The Alchemist's Allotment

Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius — and a lot of courage — to move in the opposite direction.”  E.F. Schumacher, Small is Beautiful

If we find ourselves lost, retracing our steps to where feels familiar is not retreating; it is orientation. Navigating from a map we do not trust is worse than having no map at all, and the difference between a stream of invective and curiosity is a deep breath.

So at a time when invective is the weapon of choice of those who choose fear as a leadership strategy, a deep breath seems like a good idea. 

In our conversation last week, we talked about The Athanor in terms of fluidity, weaving, thinking and exploring. Somewhere doers speak about discovery, the skilful unpacking of issues, sensing, and creating the equivalent of fertile soil in which ideas can germinate and thrive. We talked about ships and campfires as metaphors, and the importance of cadence and community of practice as disciplines.

Having let the conversation settle in my mind, I want to suggest a different metaphor that I hope captures the energy of what we talked about. 

Allotments.

Allotments have provided space in the UK for people to grow their own fruits, vegetables and plants since Anglo-Saxon times. They were, and remain, spaces for people to grow what they need outside the process restrictions of work and the domestic restrictions of home. They provide room to pause and breathe. 

Allotments are a great example of communities of practice, where individuals follow their own interests within a support network that shares resources, teaching, ideas, experiments, and produce.

We see something similar in other countries, where olive presses and wineries serve as community resources for smallholders. They are meeting places where those with very different occupations meet in a space of shared interest, and in many ways reflect the nature of an Athanor - where the energies of shared conversation and motivation bring different perspectives into close proximity, expose them to serendipity, and provide opportunities to create the novel.

Steve Done showed me a good example when he introduced me to “The Initiates”, a graphic novel by Etienne Davodeau, which recounts the story of a graphic artist and a winemaker who teach each other their skills in shared practice. I loved it, and it has a place here I think. It is a good metaphor for what we might do.

So, from structure to thoughts on practice. 

I think the idea of individual plots in close proximity is useful. We each have different facial interests - AI, Human and Animal Health, Technology, Coaching and Psychology, all of which are valuable “plots” in their own right. I find there is real value in these diverse perspectives in the way they trigger difference and generative friction (“The Initiates” is a great example).

The idea of The Athanor - steady heat over time sits well with the nature of the seasons and conditions needed for growing produce, and thoughts of olive presses and wineries sit well with what we might do together by combining with what we each produce.

How might we think of this?

Individual Plots, Shared Ground: we each have our own territory within the larger space; perhaps a specific question we’re exploring, a particular transition we’re navigating, or something we’re developing and doing it in each other's company, in conversation, and in our own way. 

The Athanor, Shared Resource: We have a tremendous amount of experience, ability and originality in the group, all of it available to us. It’s a powerful notion. Shades of the Lunar Society, and giving space to "The Quiet Before", where ideas gather and form, waiting for the opportunity to emerge.

Parallel Practice, Learning Together: There’s something powerful about working our own patch whilst others work theirs nearby, and we witness different approaches, timings, and choices. Not only do we have each other, but we also have the perspective of those we work with - something I want to explore in my work on networks. 

Curation, Natural Knowledge Exchange and collection: On allotments, knowledge transfers informally. Metaphorically, “over the fence, during a break, when someone notices your beans are thriving or your tomatoes are struggling”. It’s peer learning at its purest.

There will be other benefits, and no doubt some drawbacks. I think the important thing is to create a space for growth where we can go beyond conversation and into practice, whatever that means for each of us. And, of course, to start.

That feels like far enough for the moment. I'll open Zoom at 5:00pm UK tomorrow, Wednesday 10th, and we can go from there.