“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” –Marcel Proust
Writing a solo book on an idea, and not just any idea, is a new experience for me. It’s a birthing process of sorts, this one with a ten-year gestation period since my original paper on Regenerative Economics. A book is an extraordinary amount of work one needs to experience to believe. There are moments of intense struggle and moments of flow. Mostly it feels like a marathon you tackle one sentence, one paragraph, one chapter at a time. It’s also about as gratifying as anything I have done in my life—except marriage and children.
Now that I have turned in the “final” manuscript of Regenerative Economics: Revolutionary Thinking for a World in Crisis to my editor, I’m already regretting the pieces I left out, the missing historical context, but how far back can one go? I’m already feeling it’s out of date as the world convulses day by day. I could have explained things differently, better, made it more accessible to a broader audience, yet made it more convincing to experts with different perspectives.
The idea of regenerative economics is not just any idea as I mentioned above. It’s likely the core contribution I will ever make to society, perhaps even my life’s work. It’s more than an idea; it’s a paradigm shift that I know from experience few are ready for, few beyond my little bubble will even be able to “see”. But it’s now an artifact for the ages, and another one is marinating in my mind. Yet what difference can a book really make today?
The idea of regenerative economics found me, is how I think of it. The result of an intense and often painful search if you want to know the truth. It’s a search that has preoccupied every day of my life since witnessing 9-11 and still does. It’s a revolution of sorts, not of some new discovery, but in seeing what others see yet in an entirely new way. To me, a self-evident truth, what I hope will seem obvious in retrospect. Yet remarkably, it’s also nothing new, as old as our many ancient wisdom traditions, and echoing indigenous ways of knowing and being. Each one somehow intuited what our latest evidenced-based science now vividly confirms with rich detail beyond our imagination. It’s breathtaking to contemplate. We have indeed arrived where we started as T.S. Eliot foresaw.
Was it my destiny to struggle to see this, to write this book? How will it land? Who will see what I see? Who will it threaten? What will be the criticism? Why did this struggle become my life purpose?
I care, not because I want it to be liked, or to be “successful”. Of course I want it to be widely read; I want it to be impactful. But I care because the world is in crisis, and I see a pathway forward. I see an opening through the chaos if we choose to take it, to a world of abundance and peace that is hidden in plain sight. I care because I deeply care.
This book wouldn’t exist without the generosity and years of open dialogue with my many teachers and colleagues too numerous to mention here. It would not exist without the heartfelt support, dialogue, and commitment of this incredible learning community. To the many of you who have shared your wisdom, inspired me with your courage and actions, challenged me, and encouraged this work over the years—thank you sincerely. To my students, thank you for showing up and sharing your insights. Your example and willingness to struggle with this paradigm shift together is the fuel that keeps me going. It’s a privilege to walk this path with you. Can’t wait to share the actual book later this year!
