Louise Macdonald
Chief Executive, Young Scot & Chair of RSA in Scotland

Anticipation

Change happens...

Anticipation. That’s probably the best way to describe how I’m feeling as we reach the “end” of the Natural Change project – and it’s fair to say that’s not how I predicted I would feel at this point in the process.

Our last official workshop took place in Edinburgh – coming full circle from our starting point six months ago. There is a sense of “bringing it all back home” – a recognition that you don’t have to be physically far away to experience the wilderness…erm, experience! I’ve written before about how to bring all that these incredible outdoor adventures have given me into my day to day life, so the finishing point for this part of the exercise seemed apt.

And the good news is, it really isn’t an ending. Instead it would appear that all of our experiences in Knoydart, Glen Tilt and Cambusbarron were simply preparation for the next step. The project has acted as a catalyst for all kinds of ideas and actions, both personal, professional and as a group. I think the phrase might be “watch this space”, as our biggest challenges may be yet to come!

But of course the key question is: did I change? Or, as I’d prefer, am I changing? The answer is most definitely yes. The harder question is how much of that is down to being a participant on this project? For those who live in the world of evaluation and impact measures, that is the crux of it, but I don’t think any of us have a black and white answer. Change happens – the world changes and you change with it, the product of a whole host of complex and interwoven influences and drivers. But I’d be prepared to say that a lot of the change that has happened – in particular in relation to me really exploring my values and how I relate to the world – has its roots in NC.

I’m more aware – it’s like the volume has been turned down on some things and turned up on others. Trees will never just be trees again; I notice the day every day and hear the birds singing. I’m tuned into the beauty and interconnectedness of wildness – even in the middle of the city. Personally I’m less afraid – of life, and of looking stupid in a fleece! I feel like I’ve reconnected with my intuitive and creative self – an astonishing gift that I am so grateful for. And I’m asking more questions in relation to social change – bigger questions, harder questions. Not thinking that it’s all too hard so just focus on something else, the something I can control. I’m having conversations I’ve always wanted to have in all kinds of unexpected places.

But I feel selfish, because these are all so personal. In relation to my behaviour and sustainability – am I living a greener life? Not so much, not yet. However, the change is that now I really WANT to – I just have to pluck up the courage to let go of some of the things I will have to in order to be authentic, and I’m not sure I’m ready right now. But, the seed is sown…

I’ll admit at this point there has been much that has happened on this journey that I haven’t been able to share on this blog – far too personal – but I am so thankful to have been given this opportunity. In learning that the wilderness can be such a powerful source of intense natural healing, I have a new and profound respect for the earth and our complex relationship with it. I now know that this is a new beginning and, at heart, I am a truly wild soul.

Songs of NC Revolution

It's all connected, it's all intertwined

Our last weekend workshop has passed. Discussions about models of social change (plus co-creating our own idea!), plus a five hour solo from dawn in the bitter but beautiful cold, combined to deliver another challenging and uplifting experience - physically, intellectually and emotionally.  However, as soon as it was over, “life” took hold, especially my working life, and I was full of concern that it would be days before I would have time to blog.

But as I started my journey to London for a couple of days, I switched my iPod onto random, and this was the song that filled the space between my ears. Talk about synchronicity… I will blog about the weekend soon, but I just wanted to get this up, as it really made an impact: stopped me in my tracks in fact. Plus, it ensured I managed to “take with me” my NC experience as I went from meeting to meeting - trying to “encounter each moment before it had passed..” I’d love to hear you ideas about NC songs - what would be our soundtrack?

“You ceased to mow the lawn 10 years ago, you just want to see how your garden would grow.

You abandoned the pruning shears and welcomed each weed. You permitted the soil to select its own seed.

But it would be unfair to assume you don’t care, for you pay great attention to all that goes there.

But you simply abstained from a plan or design, you just let it all hang out and take it’s own time.

You just let it all hang out and take it’s own time.

