Patterns of a revolution

Last week I heard adrienne maree brown (on this podcast) talk about satisfiability. She said: "All the people who have too much are not satisfied. So that clearly is not a winning strategy”.

And yes, we ('who have too much') are trained for 'unsatisfiability'.

Our (economic) systems are designed to constantly feel like happiness is just around the corner, aliveness álmost within reach.

And it works, as long as we believe we need to look outside ourselves. If we keep reaching into the future, longing to feel safe and nourished, learn and grow, love and belong, contribute and feel part of a bigger whole.

I wonder what role this plays in the way we reach for answers right now. In the way we look (as we are trained) outside ourselves for answers: to products, solutions, inventions, policies, anything -to solve the existential crisis we are in.

Yes, we do need to reimagine our societies, our economics, all these large, complex systems 'out there' (and hopefully we can apply our -technological- knowledge to support it).

And also, we may have to return to our innate, true, human (living being) needs. What makes us feel alive? Connected, nourished, loved, creative, sparked?

What makes us feel satisfied?

I love how Kees Klomp (on Linkedin) suggests to look not only into the future to imagine 'utopia' but to see all the ways in which 'the new' is already happening in 'the now'.

It reminded me of Amahra Spence speaking at 'Making the System Shift', saying: "The future is now, and the great rehearsal has already started”. (in the System Innovation learning festival)

What if we not only recognise the incredible initiatives and pioneers that are out there (around the globe) to help us live, eat, work, care or learn in ways that reconnect us with our true needs, instead of keeping us in the loop of 'not-enough-ness'.

But also, look in the 'now' of our own lives, for moments in which we feel fulfilled.

This brings me to a moment a couple of weeks back. Where I sat on a bench with one of my best friends. She struggles with her health and we have had to adjust our hikes in nature, luxurious hours to talk, laugh, cry. The walks are now shorter, her energy more limited.

But there we sat, on a bench (with a longer break than we took 'in full health') with home-brew coffee (buzzing cafés now an energy drain) and we both felt like ourselves, like us. We brought 'our thing': nature, sharing, being together, into the present moment. And even though it was different, 'smaller', it was there. We could feel it.

And it felt like enough.

We were satisfied.

So this is maybe what it feels like to rehearse for the future. We experience, both remember and imagine, a different way.

And in that, we feel the possibility. Not because we believe it will be out there, if only we reach far enough.

But because we feel it.

Here, right now.