learned the importance of knowing what I need, asking for it, and allowing myself to be resourced. This process of maturation has helped me realize that the effectiveness of my work and the depth of my relationships grow in direct proportion to how well I am supported and resourced. This has been a challenging lesson, especially as someone raised on an ashram and who has been critical of capitalism. But I’ve come to understand that resource exchange—especially through money—can make healthy relationships more possible. It creates a clear structure for support, value, and mutual respect, which is vital, especially now as a mother, when my time is precious, and my commitment to regenerative work is deeper than ever.

Today, I continue to engage deeply with this work. I regularly meet with my beloved cohort of regenerative practitioners, where we act as friends in the work, supporting each other in our growth and efforts. Next week, I will meet with some of my clients—leaders in the regenerative world—who I am beginning to support with this deeper, subtle work. It’s an honor and a homecoming to step more formally into the role of counselor and supporter for these leaders, helping them cultivate the depth, integrity, and resilience needed for the regenerative changes they seek to make.

Since those early days of exploring regenerative thinking, I’ve come to understand that no one makes change alone. Regenerative practice is inherently interdependent. It thrives on community, collaboration, and the recognition that we are all part of a larger whole. This work is not about individual heroes making grand changes in isolation; it’s about a collective effort, woven from countless connections and relationships.

The three lines of development in regenerative practice—personal growth, relational dynamics, and systemic impact—are all interwoven. Each supports and is supported by the others. As I continued my journey, I realized the importance of doing my own inner work, cultivating authentic relationships, and understanding the real-world challenges of regenerative work.

Through this process, I also found a personal touchstone in an unexpected place: a song. When my son was a newborn, I began singing “No One Is Alone” from Into the Woods to him as a lullaby. The lyrics,

You are not aloneBelieve meNo one is alone (no one is alone)Believe meTruly

People make mistakesFathers, mothersPeople make mistakesHolding to their ownThinking they're aloneHonor their mistakesEverybody makesOne another's terrible mistakesWitches can be right, giants can be goodYou decide what's right, you decide what's good

Just remember, just rememberSomeone is on your side (our side)Our sideSomeone else is notWhile we're seeing our side (our side)Our sideMaybe we forgot, they are not aloneNo one is aloneSomeone is on your sideNo one is alone

This song has become more than just a soothing presence at bedtime, it’s an embodied reminder of our interdependence. No one is alone.

In regenerative practice, and in life, we need friends in the work. We need allies who will challenge us, support us, and remind us that our visions are not ours alone to carry. They are shared dreams, born of collective wisdom and nurtured through shared effort. Together, we have the capacity to transform not only our own lives but the world around us.

As you navigate your own path, remember: You are not alone. No one is alone. And together, we can create the change we wish to see in the world.

I'll close by sharing that as I continue to deepen into this work, I am opening a couple of spots of, of one-on-one work at a couple of different levels of price points experimentally to see what works, seeking to strike a balance between what I can offer that is as generous and accessible to others as possible while also feeling like a healthy boundary for myself. 

I always seek to structure anything that I do in business to be deeply aligned with my own values, which means that it's often experimental and iterative. So if you are connecting with my work and are interested in receiving some one-on-one support, I would be more than happy and honored to talk with you about what that can look like. 

Finally, I want to just encourage all of us to remember the context that we are moving within. Remember that we have many different friends and allies and guides and teachers available to us, not just among the humans that were in connection with, but everywhere around us throughout the living world.

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Note: This is an original piece of writing by me, Ganga Devi Braun. However, it would not have come to life without the thought partnership of my husband, Seth Kaufmann, who has developed brilliant frameworks for dynamic masculinity from a trauma-informed, multidimensional perspective. His insights have opened my eyes to the immense compassion and potential within men and men’s work, and because of his contributions, he is listed as a collaborator on this piece.

This is a letter to men. (But if you know men, especially if you love men and believe in their potential, this can also be for you.)

For many years now, there has been an essential, often imperfect conversation about patriarchy and patriarchal systems—a conversation that is long overdue. When we don’t have language for something that’s real, something called hypocognition happens—it’s when we lack the words to articulate an experience, and therefore struggle to fully understand or address it. It’s crucial to name and recognize the things that would otherwise be hard to see. (Gratitude to my teacher Kelly Diels for giving me this language!)