And you follow the thread, in the book that you’ve read

Or in something that someone you heard somewhere said.

You say it’s all connected, it’s all intertwined.

You just let it all hang out and take it’s own time.

You just let it all hang out and take it’s own time.

Well you don’t move too fast, you make it all last - you encounter each moment before it has passed.

And you say walking slow in this world is no crime.

You just let it all hang out and take it’s own time.

You just let it all hang out and take it’s own time.”

Karine Polwart: Take Its Own Time

Changes and Gifts: Taking Stock…

Sea of grass = winds of change

It’s a few days until our next wilderness experience, so there is a natural focussing of the mind on next steps etc. I then thought that perhaps what I need to do is a bit of a “stop and take stock” exercise around the whole Natural Change experience so far. So, forgive me if this post is a bit of a random collection - but I’ll pick up the threads over the coming weeks hopefully.

So, what have I learned/experienced so far? What are the tangible changes and the gifts it has brought?

1. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, there is a definite change in my motivation relating to all things “eco”. I’m still coming to terms as to what is the potential scale and scope of the changes I can make, both personally and “professionally”, but there is a definite will that didn’t exist before, which now comes from my heart, not just my head.

2. I’m getting out more - much more. For a woman who previously thought the great outdoors was that space between the taxi and the front door of Harvey Nics, this is significant! My lovely walking boots - see my earliest posts - are no longer shiny and have seen good use in woodland, hills and seashore. I now crave the chance to be outdoors and the sense of perspective and wellbeing it brings me - and am prioritising it above other things.

3. I’m consuming less - and am seeing a noticeable reduction in my desire for “stuff” and the need to be validated by my purchases. That said, there’s still an Armani suit I’ve got my eye on… 

4. I’m wasting less food - through planning meals better and cooking more, as well as buying local and from farmers markets.

5. I’m striving to apply the personal learning that I’ve experienced - which is hard to quantify here - into my life and work, even if it’s just applying some of the tips and techniques for team building and simplicity of approach.

That’s the good stuff, but what are the challenges that remain? Well, aside from the ongoing nagging doubt about whether anyone except us is remotely interested in all this, there is one ”biggie”: I feel a strong sense of wanting to move on from the “personal healing” aspect of the project - which has been astonishingly powerful and an unanticipated gift - to how I/we/us can make a difference in relation to sustainability. But - and it’s a big but - there are so many people and organisations fighting this good fight - what contribution can I make? Believe me, my own sense of expectation around this is big enough, without the added expectations of WWF and co! I’m in the voluntary sector because I want to change the world…

But, most of all, the thing I keep coming back to again and again at this stocktaking moment, is the amazing - AMAZING - group of people who have been on this journey alongside me every single step of the way. It’s hard to communicate the deep bond that has developed between us without running the risk of doing it an injustice - I’ll leave that Herculean task to the final research report! But the trust, openness, intelligence, courage, respect, warmth and laughter that have been the hallmarks of our times together have reinstilled in me my oft-assaulted view that human beings are pretty wonderful creatures actually.

That, readers, gives me hope. And, if nothing else, that in itself is a beautiful gift.

A very quick question…

I’ll get straight to the point: the only things that I have bought in the post-Christmas sales bonanza were a cooking pot and a new waterproof jacket from Tiso…

Does that mean this thing is working??

Mutually exclusive resolutions?

It’s the first day of 2009, so I thought one of my resolutions should be to blog more often. So far, so good…

It’s strange - things have slowed down on the blogging front since Glen Tilt, for all of us, not just me. I came away from Perthshire with a long list of things I wanted to write about, and since then we have all been encouraged with ideas and questions, particularly in relation to the festive period: has NC made us think about Christmas and consumerism differently? What can we do to make it more sustainable? Etc, etc. But, it’s been hard - harder to write than I thought. So of course, the questions running through my head haven’t been those big ones, but instead trying to analyse the blogging block.

