Cultivating Unity: From Conflict to Connection, From Research to Resonance, From Cultivating Unity to me : we : us

20.06.2025

It is done.

The MAD Eco-Social Design thesis is complete (as you may have guessed from my previous post) – both parts. The research thesis and the design thesis – submitted, graded, reflected upon.

But what remains is not just a pair of academic documents.

What remains is something deeper: A shift in perception. A soft, quiet transformation that unfolded between the lines.

Cultivating Unity began – basically – with a clear question:

What are the eco-social conflicts in Swiss allotment gardens?

I set out looking for problems to solve.

But the deeper I listened, the more I realised:

People weren’t looking for answers.

They were looking for space, choice – and strength.

Space to name what they were experiencing.

Space to make sense of contradictions.

Space to navigate complexity without being told what to do.

Some needed clarity. Others needed options. But almost all were looking for a sense of agency – and with it, a renewed belief in their own self-efficacy:

That they could make a difference.

That their contribution mattered.

That they were not powerless within complexity.

And underneath all that, they were looking for something even more human:

Belonging and roots.

Slowly I began to understand: what we are truly looking for is a reconnection to memory – of who we once were, where we come from, where we are now,

and where we might head from here.

And I guess that is why the Design Thesis responded in an unexpected way – not with solutions, but with offerings.

Not to solve, but to serve.

It responded with care and conscious awareness of the recurring themes in those shared ecosystems – ecosystems that are increasingly fragmented from and fighting a system that operates on the law of interconnectednes and interrelation, on correspondence and ever-flowing energy. A system that holds system awareness, system support – (think about the wind that is needed to spread seeds of hope and life) – yet is facing extinction and major transformation with yet unknown consequences to all who dwell within it.

Because of uncontrolled urban development. Because we are still running under the dominant story of economy, with a mindset that acts as if:

• there was enough space for all of us;

• as if there was enough of everything for all of us;

• as if we were the rulers of a world we still — to this day — do not fully understand.

From this process emerged: me : we : us — building fertile ground through participation.

A gentle nudge in a needed direction:

Away from me to we to us.

Away from the sun as the sole source of life – and out into space:

the true source of everything we can be and are – the space of collective awareness .and responsibility. For it needs space to evolve, to become, and to exist. And it needs space to remember and enable our future generations to do so, too.

Yet, let us return from the philosophical – back to fertile ground.

The design thesis me : we : us – building fertile ground through participation responded with grounded offerings – not as idealised concepts.

Not to impose transformation, but to enable emergence.

It asked:

• How might we hold space in a fragmented world?

• How might we support people navigating complexity – without controlling the outcome?

• How might we build trust, invite reflection, and make participation feel safe again?

Because participation is not just a process.

It is permission – to show up as one is, and still feel welcome as who we are and choose to be in an ever changing world.

To be part of shaping what matters.

The Research Thesis gave these insights structure.

It named what had been unnamed.

Not as a model.

But as a mindset.

A rhythm.

A relational logic.

The Design Thesis me : we : us began with a simple but layered question: What makes a space special – a space not just seen, but felt?

It did not arrive as a neat solution.

It emerged as a resonant process.

Iterative. Imperfect. Alive.

From this process came tools, reflections, and artefacts: The Resonance Cube, the Value Tower, the Dialogue Cards, and more.

But none of them claimed to “fix” anything.

Each was designed to open space – for choice, for meaning, for agency.

Because people don’t want to be changed.

They want to choose.

They want to act from understanding – not obedience.

And when they don’t feel seen or safe,

they lose the will to engage.

Back in the research thesis it was learned that some board members wanted clear how-tos. Others needed space to rethink their roles. Most had no time to unpack the entire process. But all longed for choices they could trust.

So the design thesis in a new, unrelated contexts offered entry points – not instructions. Every card, every prototype, every conversation was designed to listen and make posible — not to lead. To support agency, not apply pressure.

To strengthen self-efficacy, not prescribe the path.

To allow different mindsets to coexist - embrace diversity and individuality –without collapsing the field into one truth.

And I’ll admit: There were moments I felt lost — especially towards the end – during the final presentation. I mentioned that in an earlier post.

While others prepared slides, I tried to speak from the heart.

Not always successfully.

Because presence needs space.

And in that moment, there was none.

No time to exhale.

No room to land the complexity without oversimplifying it.

No soft soil to plant what had grown.

And yet – that was the very lesson the work had taught me:

If we do not make space for understanding, the meaning cannot surface.

Eventually, with time and space, I saw the red thread.

Not the thread I was expected to present – but the one I had been walking all along.

That’s when I remembered what Neil Armstrong (I already mentioned him, but feel I need to do so again), the first human said to walk on the moon, said when he looked back toward Earth:

“Only time can tell.”

Because, on repeated reflection, sometimes you don’t understand what you were doing until you step away from it.

Not just to report – but to reflect – realise.

And isn’t that something we’ve heard before?

“One day you’ll regret not listening — and then it’s too late.”

By then, you can’t ask anymore.

So maybe — just maybe — we should begin to listen now.

Without judgement.

With humility.

To each other.

To our eldest.

To our youngest.

To nature.

Maybe it’s time we preserve knowledge, and let go of authorship and ownership –

because everything we know, everything we do, is rooted in something – someone else’s insight, someone else’s ground.

There are no truly new paths in a world so deeply watched, tracked, and cultivated – from the soil beneath as to the spheres above us.

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And now I realise:

This was never just about Swiss allotments - a place full of me's or we's.

This was about all of us.

Humans navigating change, identity, and interdependence

in a world that feels increasingly unstable and uncertain.

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What remains is not a thesis.

What remains is a promise:

To keep making space – for identity, for complexity, for co-creation.

To design with people – not for them.

To walk beside – not ahead.

To support agency – not diminish it.

To cultivate unity – not impose uniformity.

Because in the end, what people truly want is not perfection. Not certainty.

But to belong.

To be seen.

To contribute – without losing themselves.

To help heal the whole – while staying whole themselves.

And that, I now know, is where transformation truly begins.

Let me close my thoughts with something I also came to realise in my research.

As part of a social experiment (youtube ist ful of those), I captured the responses of over 50 people, each asked the same simple question:

What is love to you?

And almost unanimously, their answer came down to this:

“A place in the sun.”

Now – what that truly means, I’ll leave you to linger with for a while.