Right now, patriarchy is making a massive power grab, manifesting through movements like Christian nationalism and autocratic technocracy, seeking to control everyone—especially women’s bodies—in the most vile ways. This is in full force in the powers behind the current Trump candidacy (if you don’t know who Peter Theil or Curtis Yarvin are, look them up). Patriarchy is also present in the violent war machine, and it manifests differently across cultures: in the United States, it shows up in ways that are harmful and pervasive, for example in places like Iran and Afghanistan, it takes the form of gender apartheid with devastating consequences.

I want to be very clear: these are the waters we’re all swimming in, and we’re all wet. Patriarchy is a system that lives through all of us. Some are more oppressed than others, suffering different forms of violence and control. But it is violent and controlling toward everyone, including those who “benefit” from it. Let’s be honest, in the truest sense no one benefits from a system that suppresses and controls freedom, including and especially the freedom to feel. However, and this is crucial—it’s not who we are. These patterns might show up in our lives, but they don’t define us. We all have choices. You have choices.

What if, instead of viewing patriarchy as a machine that controls everything or a poison inside all men, we took a different approach? What if we saw it through the lens of living systems? Imagine liberating yourself from patriarchal patterning with a mindset that recognizes the natural processes of entropy and syntropy—letting old, harmful patterns die and making space for new, healthier ones.

Take a moment to connect with your breath. Feel the in-breath, an act of gathering energy, up-regulating your nervous system—this is syntropy, forces coming together. Now feel the exhale, the release, downregulating—this is entropy, letting go. Your body already knows this dance of life. By bringing these unconscious processes into consciousness, you can learn to engage them intentionally, transforming not only yourself but the world around you.

Buckminster Fuller said, “You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the old model obsolete.” Think of this as our challenge. We can create new ways of being that make the old ways—those that limit and harm us—obsolete.

I’ve seen this transformation in men I know and work with, including my husband and my clients. These men are devoted to their families and to being a genuine force of goodness in the world. They are committed to unlearning and repatterning the dynamics of patriarchy. This message is for you, for all men on this journey. Change is possible when you embrace the rhythm of release and repatterning.

A Multidimensional View

Let’s talk about how patriarchy shows up in three key dimensions: institutional (which can also be viewed through an intergenerational lens), interpersonal, and internal. These layers help us understand the ways patriarchal patterns manifest and how deeply they can run through every aspect of life.

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1. Institutional (Intergenerational) Dimension

At the institutional level, patriarchy is embedded in the systems and structures that shape our societies, such as laws, educational practices, economic policies, and cultural norms. These systems perpetuate gender inequalities and often place men in positions of power as the default while marginalizing everyone else. Patriarchy is passed down through generations, teaching each one to follow the same patterns, whether through direct indoctrination or the subtle reinforcement of “traditional” roles. This is the intergenerational aspect—how the norms and behaviors tied to patriarchy are inherited and normalized over time, creating a cycle that can seem impossible to break.

2. Interpersonal Dimension

On an interpersonal level, patriarchy manifests in our relationships with others. It shows up in the dynamics of power and control, often dictating how you interact, how you communicate, and certainly how you love. It can lead to dominance in relationships, expectations of emotional stoicism, or assumptions about gender roles in households and workplaces. These patterns affect your friendships, romantic partnerships, and family dynamics, often causing harm and perpetuating a lack of genuine connection and empathy.

3. Internal Dimension

Internally, patriarchy manifests in how we view ourselves and our roles in the world. It’s in the inner critic that tells men you must be strong, unemotional, and always in control. It’s the guilt or shame men might feel for not living up to these impossible standards. It’s the suppression of emotions and the fear of vulnerability that keeps many men from fully expressing yourselves. These internalized beliefs can be some of the hardest to recognize and unlearn because they feel so personal and ingrained.

Understanding these three dimensions of patriarchy helps us see that while these patterns are pervasive, they are not immutable. They are not who you are—they are simply learned behaviors and systems that we can choose to change.

