The Birth of Ostara: Beyond Sustainability Towards A Reimagining Of Our Kinship With The Earth
Almost a year ago, I stepped away from over 25 years in senior sustainability and green finance roles, following a simple yet profound realisation: while our collective efforts are important, they are insufficient to meet the scale of the escalating polycrisis. The more we promote the idea of greening the economy, the more we perpetuate the myth that a modern capitalist system, inherently addicted to growth, can be redirected to support conditions where all life could flourish.
People have often asked if I burned out, stepped out for a sabbatical or changed what was important to me. The answer is none of the above. Instead, this has been a journey of deeper exploration, seeking ways to integrate the necessary inner work with the outer systems transformations for energy and food I have been working on for so many years. I’ve come to understand that the world reflects our collective inner landscape, and that advocating for bolder action on sustainability, climate and biodiversity, essentially advocating for peace with the planet, is futile unless we can cultivate a deeper peace within ourselves.
The deeper path I have chosen has been fraught with challenges, including navigating the conflict between my internal convictions and the external perceptions of my career shift. Moments of self-doubt remain frequent as I have questioned my decision against the backdrop of societal expectations. Early on in this journey, a wise Romany woman imparted some invaluable advice, suggesting that I needed to take time to unlearn and ‘detoxify’ from my deeply ingrained ways of thinking. She suggested I would need at least one month for each year I had spent inside the system, underscoring the depth and intensity of the deeper shift required and highlighting the need for patience and perseverance.
Amid this journey of unlearning, I also began to reimagine my role. I realised that unless I could weave together my own inner and outer trails—the ‘twin trail’—what could I truly offer to others? We often keep our inner work private, confined to a Thursday evening yoga class or a weekend retreat. Yet, the deeper wisdom of the twin trail teaches us that the inner trail should be our north star, guiding and informing our outer actions, not the other way around. As I emerge from this deeper phase of reimagining, disengaging from the world could not be further from my mind; rather I am seeking to engage even more actively with sustainability but with heart and soul as well as my mind. My hope is to help illuminate new pathways.
Navigating these uncharted waters, I’ve been guided by little more than a firm belief in the necessity of new pathways of being and thinking, essential for setting us on a genuinely different course. My own journey is far from complete, and I certainly do not claim any sense of mastery. However, the one thing I have found is the inner courage to follow my conviction that new pathways in sustainability and beyond are possible—ones that bridge indigenous and Western ideas, that weave together the inner and outer trails, and that bring unconventional ideas from the fringes to the centre. I also realise that I am not alone in this realisation. Around the world, many are waking up to these possibilities, recognising the urgency and potential of deeper transformation.
I hope in sharing my journey it can be an invitation to everyone to question what is really being called for at this time? What is our unique gift to bring and what responsibility does that come with? I have learned there is no short-cut to these questions but this is the most important work to do if we are to find a new way of living on this beautiful planet.
2. Facing the Limits of Traditional Sustainability
My own starting point for this journey begins with the different roles I have proudly held within mainstream sustainability, including in big business, startups, international climate finance, major NGOs, and as an advisor to governments. My experience has often felt eerily Sisyphean—endlessly labouring to deliver important but only incremental changes, and all against the backdrop of ever-worsening environmental and social crises. I frequently mistook activity for real impact, comfortably nested within a system that benefitted me, a white heterosexual man. Rooted in a techno-optimistic worldview and the fundamentals of capitalism, I was too ready to believe we could make significant changes without compromising on lifestyle or material ambitions – the promise of green growth. Looking back, I feel that my efforts too often failed to address the systemic issues driving environmental degradation and social inequality. My suspicion is that I am not the only one toiling within sustainability harbouring these heretical thoughts.
