Chaos is not merely an adversary to be vanquished; rather, it is a profound opportunity for growth and transformation. In this podcast, I delve into the intricacies of how chaos manifests in our daily lives, creativity, and relationships, and propose that we embrace it as a guiding force. I share personal anecdotes and reflections that illustrate the interplay of stability and displacement throughout my familial lineage, emphasizing that our histories shape our present and influence our responses to chaos. By recognizing chaos as an invitation to pause and listen, we can cultivate resilience and foster deeper connections with ourselves and others. Ultimately, we will explore practical strategies that enable us to navigate chaos with curiosity and intention, transforming what may initially appear as disorder into a fertile ground for new beginnings.

Takeaways:

• The podcast emphasizes that chaos should not be perceived as an adversary, but rather as a companion to embrace.
• Understanding chaos is essential for growth in creativity, relationships, and everyday experiences in life.
• The narrative of one's lineage reveals how ancestral movements shape individual identities and experiences in the present.
• Mindfulness practices, such as meditation, are crucial for navigating chaotic moments and maintaining inner peace.
• Chaos presents opportunities for transformation, indicating that when systems break down, new possibilities emerge.
• Embracing the unpredictability of chaos invites curiosity, allowing individuals to explore and adapt to changing circumstances.

🎵 Music and soundscapes:

square wave lfo controlled reality by gis_sweden -- License: Creative Commons 0

Electronic Minute No 348 - Almost a loop by gis_sweden -- License: Creative Commons 0

Sound for a poem 2 by gis_sweden -- License: Creative Commons 0

logistic map - constant unknown r by gis_sweden -- License: Creative Commons 0

Shapes in the dark - background video music by gis_sweden-- -- License: Attribution 4.0

Welcome to Martin Loves Chaos, a podcast that explores chaos not as something to fix, but as something to befriend.

Chaos shows up in our creativity, our relationships, and our everyday lives.

It's part of how we grow.

So how do we work with it?

How do we find clarity inside the swirl?

Today, we'll explore what happens when chaos arises and how we can use it to guide our next steps and maybe even help the people around us grow, too.

But first, who am I?

Why this podcast?

Why now?

Let's start far back, way before me.

The story begins with movement, the flow of my ancestors across continents.

Even though there are many generations, many beings that existed for me to be where I am today.

Let's start where most of our lineage began, in Africa, the cradle of humanity, before slowly migrating outward, following rivers and coastlines, crossing deserts and mountain ranges.

They moved through the Arabian peninsula into India and onward to Eastern Europe, through the rest of Europe and Asia.

Every step was response to the changing world, to climate, to opportunity, to survival.

And every move transformed who they were.

Over generations, that flow carried my ancestors into the lands we now call Northern Europe.

England, Germany, France, Scotland and Ireland.

From there, they took a leap across the Atlantic, leaving behind familiar soil and stories to begin again in what we could now call North America.

But somewhere in there, they arrived.

They settled in New England, in Connecticut, up into Acadia and Canada.

They farmed, ministered, built and adapted, living on lands that had been home to indigenous nations for thousands of years.

Lands cared for and shaped long before our arrival.

Their choices, their labor, migration, mistakes and hopes became part of me.

They're the undercurrent of my story.

Layers of culture, resilience, faith and longing that shape not just where I come from, but how I move through the world today.

Let's move a bit closer to today.

My dad's parents met during their time in the Salvation Army.

They did not have much money and I remember hearing stories about the coat my grandmother bought when she was younger.

I have a photo of that and it was just one of her pride and joy.

You just saw the joy on her face just from the purchasing of a coat.

My grandfather worked in a shoe factory and I've heard stories of their parents living in very simple houses with dirt floors and minimal items.

There was a lot of alcoholism in my grandparents world and this was one of the reasons they joined the Salvation Army.

My grandparents started a family and shortly thereafter left the Salvation army and my grandfather moved on into ministry.

So when my dad was born, he was a minister's kid.

That Meant moving every few years.

New house, new school, new community.

Connecticut, New York.

Boxes constantly being packed and unpacked.

A rhythm of impermanence, just as you settle and it's time to go.

That shaped him and led to him changing locations regularly, which in turn shaped me.

From my dad, I inherited a kind of portable belonging.