Aside from the fundamental worry that anything I have to say isn’t of the remotest interest to anyone outside of our small group, there is a sense of being stuck, but I just haven’t been able to articulate it. So, during this holiday period, I’ve tried really hard to focus, and think about what it means.

It finally struck me today, when I was talking about new year resolutions over lunch - the answer to the question “What are your hopes for 2009″ was that the one thing that I really want is to get “it” back, but I don’t know how.

“It” is the incredible sense of elation that I - we all - felt after Knoydart and Glen Tilt (the former especially). Impossible to put into words, but it was a sense of pieces clicking into place, a calmness mixed with euphoria. Since then, I’ve written about my wondering how to “bring that back” - how to bring the wilderness into my life more, and that is what is proving so incredibly hard. I’m beginning to think that doing so  - given the way in which my lifestyle and I are currently constructed so that they completely mitigate against me spending more time in the wild - is mutually exclusive. It’s been tough enough managing to find the time to go for a walk on the beach during this holiday, never mind when I’m working. Family, home, commitments, my own motivation - they all make it difficult. Then again, I say the same thing about going to the gym more..

But, encouragingly, some things have changed - there has been a fundamental shift. Previously, I think I did my recycling duties and environmental worrying more out of a sense of intellectualism rather than anything else. I was being told I had to worry about it, and that I was a good citizen if I did my bit, so I did. Now, I’m doing it because I WANT to, because it’s important, because it matters - it matters very much indeed.

And I do want to get out more. Put simply, when I do, I feel better. Just an hour on a beach in the late afternoon winter sunshine was enough to make me feel calmer amd more relaxed. So,  maybe that is enough. I’m unlikely to ever do the Knoydart thing again - though never say never - but maybe if I manage, even just once a month, a walk on the beach or a trip to a forest, that will keep the connection alive, as well as keep the passion to make sure I’m one of the ones who tread lightly burning every day.

Guilty Train of Thought

Ok, so I’ve been feeling guilt-stricken.

Guilty because I haven’t blogged for ages. Guilty because I have got totally wrapped up in work, to the exclusion of all else - and I mean ALL else. Guilty because I haven’t been aware of the wilderness, urban or rural, as I pass by. Guilty because it’s my husband who has been remembering to fill the birdfeeder the past few days, not me. Guilty because every time I sit down at my dining room table there’s George Monbiot screaming “Bring on the Apocalypse!” from his book cover. Which makes me feel guilty, because, because…

But…I kind of “woke up” today. And I woke up, because I was tired…

I was tired, so on a trip to Glasgow this morning on the train, instead of doing my usual and burying my head in all the papers I have to read, my folder remained closed, and I drifted off, staring out the window. And I’m so glad I did - it was just so beautiful. The amazing light (”dawn’s rosy fingers” as it is so fabulously described in Greek classics); the frost; the rolling, heavy mist; and the snow on the hills. It isn’t often I find beauty on a Scotrail commuter trip to Glasgow, but this time I did. And it was the natural beauty - this astonishing view flashing past - that touched me so much. It made me feel better and calmer. It made me feel.

That’s it - nothing more profound. One hour in one day (sorry - work guilt kicked in so I did work on the way back), but enough to reconnect me. Enough to wake me up. Enough.

Monkey business

Spaces inbetween

I have spent my week since Blair Atholl in lots of different settings and environments, which have made me think a lot about how spaces and places affect our mood. After an amazing weekend in a place of stunning beauty, where I (eventually) felt calm and nurtured,  I then spent five days rushing around, finding myself in: three busy airports; London - enough said;  a nightclub venue doubling as a conference space for one of our major events; the official opening of a massive new high-tech office conversion and then - the ultimate - the new chimp house at the zoo for a meeting!!

In amongst them all were my office and home, and the spaces inbetween them. What struck me, by the end of the week, was how affected I was by my different environments - they had an impact on how I felt, how I behaved and how I spoke to, and behaved, towards others. I worked hard to fight against that ghastly tension in London, where so few strangers are kind to each other, and so made a point of looking people in the eye, smiling and saying thank you in cafe’s and shops. I was heartened by the reaction - warmth every time.