Entropy and Syntropy

Think of entropy and syntropy as two natural forces that are always at play in life. Entropy is about breaking down—letting go of the parts of yourself that don’t fit anymore, the old beliefs and behaviors that are ready to die. It’s like the forest in autumn, shedding what’s no longer needed to make way for new growth.

Syntropy, on the other hand, is about creation. It’s the energy that brings new life from the old, that transforms decay into fertile ground for something fresh and vibrant. In your life, syntropy is about choosing to embody new values and ways of being that align more closely with who you truly want to be.

This is the rhythm of life, and it’s already happening in you with every breath you take: the in-breath gathers, the out-breath releases. When you tune into this natural cycle, you can apply it to your personal growth, learning to let go of what holds you back and embrace what moves you forward.

Repatterning

Each of us has a responsibility to look closely at how the systems we live within show up in our lives. This includes recognizing the patterns we’ve inherited from institutions, the intergenerational dynamics passed down from our ancestors, and the culture we were raised in. These influences can be hard to see, especially when we’re still immersed in them. It’s often much easier to notice the flaws in other cultures and people than to see them in ourselves.

But here’s the thing: even in the areas where we feel we lack privilege or think we’re not part of the problem, there’s often deeper work to do. It’s humbling to realize this—I think about how many white women supported Donald Trump in 2016, even though he’s been incredibly clear about the kind of man he is, the way he treats women, and the policies that have unfolded, drastically and devastatingly reducing the civil liberties of so many people across this country. It reminds me that no one is exempt from this work. We all have repatterning to do.

Your journey is unique. You are shaped by countless choices, stories, and ancestors, each influencing who you are today. This complexity can’t be distilled into simple categories based on gender, race, or demographics although all of these things intersect and shape who we are. You are so much more than that. You deserve an approach to repatterning that is as unique and dynamic as you are.

In my work, I’ve found that what really matters is diving deep with each individual person—understanding the unique nuances of your ancestry, your childhood, and the experiences that have shaped you. This gives us rich, clear material to work with, so we can approach the repatterning process honestly and courageously. It’s about creating a space where you can let go of old patterns that don’t serve you and embrace new ones that align with who you truly want to be.

Repatterning isn’t a one-size-fits-all process. It’s about finding your rhythm—composting the old patterns that hold you back and nurturing the new ones that help you grow. Every breath you take is a reminder of this process. Every decision you make to embrace or release is an opportunity to repattern your life. By doing this work, you not only transform yourself, but you also contribute to a broader transformation in the world.

The Challenges of Change

As you begin this work, you might find that within the institutions you belong to, the relationships you have, and even within your own inner narrative, you come up against resistance to change. These familiar patterns often represent places where you’ve found safety, identity, and belonging in the past. It’s natural to feel a pull to stay within these comfort zones, even when you know they no longer serve your growth or align with who you want to become.

This is why it’s so important to approach this work with compassion and not to do it alone. When you’re lovingly held and witnessed in your transformation, the process of repatterning can deepen. Accountability is crucial here—not in a punitive or judgmental way, but as a commitment to your higher self, to the person you are becoming.

Sometimes, this accountability is hard to maintain within the confines of your existing relationships. Even those closest to you, like a spouse, might resist your changes, not because they don’t want you to grow, but because they are accustomed to the way things have been. They may not even love all the patterns, but they’re familiar with them, and familiarity can feel like safety.

This is why having support and guidance outside of your daily existence is so essential for doing this kind of repatterning work. It provides a space where you can be truly seen, where your transformation is encouraged and nurtured. When you have a safe environment to explore these changes, you can start to let go of the old patterns that no longer serve you and embrace the new ones that do.

Regenerative change isn’t about perfection; it’s about potential. You might encounter setbacks or find yourself slipping into old habits, and that’s okay. What matters is your commitment to keep moving forward, to be gentle with yourself when things don’t go perfectly, and to stay open to the journey. This work is about creating a life that feels aligned with your true, whole, authentic self, a life where you can thrive in all your relationships and within yourself. From that place, new futures, new worlds are made possible.

