stories Archives - Regenerative Storytelling

Doing community regeneratively

A photo taken by Aden shows the regenerative community of Tarbert - a row of pink, blue and white houses reflected in the water of the harbour, and green hills in the background.

Community — what does it look like for you? It’s something that I keep thinking about as we travel and stay in different places. What sort of community/communities do I want to be part of? To invest emotionally. To cheer on. To rely upon.

Island communities buying land together (rural Scotland). Knitting groups and wellbeing walks in the city (central London). Wild swimming Wednesdays (Sheffield). In-person. Online. WhatsApp groups. There are many ways to do community.

Here are three examples that I’ve glimpsed upon recently. Each has regenerative aspects.

Community-owned castle: Inner Hebrides of western Scotland

We were staying near a small pretty harbour town called Tarbert (see above photo). It’s got a ruined castle: not unusual in this part of the world! The signage proudly describes how Tarbert Castle Heritage Park is ’owned by the community and entirely cared for by volunteers.’

They do the fun stuff: senior pupils from Tarbert Academy illustrated Medieval characters on the historical displays; and the less fun stuff: picking up litter and emptying waste bins.

As a way to increase biodiversity of the castle ruins, the community have created a woodland and orchard, and own a flock of Hebridean sheep to keep the grass cut. They’ve partnered with a local supermarket and rely on donations to ‘achieve their sustainable maintenance plan’.

I like the fact that the community are flipping the script on ownership and how well they’ve thought it through (including using sheep to regenerate the land). Their sense of pride is palpable. Even as a passing visitor, you sense it.

Community buy-out: Island of Gigha

Not far from Tarbert is the tiny island of Gigha (pronounced Gere, as in Richard). Scotland is notorious for absentee landlords. When the entire island came up for sale in 2001, the islanders clubbed together to buy it.

With support from grants and loans from the Scottish government (via the National Lottery and another enterprise), they raised the millions of pounds required. From soup ‘n’ sandwich days to quiz nights and ‘sponsored rows around the island’ they made their vision a reality. According to the Gigha website, this put them ‘in the vanguard of the Scottish land reform movement.’

Clearly, they needed a structure and proper governance to make it work. The Isle of Gigha Heritage Trust was formed. Its aim: to promote ‘community regeneration, employment and sustainability.’

‘The Island is part of me’

Island life might not be perfect. But this short clip gives you a flavour — watch it for the hypnotic Scottish accent. When we spent the day there (travelling via ferry), we were lucky to get a table at the renowned restaurant on the island, the Boathouse. The campsite was busy and so was the tourist trade.

The islanders have overhauled run-down housing and the population decline has been reversed. Plus, they have a viable long-term income through their four wind turbines, selling renewable energy to the mainland grid with all profits ploughed back into the Trust. (According to their website, back in 2004, Gigha was ‘the first community-owned grid-connected windfarm in Scotland.’)

Regeneration: creating a sense of care in the community

According to an article on the Seeds of Good Anthropocenes, not only has ‘community ownership built local self-confidence…. It’s changed the way people on Gigha relate to nature and one another.’ This speaks to the regenerative quality of care. So much easier to care about where we live if we have a vested interest in the place itself. (Another way we talk about this in regen is ‘place-sourced potential’: a bit jargon-ny, I know.)

Green spaces and heatmaps

We left Scotland reluctantly. But now my husband Aden and I are finding our ‘London legs’, staying in Bloomsbury. Just in the past day, I’ve seen a host of signs that point to the community initiatives here. From the Marchmont Community Centre to ‘improve the quality of life of local residents’, to farmers markets (everywhere in London these days, like in Sydney), to awareness about heatmaps. (Inevitably the less green in a city, the hotter they become. You can chart the hot-spots through heatmaps.)

City community does things differently. In central London the garden squares create a focal point. I’ve missed Bloomsbury’s ‘tell the stories behind the trees’ event. But I’m signing up for the ‘wellbeing walk’ to increase my weekly step count. Last night our lovely 94-y-o neighbour, Betty, invited us for drinks. (Lovely, as we are only here a week!) She told us ALL about the colourful characters she’s known living here since 1976.

