Tending to My Inner Landscape

Turns out this isn't a story about having it all figured out.

If you caught my previous post "Tending To Your Inner Landscape" in the series titled "A Neuroscience-Informed Field Guide for Self-Organization," I set the expectation that I'd next dive into the Relational (We) quadrant, exploring how understanding our adaptive brains translates into healthier communication patterns and collective psychological safety - nurturing the soil where teams can truly flourish.

Ah, the best laid plans...

I find that I don't want to focus on continuing the series right now, at least not as planned.

You see, about six weeks ago, I packed up all of my worldly goods into a POD and had it shipped across the country to Southern California. Leaving the East Coast to be closer to my eldest daughter, to become a grandpa soon! (With a two-week bike vacation in Croatia tucked in there somewhere…)

My inner project manager told me, “No problem, you've got this, plenty of time to do all the things, and still research, write, refine, and publish as planned, every week.”

Like I said, the best laid plans.

On the plus side, I've found a place to live, after crashing at my daughter & SIL's place for three weeks. (They graciously waived the three-day rule on house guests.) I've rented a sweet, tiny house, 600 square feet, with an orange tree just outside the front door. I've just enjoyed my first harvest. A single, ripe, juicy piece of fruit. Filled with SoCal sunshine.

I'm learning the rhythms of this new place as I make this house my home. I awaken each morning at 5 AM, make a cup of tea, and journal. Capturing whatever bubbles up. Steam of consciousness babble. Present moments, bits of memory that connect to future aspirations. I journal to process the unknown, celebrate small victories (navigating the California DMV), and contemplate larger existential questions about purpose, creativity, building community, and belonging in this new chapter of life. A meditation - circling topics, pulling threads, and following tangents before returning to center. Embracing both the adventure and the anxiety that comes with reinvention, I navigate the challenging terrain between who I was and who I'm becoming.

I'm joined a bit later, as the sun rises, by the raucous crows that have their daily check-in "Yesterday, today, in my way", or territorial squabbles ("Hey, who said you could sleep on my branch!!!") or philosophical debates. I don't speak Crow, so I'm not quite sure.

The gray morning sky that turns blue as the fog burns off, just as letting AI mine my unfiltered morning pages for patterns reveals how I get caught in loops of self-doubt despite demonstrating remarkable resilience and capability (See "CA DMV" not to mention convincing a one-property-owning landlord that not have a W2 income is actually a good thing...ya, know I've got no job to loose...). And over a longer time frame, my AI agent tells me they see patterns that I'm rewiring my neural pathways, my constructed emotions, though small, consistent practices. I don’t think the bot is hallucinating. Theory meets lived experience.

With each unpacked box, I'm not just settling into this tiny home, but expanding into a more spacious version of myself.

I’m not sure what’s next. Stay tuned, we’ll see what emerges together.

Think. Read. Write. Listen. Draw. Walk. Run. Ride. Cook. Eat. Sleep. Ponder. Wander. Not necessarily in any particular order.