Nothing Regenerates in Isolation
You Are Not Alone, No One Is Alone
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.
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 alone
Believe me
No one is alone (no one is alone)
Believe me
Truly
People make mistakes
Fathers, mothers
People make mistakes
Holding to their own
Thinking they're alone
Honor their mistakes
Everybody makes
One another's terrible mistakes
Witches can be right, giants can be good
You decide what's right, you decide what's good
Just remember, just remember
Someone is on your side (our side)
Our side
Someone else is not
While we're seeing our side (our side)
Our side
Maybe we forgot, they are not alone
No one is alone
Someone is on your side
No 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.