Each place has certainly given me ideas on how I want to see communities thrive.

What about you? How does community feed and nourish your life and work? Thoughts? Stories?

Hi, I’m Claire. Through my business Wordstruck we help companies bring their sustainability strategy to life. As the Founder of Regenerative Storytelling, we’re helping leaders do more for their people, their community and the planet. I publish regular content about storytelling, regenerative leadership and reframing how to address our rapidly heating world. To see more of my content, please sign up – and join the conversation by sharing a comment below.

Why Stories About Climate Change Need a Hook

Catrina Davies reading from the start of her third book based on the recollections of Hedley Ralph Collard. Why Stories About Climate Change need a hook. She sits in a small marquee on a seat, with a guitar to the right of her.

Finding an emotional hook is the first place I start when crafting a story. Now, as I’m getting knee-deep into my next book, I’m grappling with how to do that when writing about two big, abstract topics: climate change and regeneration.

In May, I caught up with my literary agent. She was clear: ‘You need people to care about the climate in an emotional way. Read this.’

She thrust a hardback book into my hands. Once upon a Raven’s Nest by Catrina Davies. It’s beautiful and sits (unopened) on my desk like a talisman. Meanwhile, I pace around, drinking too many cups of earl grey as I try to find this illusive ‘hook’.

Meeting author Catrina Davies

Last Saturday I saw Catrina Davies speak at an author event. It was pouring outside the marquee and the venue was noisy. She sat, quietly, wavy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and picked up a guitar at her feet. In a raspy voice, a voice that suited the wild weather of this temperamental English summer, she sang one of her own songs. My husband Aden nudged me. ‘You’ll have to expand your repertoire.’

Then, Catrina read from the start of her third book based on the recollections of Hedley Ralph Collard. She told us that when staying in Wales in 2014, she met him on a walk. He was in a wheelchair. They struck up a conversation, and over time, developed a remarkable friendship.

In her book, she writes as if she is him: in the first person. ‘The book wasn’t working when I was writing about him. I had to inhabit his voice,’ she said. With his permission that’s what she does. (No mean feat.)

Regenerative storytelling: a bridge between us and the planet

What she’s done is really interesting — and smart. Catrina has interwoven the life of one man (who’s name has been changed to Thomas Hedley) and pitched it against the much larger backdrop of life on Earth, starting 4.5 Billion Years Ago.

By interspersing his human story — which began in the mid-1950s, at the time that we as a species began directly, unalterably impacting the planet — we care about the individual AND the whole.

As the rain lashed down, Catrina explained how she’d been trying to capture the fragility of his life. ‘It expressed something universal and urgent about all of our lives at this moment in history.’

Thomas, she said, is both an everyman and an extraordinary individual. He grew up on Exmoor in southwest Britain and knew the names of all the trees. He had a tough, rural upbringing, accident after accident, until one left him paralysed from the neck down.

Getting people to care: how stories do this

Stories work best when they are universal AND particular. It’s a Hollywood cliche but it’s true. When we can see ourselves reflected in the life of a protagonist on screen, we leave the cinema with that rush of having experienced a great movie. We feel validated, our lives that bit richer.

At the end of the talk, I bought another copy of Catrina’s book as a present. I introduced myself and she asked my name. Her forehead puckered. ‘I know that name. What did you write?’

I think I stammered. ‘’My first book was Last Seen in Lhasa—’

‘Aagh,’ she exclaimed. ‘I read that. Came out about twenty years ago? I’ve still got a copy.’ She handed me hers. ‘It was a great book.’

I think I blushed because it’s been a while since I’ve had anything published. It was a sweet moment: my own validation. An unexpected endorsement that I am on the right track with this new work about climate change.

I still haven’t opened her book. The time isn’t right. But I look at it differently now when I’m procrastinating. It gives me hope.