At our event in the nightclub, a large part of the atmosphere was of our own making - our job was to create a space and environment where young people would feel comfortable and confident, able to take part and express themselves, to talk about the future of their country and their aspirations for it (the good news is the environment came up - lots).

And there there was the zoo - it’s the Budongo Trail in Edinburgh, where they have cleverly built a boardroom right in the middle of the pods where the chimpanzees live. One wall of the meeting room is glass, so we found ourselves in the middle of earnest discussion only to look up and see a chimp intently looking at us, observing what was going on. It was fantastic - great on a basic level to be so close - but even better was the impact it had on people’s way of being. People approached the meeting with a different outlook and - dare I suggest - maybe even reacted to each other differently. By moving to that space - where we were so closely linked to wildness - it completely altered our mood and approach.

I don’t suppose any of these observations are rocket science, but my point is that I am becoming much more aware of my surroundings and THEIR impact on ME - much more. If I can feel so soothed and centred by being in the wilderness, then the opposite must be true of a big city. The trick is how to take the wilderness with you, how to keep its sustaining power as part of your daily urban life? Big questions, but right now, I’m off to fill up the bird feeder again…

It’s Our Baby

This blog will be short - mainly because I’m so angry and will probably cry. I’ve just been reading the story of “Baby P” as he has been christened in the media - the latest child to be tortured to death in London by those who were meant to love and nurture him. The story is beyond awful, beyond words - that any human being would inflict such injury on a baby is bad enough, but that there were so many missed opportunities to save him by doctors and social services, just makes me want to scream out loud.

This story breaking in horrific detail across the media just after I got back from our latest Natural Change weekend has thrown up in stark relief the key question arising from our latest discussions. It’s a big question, and I’m not sure I have the language to express it properly, but hopefully you’ll make sense of it. It’s why, when we as human beings are capable of such joy, love, creativity, compassion and beauty, why is it that cruelty and suffering exists? Why is it that human beings allow themselves to be consumed by hatred, or the desire for power? When we extol the virtues of amazingly compassionate human beings, such as Mandela and Mother Theresa, why do we not aspire and commit to emulating them? What is it about the human condition which means we allow greed and evil to “win” so much? So many of the traumas we face as global citizens stem from this, not least our destruction of the planet.

There is probably some link to be made about about the gap in human values and the interconnectedness of things, but I can’t think straight. I just can’t stop thinking about Baby P - and I know there are thousands of others, believe me, you don’t have to remind me, I work for a young people’s charity - and how much he must have cried. And nobody, nobody saved him. I can’t bear it.

Serious conversations for serious times…

Dystopia and utopia…big concepts to get your head around, but if you’re going to try then I’d recommend doing it somewhere like this. The conversations at the second weekend have been amazing - expansive and challenging, with huge questions that I tend to find myself shying away from day to day, mainly because they seem so overwhelming and make my head hurt.

We talked today about this catastrophic vision for the future that exists, if we carry on the way we are now, and how to imagine and make real a more utopian vision. What was interesting was the rejection by some of us of viewing this as a linear thing, and I found myself thinking that they could morph into the same thing - that the reaction to climate and credit crunch chaos, could end up corrupting the amazing beauty and life that we have into something managed and manufactured - a dystopia surely, even a beautiful one?

We also talked about cultural messaging and this drive to consume through advertising - topics close to my heart of course. The thing is, I’ve always been acutely aware of the negative power of it, but what was interesting this time was the realisation how wilderness is used as a metaphor in advertising - from cars to handbags to vacuum cleaners! I’d never really noticed it before, but by all accounts it’s a recognised technique in marketing - based on the “biophile” response - our love of life and living things.

So, serious conversations for serious times indeed - and I want to have more of them, lots more, but along with the respect, laughter and affection that we’ve created in this group, which makes this journey so much more enriching.