I have been pondering recently how sustainability has become synonymous with the notion of doing things better, or doing less damage. The idea being that if we can just find improvements, efficiencies, replacements of the bad, polluting, or negative thing with something ‘better’, we will be alright. Swap out internal combustion engines with electric vehicles, replace virgin materials with recycled content (road, buildings, fashion etc), plant three trees for every one that is removed, reduce waste through recycling. These ideas on the surface seem like reasonable things, and its not that they aren’t important. The problem is, that they are vastly insufficient to shift the dial on the challenges we face, if we don’t look at what extractive systems are doing front on. 

Regeneration and regenerative design has gained a lot of popularity recently, and for many its framed or considered as a ‘greener’ version of sustainability. Same cities, same products, same ways of working, being, building, but now with more nature. More green spaces, green walls and roofs, street trees, rain gardens, bioswales. Again these are good things, but they don’t consider the underlying assumptions and system challenges inherent in how we live. Unless we address the foundational views of continual growth, material consumption and energy use, our pathway is heading in one direction only.

I know that getting caught in the semantics of language can sometimes seem tedious. But I believe that the words we use and the stories we tell shape our reality. To be truly regenerative we need to explore ways we can reconnect the living webs of life, in our soils, waterways, plants, animals and human communities. I’ll share more thoughts on stories and weaving new ones in a later post.

I’ve been reading and listening to Joanna Macy and John Seed, whose work on deep ecology, (or the great turning as Joanna frames it) has warmly informed my thinking and practice. John’s teachings remind us that every element of an ecosystem has intrinsic value. Regeneration isn’t simply about improving metrics or ticking boxes; it asks us to cultivate active care and reciprocal relationships. Imagine a forest. Its soil teems with fungi that exchange nutrients with trees, while understory plants filter water and offer habitat. Regeneration seeks to translate that wonderfully dynamic exchange into our social, economic, and built environments. Now this is a radical shift in how we are in relationship.

Key to regeneration is place-based understanding. Unlike one‑size‑fits‑all solutions, regenerative work responds to local ecology, culture, and history. For example, instead of imposing generic green infrastructure, practitioners study watershed patterns, ancestral land‑use practices, and community needs, co‑creating designs that heal both land and people. This approach aligns with indigenous and traditional knowledge systems—rooted in respect for land and the more-than-human world. Of which I have so very much more to learn.

Regeneration also requires shifting our mental models. If we view nature as a resource to extract, we perpetuate depletion. Instead, consider ecology as a mentor: observe flows of energy, cycles of growth and decay, and the power of diversity to build resilience. Ecologist Fritjof Capra describes living systems as networks of relationships that self‑organize around shared purpose and flow. By learning from these patterns, regenerative practitioners design interventions that amplify positive feedback loops, like the literal composting organic waste to enrich soil, which in turn supports more diverse plant life. What do we need to compost in our thinking, our organisations or our practices to make room for more flourishing?

Finally, regeneration is an ongoing practice rather than a finite project. It demands patience, reflection, and adaptation. It acknowledges the importance of how we work, over an obsession with what is achieved or where we get to. In part, because there are so many factors within complex systems and living ecologies (including workplaces, institutions, and society) that are simply not in our control. This requires us to shift into ways of working that foster trust through acting with integrity, that build capacity through collaboration, and embrace the messiness of uncertainty through a continuous cycle of learning. This is a living practice that aims to honour the complexity and creativity of life itself.