Hi, I’m Claire. Through my business Wordstruck we help companies bring their sustainability strategy to life. As the Founder of Regenerative Storytelling, we’re helping leaders do more for their people, their community and the planet. I publish regular content about storytelling, regenerative leadership and reframing how to address our rapidly heating world. To see more of my content, please sign up – and join the conversation by sharing a comment below.

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Doing the Do

The Do Lectures have a global reputation. Rightly so.

A friend Ruth Kennedy first told me about them. What stayed with me was not what she said but how she talked about her experience. Her energy.

I started following Do co-founder David Hieatt’s blog, bought some of their books (Do Story by Bobette Buster is a goodie), and had it on my love-to-do-sometime-list.

Getting there isn’t straightforward. It’s held in a field in south-west Wales. Ireland is closer than London. Even before that, you fill out an application form with questions that made me sweat. The hardest one: draw a doodle of yourself. My attempt is above.

Immaculate vibes

Like all good festivals, there’s a price tag that goes with it. But this is a festival for the mind — and heart. (Interestingly they flip the events’ business model: participants pay, speakers don’t get paid; the talks are shared for free, with no advertising, to grow the worldwide Do community.)

“The place had immaculate vibes”, said one Do-er. While it brought out the best in us, it would have been even better with more diversity throughout.

Still, something extraordinary – and regenerative – can happen when you put one hundred pretty amazing humans in a field for three days; ask speakers to share the essence of who they are (which at times moves you to tears); have intentional provocations and real conversations; curate natural spaces with fire pits, an open-air amphitheatre, a Welsh choir and al fresco dining among the flower beds.

Not to mention a gin bar and live music acts including a virtuoso sax performance by James Morton who had half of us pumping like pogo-sticks.

I’m left with clothes smelling of wood smoke, a new yummy network of committed change makers and a brain fizzing with ideas. When my husband Aden picked me up, he summed it up nicely. “You look like your synapses are sparking like a V12 motor, the clean kind, electric-powered.”

So, this will be the first of a few posts sharing what I heard.

When you don’t know: muddle

I’m kicking off with an introduction to Omid Maleka, Explainer-in-chief of Blockchain Technology, who spoke about his journey into crypto… and how:

“When you don’t know what to do … when we don’t know our story… muddle.”

He explained crypto in a way that I hadn’t previously understood. He held up the first CD he bought when he migrated to America as a teenager.

“The scarcity of society has been an organising system for ever. Take this CD, if I gave it away, I would feel like I lost something… Now think about streaming. What happens if I share the music file instead?”

Of course we all know the benefit and convenience of streaming, but we give up something of value. “That’s the trade off.”

Reframe value

Omid described the difference between cash (universal, free and private) and Apple Pay (my words here – elitist, costly and monetising our data).

“Apple Pay. Think how much they own,” said Omid.

At the heart, he challenged us to reframe value. “Big tech and big banks are stuck in the old paradigm… which is to hoard. Crypto represents a very different story.”

Move faster-er and be braver

The point is this. At Do, everyone was there for change. Whether through our business or ourselves, or for the planet.

We want to leave the world in a better place. We have no choice but to try.

As Andy Middleton, MC and Sustainability Catalyst, reminds us on the last day.

“In the time we’ve been here – the world has had the three hottest days in its history. Don’t go away being optimistic because we are in a s**t place. But go away and be braver.”

Hi, I’m Claire. Through my business Wordstruck we help companies bring their sustainability strategy to life. As the Founder of Regenerative Storytelling, we’re helping leaders do more for their people, their community and the planet. I publish regular content about storytelling, regenerative leadership and reframing how to address our rapidly heating world. To see more of my content, please sign up – and join the conversation by sharing a comment below.

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Caring: Regeneration in Action

A picture taken by Claire of the stunning coastline of Prussia Cove, Cornwall. To the left, clear turquoise water meets the steep cliff edge. The coastline is covered in green grass and pink flowers.

This week I’ve been on holiday walking some of the South West Coastal Path in Cornwall. Unlike in much of the UK, we’ve had glorious sunshine on this rugged peninsula. (The long winter I mentioned in my last post, a distant memory.)