Creating New Models of Masculinity

I want to genuinely ask you: What does a repatterned masculinity look like to you? What does a dynamic masculinity feel like? What does it mean for masculinity to be responsive, caring, and present? We often talk about toxic masculinity and can easily identify its traits—dominance, suppression, emotional unavailability. But what about the masculinity we want to see in the world? What does that look like for you?

Let’s take a moment to really get clear on this. If we don’t have the language for something, it’s hard to fully grasp its potential. This is where hypocognition comes into play again: when we lack the words to articulate an experience, we struggle to recognize it as real. The potential for a healthy, dynamic masculinity is real, but we have to make it so. We have to be committed to it.

Imagine a masculinity that embraces vulnerability as strength, that finds power in empathy, and leadership in service. A masculinity that values collaboration over competition, that nurtures relationships instead of dominating them. This is the kind of masculinity that aligns with the principles of syntropy and entropy—letting go of what no longer serves us and actively cultivating what does.

This isn’t just about redefining masculinity; it’s about reshaping humanity as a whole. By choosing to repattern yourself, you’re helping to create a world where everyone can thrive. You’re not just building a different model; you’re building a better one, one that honors the interconnectedness of all living systems and reflects the best of who we can be.

So, what kind of man do you want to be? What kind of world do you want to help create? These are the questions we must ask ourselves, and we must be willing to do the work to find the answers. The change starts with you, with each of us, embracing the rhythm of release and repatterning, and committing to a masculinity that is as dynamic, compassionate, and authentic as we are capable of becoming.

Participating in Evolution

You are here because of billions of years of evolution, and every choice you make is part of that ongoing dance of life. As a species, we live within and have created systems and patterns that shape our world, but we are not bound by them. All living systems are interconnected, and the changes you make in your life have the power to ripple out in ways you might never fully understand.

I’m inviting you to recognize the power you have to influence these patterns. By choosing to let go of what no longer serves you and embracing what does, you’re not just changing yourself—you’re contributing to the evolution of humanity and the planet. The potential for a healthy, dynamic masculinity is real, but it requires each of us to commit to creating it. We have to be willing to let go of the old and nurture the new, to envision and embody the kind of masculinity that is caring, responsive, and present.

Thank you so much for reading this. Would be open to sharing it with someone who came to mind as you were reading?

Regenerative practice requires that we approach everything from a perspective of potential, rather than problem-solving. This subtle shift changes everything.

This episode is an excerpt from a private podcast feed hosted exclusively within The Vision Society, a mastermind and incubation community for spirit-led founders building vision amidst global polycrisis.

In this series, Ganga Devi and Dajé Aloh, aka The Story Doula are weaving their respective wisdom threads around the Seven Principles of Regeneration, originally articulated by Carol Sanford.

They share insights on how to shift from problem-solving to potential-focused strategies in small and micro businesses. This episode gives listeners a glimpse into the ongoing experiments within the Vision Society, where the principles of regeneration are applied to business development.

The episode emphasizes the uniqueness and limitlessness of potential within living systems, and how these concepts can be practically applied to entrepreneurial settings. Ganga and Daje provide actionable advice on nurturing potential in environments that are often challenging. They stress the importance of rooting into one's ecosystem, the necessity of gratitude, and the power of structural support and discernment. This content-rich episode is not just a theoretical dive but offers concrete steps for actualizing regenerative principles in daily life.

Key Takeaways:

* Potential is Unique and Limitless: Every person or project holds unique and boundless potential, which can be realized under the right conditions.

* Rooting into Your Ecosystem: Effective growth in both personal and professional realms requires strong connections within one's wider environment and community.

* Boundaries and Discernment: Setting boundaries and having high standards for yourself and your environment are crucial for nurturing and realizing potential.

* Gratitude as a Tool: Regularly practicing gratitude helps you focus on the supportive elements of your current environment, empowering further growth.

* Embracing Life's Challenges: Rather than viewing challenges as setbacks, consider them essential growth opportunities within the life-death-life cycle.

Resources:

* The Vision Society

* Carol Sanford

* Regenesis Group

* The Inner Circle (Free Private Community)

Note: This was originally published on Medium, Dec 17, 2018. This core phrase has been resounding in my mind recently again, so I thought I’d revisit this piece and I’m so glad I did.

“This is a new life, and I am not afraid.”

