Thoughts on patterns.

What is the pattern that connects the crab to the lobster and the primrose to the orchid, and all of them to me, and me to you? — Gregory Bateson

Patterns in the world often seem beautifully coincidental, but they are not. Nature has a wise way of connecting everything with purpose and intent; nothing is an accident. While humans depend on nature for survival, that does not mean we are free from threats. Perhaps that is why we are social creatures—we watch out for each other and survive together. Like many plants and animals, we have found strength in adaptation and community. This pattern of interdependence weaves an intricate tapestry for survival.

When I think of humans as socially dependent beings, I feel both admiration and disappointment. Admiration for our ability to build meaningful relationships and disappointment in the lack of care and compassion we often show toward them. This disappointment led me to explore social design as a practice.

Humans like to talk, but they love to be heard. And there lies a crucial difference. We hear conversations around us all the time, but how often do we truly listen to understand, rather than just listening to respond?

A significant memory comes to mind—a conversation I had on a perfect summer’s day. It was mid-July, and I sat under a clear sky by a lakeside dock, surrounded by blues and greens reflected in the lake’s still waters. The most striking green was that of the sugar maple tree, native to Ontario, Canada. I sipped my coffee and felt a gentle breeze.

The wind unsettled the surface of the lake and ran through the trees. The rustling of leaves is one of my favorite sounds, and so I decided to listen to the conversation between the wind, the lake, and the trees. The wind spoke of the many places it had traveled and the sights it had seen. The lake thanked the wind for bringing back the warmth, allowing it to thaw from winter and return to its flowing state. The trees spoke of a blooming spring, offering gratitude to the lake for its water, which brought them back to life. They were forming a pattern of connection. I felt goosebumps. Something had shifted. I felt present.

Only later did I learn that what I was practicing was something called Generative Listening. Otto Scharmer, a researcher, defines it as listening to connect with emerging future possibilities in a moment. It is listening with the awareness that I am connected to something bigger than myself. When you listen generatively—to people, animals, and plants—you begin to see their future potential.

How do trees remain resilient through winter? How do wild animals survive harsh conditions? They listen to their environments. They are in sync with their surroundings. This thread of generative listening weaves the pattern of survival.

Thinking back to that conversation with nature, I experienced a quiet yet profound transformation. A hidden part of the world had revealed itself to me, just as an authentic sense of self had emerged from within. The two connected, and I had changed. There was a deep sense of knowing—of who I was and what linked me to my purpose.

A flood of memories surfaced; the eucalyptus tree in my high school, the banyan trees in my hometown, the neem outside my bedroom window, and now the maple trees in my new home. I had been in conversation with trees all along. I couldn’t help but feel an extraordinary connection to everything around me.

I have always been fascinated by space and the mysteries of the universe. I often think of astronauts who return home after spending time in outer space. Frank White coined the term The Overview Effect to describe the cognitive shift in awareness experienced by some astronauts when they see Earth from space. Many describe a permanent shift in perspective, a newfound understanding of the interconnectedness of life.

This is also the goal of generative listening—to expand the mind, to see that the world is much bigger than our individual existence. There is awe in witnessing the planet’s breathtaking beauty. When we step back to see the bigger picture, we experience a sense of smallness that is nothing short of magic. Feeling small allows us to recognize patterns, connections, and the fragility of it all.

When I listen to people, I seek deeper connections. For that to happen, I must break down the walls of cognitive bias and acknowledge my own privilege. This is why I love generative listening. It helps me confront my assumptions and brings me closer to meaningful relationships.

This is nature’s wisdom, to sense, listen and become one with our surroundings.

The organic ways of merging, adapting, and evolving inspire me to do the same. Once the mind is freed from assumptions, vulnerability emerges, revealing new possibilities for connection.

Social change happens at a deeper level when we start listening to the patterns that create life. As I begin my journey into social design, I hope to build my practice through the simple yet profound act of listening to the moment. As Marc Rettig once said in his mixtape, Listening is applied love.

What patterns have shaped your path, and how might they be inviting you to grow?