The Year of Collective Thinking was a both a chronicle and a declaration. The chronicling, to reassure myself that what I’d felt — that “the locus of meaning, of creative drive, has shifted towards Us away from I” — could be trusted. The declaration, to call forth the courage to act.
Specifically, I wrote, to:
experiment with shifting the locus of care/obligation/meaning.
adopt a faith — that if each collective is seen, loved, supported, that my individual fate will be carried and good.
when in doubt, return to being with tightest circle.
expand from the centre out, when the energy is there. And when the energy is not, withdraw from the larger circles first. (Without feeling bad, this is called breathing.)
default to embodied, environment-informed decisions when at a crossroads.
Now, a year or so on, I review. A potpourri of sentiments. Gratitude, that I trusted my felt-sense and followed it to a coming home, of rediscovered life-force and authenticity. Awe, at the amount I gave and did. Pride, at how showed up for and returned to almost-centre, to my son, supporting his transition to separate parents and households. Sorrow, at the destruction of Family former. Serenity, at the fragile peace of Family new.
Amusement, at my naivety (that naivety we can always find in our younger selves, no matter how old we get). Oh boy. The sheer volume of life, of discovery and rediscovery. The ever-widening gyre.
Thus, now, a chronicle of reckoning. Of weighing and accounting, checks and balances.
So, here goes:
experiment with shifting the locus of care/obligation/meaning.
Vocationally, what felt true is now known truth. I am reborn, here. I can trace a withdrawal and reemergence of soul through my leaving my first career in advertising, to self-isolated writing, to Laneway Learning, to the Pancake books and now Bloom and Medley.
(Otherwise, see more under the ‘breathing’ section below. )
adopt a faith — that if each collective is seen, loved, supported, that my individual fate will be carried and good.
Appropriate to call this faith! I would like this to be true. It feels good believing this true. But it puts my fate in the hands of either god or ‘the collective’ as god.
I am unclear how but I suspect this is wrong or incomplete. My individual fate and my individual hands probably need to chat.
when in doubt, return to being with tightest circle.
yes, good. Specifically in the body, soma, not the mind. And next layer, in presence with my son. Keep going.
expand from the centre out, when the energy is there. And when the energy is not, withdraw from the larger circles first. (Without feeling bad, this is called breathing.)
Dynamically, directionally, spot on. But in fact, breathing can be hard when you’re living collectively, because we are an “inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.”1 What I mean is this whole relational web of compassion, trust, responsibility, autonomy, accountability, mudita, love... I feel it. I'm in it. Much of my year has had a moral tone; of real compromise between competing values. Exhaling is hard. Not showing up for people you love is fucking hard.2
I suspect the way here is to aspire to fluid collective breath, with honesty, self-knowledge, respect and dignity. And my lesson might be prudence in trust. 3 4
default to embodied, environment-informed decisions when at a crossroads.
sounds good. At crossroads am I, indeed, but truly too ‘in it’ to discern or plan it, and anyhow, I will sense the way:

As for declarations? None yet. I’ll return to center.
Martin Luther King Jr., Letter from Birmingham Jail
The keenest example: I recently stepped back from working with Bloom member, Catherine, on the grant we received from the Templeton Foundation.
But also, I sympathise, generally (having a partner, a kid, a job and some friends is enough onion layers to make the breathing a little jerky at times) and personally (understandable to want to speedrun building a new life when the pillars of life-till-then crumble).
I’m aware there’s a potential cope, here; to ‘over-care’, to give energy to the outer circles precisely because of discomfort being at center. I’ve certainly danced with some of that, this past year.