Walking along the dirt road path between my home and the temples of Kashi Ashram, the community in which I was raised, the steady rhythm of my footsteps gave rise to this sentence. All I could hear in my mind were these words, “this is a new life, and I am not afraid, this is a new life, and I am not afraid, this is a new life, and I am not afraid.” This became a prayer I breathed as if it were an oxygen mask handed to me as I was drowning in an ocean of sorrow.

At the time, I had just come through months of grief and solitude following a painful two years of severe emotional and sexual trauma. For five months, I had retreated into solitude, become friends with my own company, reclaimed my sovereignty, and let go of most of my ideas of who I was and where I was going in life. There is beauty and terror in such times.

I did everything possible to release old versions of myself. I gave clothes away, I shaved my head, I released treasured books, I changed positions at work, I lived with new roommates, I lost friends, I stopped going out, I bought myself a big bed, and I stayed in it most of the time. I became acquainted with the tenderness of my raw and vulnerable self, heart cracked open, drinking deeply of the well of grief.

On hard nights, I felt my body and heart wracked with terror and pain, not knowing how to cope with any of my fears, and I would numb myself often with at least three episodes of Star Trek. On good nights I focused on discovering what pleasure I truly desired, which often looked like long hot showers, oiling and blessing my body, and expanding my mind by watching at least three episodes of Star Trek. It’s curious how thin the line between depressive self indulgence and tender loving self-care can be. The primary medicine for my wounds were daily walks to the Sarasota Bay where I watched and photographed the light on the water at sunset.

These times of withdrawal, grief, and seclusion come to pass in our lives, and we rarely see them as a blessing. Grief is a sledgehammer that cracks open the structure of our lives and leaves us feeling naked in wide open spaces we never knew existed in ourselves. These spaces are frightening and full of possibility, full of glass shards and diamonds. In order to harvest the blessings, we must stop running, get low to the ground, and look carefully at the wreckage around us. Until we do this, we cannot know what will cut us and what will turn into riches beyond imagination.

It’s hard to feel gratitude for anything so brutal as grief when we are immersed in it. I was fortunate to have four walls around me to retreat to, and grateful that my classes and work schedule were such that I was able to spend much time alone. This was four years ago, and I am writing about old grief because I am still navigating the pain and potential of the intense grief I feel from the deaths of my father and one of my most respected elders this summer. Their passing from this life profoundly transformed my understanding of my place in this world. I am still bringing patience, breath, and light to the far corners of the places inside of myself that this grief has cracked open.

We cannot know who we will be on the next edge of life’s spiraling evolutions, and we cannot predict what loss and sorrow we will be faced with next. We can, however choose to seek to understand our selves, to go into the frightening places and bring our love with us, to be willing to allow our being to grow into these wide open spaces, to clean them up and make of them a new home, a new being, a new life. We can transcend and include all of our life’s experiences as we grow into the full potential our lives have to offer us.

This is a new life, and I am not afraid.

I say this to myself now on the border of my twenty-sixth year, while resting in a garden with the sun on my face. I say it with you, whoever you are, on the border of our new year on this garden-planet with the sun on her face.

We have an unknowable amount of grief and beauty and living ahead of us. May we remember that we are in it together, and may we explore the open possibilities of existence together during beautiful, brief shared time and space that we have on this earth.

The Living World is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

This episode explores the transformative power of leaving and returning home. Reflecting on recent travels to New Mexico, professional partnerships, challenges of motherhood, and the profound learning of regenerative culture, Ganga Devi delves into themes of migration, systemic change, and personal growth. Discover how life's redirections can lead to deeper self-connection and creative fulfillment. Featuring a reading of Mary Oliver's "Crossing the Swamp." Whether you're navigating new paths or seeking home, this episode offers wisdom and inspiration for the journey.

Resources + References

* Multidimensional Thriving: Seth Kaufman's Substack, specifically the article “From Shadow to Light”.

* Regenesis Institute: The school of regenerative development and design which Ganga Devi has been studying within.

* Story Doula (Daje Aloh)

* Paulo Coelho’s "The Alchemist": A key literary reference mentioned by Ganga.

* Bill Plotkin’s "Nature and the Human Soul"