An ability to arrive, listen and pitch in to help make a new place feel like home quickly.

On my mom's side, there was more stability.

Family rooted in Westchester area of New York and western Connecticut.

But even there, change was never far away.

The Great Depression, a robust farming community disrupted families relocating due to making space for a new reservoir.

And the land beneath their feet was suddenly claimed for a different future.

Stability and displacement both part of our story.

Ultimately, my parents met in central New York.

One attending Syracuse University, the other at Alfred.

They married, joined forces and kept moving as my dad explored careers, including teaching, ministry and more.

I was born in Geneva, New York, in the Finger Lakes, the land of the Haudenosaunee.

From there, I moved a few times in the Finger Lakes.

Then for a few years, I've lived in Philadelphia, land of the Lenape.

A different frequency entirely from rural upstate.

Louder, faster, more braided cultures.

Then northern New York on the Canadian border, land of the Wendake and the Haudenosaunee.

Small town life.

A middle school class of around 30 people.

Closest supermarket was about 30 minutes away.

Closest mall was an hour.

Spend weekends up in Ontario visiting bigger cities.

News from two countries on the same radio dial.

Then for my final two years of high school, I lived in Long island, the land of the Massapequas.

Transitioned to a class size of almost 500 before heading off to college.

Each place brought its own rhythm.

Rural, urban, suburban.

Each with its own kind of chaos.

Each with a history of people living on the land, growing, changing and displacing.

Each one taught me something.

Community isn't something you have.

It's something you build again and again.

Now let's transition from my childhood towards my adulthood.

And this includes Syracuse University.

This was one of the first times that I felt I was connected to one place for a long time.

Five years a record.

That's where deeper community took root.

Architecture studios, University Union Cinema board, a radio show, ballroom dance.

So many doors to connection.

I realized I love weaving people together.

Not just being in community, but being of community.

After graduation, I worked in Connecticut, spent weekends in New York City, where I eventually moved.

I worked in architecture firms during the day and went to see bands, arts events and hang out with friends.

Across the city in the evening.

After a few years of living in Brooklyn, friends joked that whenever we went out, I ran into someone I knew.

Eight million people and always a thread.

Little islands of coherence in a sea of motion.

Later, I moved to Washington, D.C. another city, another kind of chaos.

Nonprofit work, travel to universities across the country.

Thousands of conversations about education, licensure, leadership.

It was beautiful and exhausting.

I watched how different communities worked with or fought against their chaos.

Eventually I started asking, who am I in all this?

How do I show up not just for others, but for myself?

This is what introduced me to meditation.

In my first class, a teacher said, meditation is a way of making friends with yourself.

That landed.

I began to slow down, to pause, to notice my own patterns when I show up well and when I don't.

After all, the person I will spend my whole life with is me.

And I have spent a good portion of my life at this time trying to avoid being alone when my world was changing quickly.

Chaos makes us want to do more, fix more.

But sometimes the most powerful move is to pause or stop.

As I became more aware of myself, this opened me up to being ready for others.

This led to another shift.

Marriage, children, family.

I settled into the Lehigh Valley, also the land of the Lenape, and became a parent of two and was joined by a third a couple years later.

Suddenly, chaos got ramped up a bit.

It was spilled milk, tantrums, homework, frustrations with friends, unpredictable laughter.

Family taught me chaos is where growth happens, where patience is tested, where compassion becomes real.

And in the middle of it all, the most radical act is simply to listen.

You might be wondering, why share all these details about me?

It's not to tell you who I am.

It's to show you what has shaped me.

The people, the culture, the histories, the that built the ground I stand on.

None of this is the whole of me.

It's the background that makes my foreground legible.

Chaos doesn't happen in a vacuum.

It happens in relationship between our histories, privileges, pain and hopes.

Even when we connect on one layer.

Parenting, music, meditation.

Other layers differ, clash, complicate.

That's complexity.

That's chaos.

That's where new life can grow if we make space for it.

So now let's take a moment to make some space.

Let's take a moment to breathe.

Just take a few breaths.

Don't control them, don't change them.

Just notice your breath moving in and out of your body.

Let's take a moment to take three breaths.

Don't control, don't try to change them, just let them happen naturally.

And let's just notice it for a moment.

And what do you notice while you're breathing?