The Coastal Path is actually many paths. They are narrow and you walk pressed between wild flowers: magenta foxgloves, white cow parsley, wild gladioli, giant daisies. Walking gives me time to reflect, ponder and percolate ideas. Quietly, I’ve started to map out chapter headings for my next book.

My friends keep asking what I’m writing about. They’re hoping for another novel. When I tell them I am writing about how we can apply regenerative principles to our work and life, they look a bit disappointed.

But, that’s okay. I reckon, once they read what I’m learning about… they’ll be interested.

Paul Hawken: a world-leading author in regeneration

Right now I’m in the exciting phase of interviewing people across industries and from different fields. These include economist and environmentalist, Paul Hawken, author of Regeneration: how to end the climate crisis in one generation. It’s ballsy and bold, like him. There’s an urgency and intensity in the way he talks that is captivating – and makes you believe this is possible.

And it’s also backed up by solid research. In 2014 Hawken founded Project Drawdown. Since then he’s collaborated with over 200 researchers on dozens of climate solutions – many of which are already happening to create “the largest social movement in history.” Behind the scenes he works with heads of state and global CEOs to help them accelerate economic and ecological regeneration.

When we spoke he reminded me that, “We are innately regenerative, all 30 trillion cells in us.”

When I pressed him for more, he said simply, “Caring is regeneration in action… Unlike a concept like sustainability, regenerative is a principle. It is a way of seeing… This regenerative impulse is in all human beings. “

Nature immersion: it works.

Walking in Cornwall felt so regenerative. The profusion of flowers, warm micro-climates where palm trees, succulents and grevillea grow (frosts are rare in the southwest so these species survive the UK winter) add to the rich biodiversity. Carpets of pink “pig face” tumble off cliff faces; gulls wheel above.

Being immersed in nature like this helped me think more deeply on how to simplify some of the regenerative theories. It seemed apt that the South West Coastal Path spits and diverges… each path has its own character… each adapting to the shape of the land that it travels. There’s a certain etiquette as you walk – you shout “runner” and step aside when a jogger barrels past, you step onto the bank when the path is particularly narrow, and let a family walk by.

Taking the time to slow down.

All of this spoke to me of the need to be attuned to your surroundings – to the place you are in. (Place-making is essential to regenerative thinking). It’s also about slowing down and taking the time to notice the micro-moments of nature.

This card I found in the port town of Mousehole summed it up well. We cannot direct the wind but we can adjust the sails. That is, our own sails…

By changing our way of seeing, we can achieve so much. Really we can.

Over to you. What inspires you the most when you are in nature / the bush / on country?

Hi, I’m Claire. Through my business Wordstruck we help companies bring their sustainability strategy to life. As the Founder of Regenerative Storytelling, we’re helping leaders do more for their people, their community and the planet. I publish regular content about storytelling, regenerative leadership and reframing how to address our rapidly heating world. To see more of my content, please sign up – and join the conversation by sharing a comment below.

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Systems change – and so can we

A screenshot from the 'Systems do change: Water Resilience in Mexico City' campaign. A colourful drawing of the concept of nature.

Thinking systematically is one of the hardest things I’m learning on my regenerative journey.

But it’s also one of the most needed shifts.

Being regenerative is about better aligning with the living systems we all rely on… and understanding the impact of our actions on the WHOLE.

Are you a systems-thinker?

I reckon some people are born systems-thinkers. For my husband Aden, it comes naturally. He sees the picture and the pieces within the picture. And then often reconfigures what he sees to give another perspective.

Aden is a proud Gumbaynggirr man from the mid-north-coast of NSW, Australia. He was brought up by eight mothers and has a vast extended family.

His Indigenous heritage is part of what gives him a more holistic view on life. His connection to country is deep and strong. His awareness of the unseen as well as the seen — together with his ability to trust his intuition: all contribute to thinking systematically.

Western thinking and Indigenous relating

Western thinking tends to dissect knowledge and siloes information.

It is linear.

Indigenous thinking tends to do the opposite – it connects and focuses on the relationship between people, land, the more-than-human.

It is circular.

So much to say on this topic, but that’s for another day. (Aden and I are en route to London to spend time with my mum – I’ve just got the one mother! She’s doing well, in her mid-80s.)

Sit back and be inspired

Instead of more chat, I will leave you with this 4-minute video about how systemic change actually looks in a real-world project.

It’s from a project located in the neighbourhood of Xochimilco in Mexico City – that has both preserved cultural practices AND restored water access in times of crisis — and done so by changing the system. One of the lead project designers was Ben Haggard, from the Regenesis institute in the US — and where I studied regenerative theory and practice.

It’s an inspiring watch.

Enjoy!

P.S If you are a systems-thinker and you have any tips, please share what’s really helped you.

P.P.S If you’re interested to go deeper with regenerative thinking, enrolment has just opened for this year’s Regenesis TRP practitioner series.

Hi, I’m Claire. Through my business Wordstruck we help companies bring their sustainability strategy to life. As the Founder of Regenerative Storytelling, we’re helping leaders do more for their people, their community and the planet. I publish regular content about storytelling, regenerative leadership and reframing how to address our rapidly heating world. To see more of my content, please sign up – and join the conversation by sharing a comment below.

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Stories as intravenous sense-makers

Bangkok city gardeners at work in the Rama IX Park, the largest park in the city.

Writing a new book always comes with a combined feeling of excitement, trepidation and wonder.

Wonder — because you never know where it is going to lead.

Every book I’ve written (and I’ve written five now — three non-fiction, two of which were travel memoir, and two fiction) — have taken me in a new direction.

And my current book project — about regenerative leadership and storytelling — is already doing just that.

Are we telling the right stories for right now?

Writing a book is a bridge between where you are and where you want to go. It opens new vistas, connects you (ideally!) with new audiences. And connects me with new meaning.

I’ve always written as a way to understand and figure stuff out. Stories help you do that. They fast-track you.

When you communicate data as a story instead of just presenting stats and facts, you create a bridge for data to be understood by the more emotional side of the brain.

Stories are our intravenous sense-makers.

Of course they are. We are hard-wired for stories. They are our oldest ways to make meaning out of this complex thing we call life.

But I reckon we really need to think long and hard about the stories we are telling ourselves right now about our future. About the planet. About our place on the planet. And we need to get on with it…

From climate change to regeneration

I’ve spent the past three years really looking into how the climate narrative is shaped. (Changing the predominant narrative has basically been my research/passion project/awake at 3:00 am focus… I was pretty busy during lockdown.)

But where I’ve ended up, isn’t where I thought I would. It’s starting from a different premise — from regeneration.

Currently the way we are positioning the climate narrative is from a place of deficit, of lack, of fear and of scarcity. How often do you hear phrases like “we are fighting the war against climate change” or “we need to mobilise on a war footing” or “it’s up to us to save the planet.”

In contrast, being regenerative aims to unlock the potential within us to enrich life. Being regenerative is evolutionary… you get there by building capacity. And you do so through understanding and aligning your actions with the bigger living systems within which we all live (and rely on).

Over time, that helps increase vitality and viability — and you add value to the whole system.

Being a regenerative leader starts small

Getting my head around all of this has taken time. But I remember one of those 3:00 am moments in the weird weeks of early 2020. (It seems like a lifetime ago now… when covid-19 was just making headlines.)

I came across this great article by Katherine Long and Giles Hutchins – both regenerative pioneers. It resonated then, and still today:

“Think of yourself as a ‘guerrilla gardener’ seeding new opportunities for regenerative thinking and practise even in small micro-environments. Learn the craft of regenerative leadership wherever the opportunity presents itself, at home, societally as well as at work.“

Regen planting: 5 things you can do

Pay attention to where your mind goes when you hear negative news — especially around climate.
Notice what happens in your body.
See if you can flip the script.
Focus on the wonder around you instead.
Get in touch with your senses: the taste of coffee on your lips, breaking sunlight through clouds, your cat purring at your feet.

Would love to know how you find ways to seed positive ideas. Share below.