Do you feel tense?

Are you calm?

Do you have some worries?

Are you tired?

Are you energized?

Take a moment to notice whatever is arising.

You can do this with your eyes closed, eyes open.

Just check in.

How am I feeling right now?

When you know what's happening in you, you can meet the world more honestly.

So let's just take a moment to take three breath.

Thank you for doing that.

Pause with me.

Now let's go into a fun story.

Earlier this week, I was playing Keepy Uppy with my kid.

I noticed something very profound about the game we were playing.

If I hit the balloon hard, it flies wildly unpredictable.

Tap it lightly, it floats and flows.

I felt I had a little bit more ability to influence the direction it would go.

That's chaos.

The harder we fight it, the wilder it gets.

Meet it with curiosity, a gentle touch, and it teaches, informs, shares something about its existence.

So when chaos shows up, don't swat it away.

Tap it.

See where it drifts.

Follow what you learn.

One of the hardest asks of chaos is to let go of control of the plan, of what we think should happen.

We all have the answer to what is better, what works better.

But as Otto Sharmer in you theory asks, why do we collectively produce results that no one wants?

When things fall apart, a job ends, a project collapses, a relationship shifts.

It's.

It's not failure, it's transformation.

The system says something new wants to emerge.

Breathe.

Ask what needs to end, what wants to be born.

Listen.

Chaos is not the enemy.

It's an invitation.

When we pause, listen and gently tap instead of hit, possibility opens.

So wherever you are, notice the chaos around you.

Instead of resisting it, say welcome.

Teach me.

Now I'm excited to share a few strategies on how to work with chaos when it does arise, regulate and reframe in real time.

When chaos hits, the first move isn't thinking.

It's regulating.

Neuroscience and mindfulness research shows that calming the body reopens creative problem solving.

You can't think clearly when your nervous system is in alarm mode.

Try this protocol.

Should take anywhere from 60, 90 seconds.

You can do a mix of these or do all of them.

Let's start with just a little breath.

Breathe in a box.

Four in, four hold.

Four out.

Four hold.

So let's do that right now.

Let's breathe in three, four hold.

Two, three, four out.

Two, three, four hold.

Two, three, Four and repeat.

Do this a couple times just as a way to sort of regulate.

Notice your body moving.

Then the next thing you could do is name it.

What are you feeling right now?

If you can name might help you meet it and notice it and figure out, hey, this is what I'm feeling.

Anxious, rushed, whatever it may be right now, noticing it gives you the ability to start to figure out some path forward, then reframe it.

Okay, I'm feeling anxious.

Why am I feeling anxious?

Well, this surge in my system is preparing me for change.

This anxiousness is good.

It's getting me ready for something that's about to happen.

Shifting that gets you a little bit more excited.

Another good little practice called sense make experiment in complexity.

Prediction often fails, but experimentation works.

Research on complex systems shows that safe to fail prototypes help us learn and adapt faster.

Try this in teams or personally frame the uncertainty.

What's the real question here?

Design small prototypes.

Two or three reversible quick experiments.

Define success and stop rules.

Know when to pivot or pause.

Include diverse perspectives.

As Scott Page notes, and I'm paraphrasing a little bit here, diversity trumps ability in complex problem solving.

Review and learn what surprised us, what's emerging?

What do we try next?

Treat chaos as a laboratory, not a disaster.

Curiosity becomes fuel.

These are ways to work with the chaos as it's arising.

The smaller the steps are, the better chance you have of adjusting and readjusting.

If you take a lot of time to take a giant step, you could step off a cliff.

It's better to take little steps and get closer to the edge of the cliff and see, ah, there's a bridge just down the way.

Let me go walk to that bridge instead.

So these are things that you can do to work with the chaos when it arises.

Chaos isn't just noise.

It's a signal, an invitation to see more clearly, act bravely, and connect more deeply.

You can meet it with breath, you can meet it with small experiments.

You can meet it with curiosity.

That's the art of being fully alive in the swirl.

Thanks for listening to Martin loves chaos.

If this episode resonated, share it with someone navigating their own storm.

Remember, chaos isn't a sign that something's wrong.

It's a sign that something new is trying to be born.

Until next time, breathe, listen, and keep dancing with the chaos.

Welcome to the swirl.