Hi, I’m Claire. Through my business Wordstruck we help companies bring their sustainability strategy to life. As the Founder of Regenerative Storytelling, we’re helping leaders do more for their people, their community and the planet. I publish regular content about storytelling, regenerative leadership and reframing how to address our rapidly heating world. To see more of my content, please sign up – and join the conversation by sharing a comment below.

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How 45 minutes can change everything

Outside my office-studio is a mango tree. She’s pretty old and craggy limbed. Fourteen months ago, her branches were stripped bare.

It was a warm October afternoon. We’d had a few warnings about freak storms. Then a supercell hailstorm hit our beachside suburb on the mid-north coast of NSW. It got so loud I hid under my desk – until I realised water was pouring through the roof in three places. Our nearby shopping centre roof also collapsed as golf ball sized hail pelted down (see 7News below).

It’s the first time I’ve been in an area declared a disaster. And the weirdest thing? When I stepped outside of my studio, I didn’t recognise where I was. In 45 minutes, everything had changed.’

Our suburban street had become a snowfield. A neighbour’s son, shirtless and in board shorts, was using a shovel to dig out his dad’s pickup truck from thick ice. The leaves on the trees were shredded. The poor birds. My vege patch was a bunch of sticks. My husband’s car, a right-off. I remember looking around me, and thinking, I don’t know where I am. The locals and shoppers in this 7NEWS report clearly felt something similar. (Although in Aussie style, surfers were soon snowboarding on the nearby Sawtell Beach!)

Welcome to my new newsletter: The Regenerative Leader.

Stories about people + business doing things differently.

It’s taken over a year for everything to get replaced and fixed. Both our roofs have been replaced. And we’re lucky, we were insured. I’ve heard that people sheltering during cyclones feel a similar sort of dislocation – obviously on a more acute, terrifying and catastrophic scale. Those 45 minutes were so disruptive that something shifted inside of me. I’d been making changes in my life and work for at least three years. But this was a catalyst.

In storytelling terms, a lived experience is what I call a “shift moment“. It changes our narrative and how we make meaning of our lives. This is what Regenerative Storytelling can offer. A new language to understand what’s happening and a new way to respond.

I wish it was as easy as flicking a switch.

But it’s not, of course. It’s about incremental changes, internally and externally. In slightly laborious language (which I promise I will limit), it’s about “building capacity”.

This is what you can expect from my Regenerative storytelling newsletter:

Stories that illustrate the small steps (and the occasional leap) to help us all adapt to our rapidly heating world. Stories of leadership in likely and unlikely places. Some might alarm you, others will entertain, inspire and encourage. Together, we are finding a new language for this time.

A couple of weeks ago, a year after the hailstorm, our mango tree suddenly grew leaves. It was almost as if they were sprouting before our eyes. The birds have come back. Birds that we never saw before.

While nature (and us) can regenerate fast… can we do it fast enough?

Join me - it's going to be a wild ride.

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REGENERATIVE STORYTELLING

Doing community regeneratively

Community-owned castle: Inner Hebrides of western Scotland

Community buy-out: Island of Gigha

‘The Island is part of me’

Green spaces and heatmaps

Why Stories About Climate Change Need a Hook

Meeting author Catrina Davies

Regenerative storytelling: a bridge between us and the planet

Getting people to care: how stories do this

Doing the Do

Immaculate vibes

When you don’t know: muddle

Reframe value

Move faster-er and be braver

Caring: Regeneration in Action

Paul Hawken: a world-leading author in regeneration

Nature immersion: it works.

Taking the time to slow down.

Systems change – and so can we

Are you a systems-thinker?

Western thinking and Indigenous relating

Sit back and be inspired

Stories as intravenous sense-makers

Are we telling the right stories for right now?

From climate change to regeneration

Being a regenerative leader starts small

Regen planting: 5 things you can do

Welcome to my new newsletter: The Regenerative Leader.

Stories about people + business doing things differently.

I wish it was as easy as flicking a switch.

This is what you can expect from my Regenerative storytelling newsletter:

Join me - it's going to be a wild ride.

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