To illustrate with just one example, over the past decade, I have focused a lot of time on how to reduce the conversion of native ecosystems in the Brazilian Cerrado—a vast and rich tropical savanna – by enhancing the productivity of soy cultivation. The technological advances made by Brazilian farmers are impressive, yet they fundamentally optimise for industrial-scale farming. As I stepped back to gain some perspective, I realised how complicit I was in trying to incrementally improve a system designed to plant and harvest millions of acres of land for soybeans as monoculture, generating export revenues in excess of $50 billion, primarily to feed industrialised pig, poultry, and cattle operations in Asia and Europe. One stark example of this industrialisation is a new 26-storey pig factory in Hubei, China, with a capacity to slaughter 1.2 million pigs per year. This is the undeniable reality of our late-stage capitalist system, striving to meet the growing global demand for meat.
It is essential to clarify that I am not pointing fingers at Brazilian agriculture or Chinese meat consumption. Rather, I am highlighting the futility of a system we all operate within—one that prioritises efficiency and profit over ecological and social health. Nicholas Behr, a poet from the Cerrado, captures this disconnect well:
‘The soybean makers are amazingly efficient because they have no sentimental link to the Cerrado. For them, the Cerrado is just soil to be planted…they are outsiders, not children of the soil which contributes so much to the destruction.’
We have all lost the deep sense of belonging to the Earth, our interconnection with all life.
This systemic critique raises critical dilemmas: Do we continue to support a system that views natural resources merely as inputs for global supply chains, or do we shift towards a regenerative and kin-centric model that respects the interconnectedness of all life? Reflecting on this, does a deeper understanding of the environmental impact of our food choices influence our behavioural decisions? How can we genuinely finance smaller-scale regenerative agricultural models without commoditising them? Should we price natural capital?
Finding sustainability solutions for a world population of eight billion is not straightforward, and there are no quick fixes. However, I believe that better solutions will emerge by slowing down, genuinely listening to each other, and considering the voices of the more-than-human world. Connecting much more deeply to the land and waters where we each live and work. Such a model would promote a holistic view that sees human and non-human entities as part of an extended community. This shift is essential if we are to address the root causes of ecological degradation and move towards systems that genuinely support all life.
3. Weaving Together Head, Heart & Hands: A New Frontier in Sustainability
One key insight from my journey is that if we want our sustainability efforts to be transformative, we need to integrate head, heart, and hands. By sitting deeply in our embodied selves, tuning into both our heart and head, we can clarify our values and align our actions accordingly.
Academic research increasingly highlights the importance of awakening wonder and awe to promote environmentally friendly choices. There are various pathways to elicit these feelings, from deep nature connection and mindfulness practices to music, art, and potentially careful uses of technology such as augmented reality. Each method can immerse us all in experiences that transcend our ordinary perception and foster a profound appreciation for our interconnectedness with all life.
These emerging insights echo the eco-centric wisdom of many indigenous peoples and spiritual traditions. The words attributed to Chief Seattle from an 1854 speech resonate deeply:
“Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the children of the earth. This we know: the earth does not belong to humans; we belong to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. We did not weave the web of life; we are merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, we do to ourselves.”
Building communities and facilitating shared experiences in circles is also pivotal in enhancing our mental health, resilience, and fostering a sense of collective purpose. Gathering in circle not only strengthens our connection to each other but also helps counteract the isolation and divisiveness so prevalent in modern society often exacerbated by our digital landscape. By sitting ‘in circle’, ideally around a fire, we tap into an ancient practice of shared storytelling and decision-making. We can sit in the grief of a deeper acknowledgment of all that is changing. We can reaffirm our commitment to each other and to the planet, fostering a sense of solidarity and mutual support that is crucial for long-term environmental engagement.
I am left with many questions but there is a richness in this type of enquiry. How might we incorporate these insights into how we advance our work? How can we create safe spaces for the deeper feelings we so often suppress, not knowing if we will be supported? How can we foster a greater sense of connectivity and community? How can we critically and honestly reassess the effectiveness of our current practices, so often conditioned by the pervasive reach of market thinking? How can we integrate the traditional ecological wisdom of indigenous peoples with modern Western science and economics, to birth a holistic approach to sustainability? How can we weave music and art into our problem-solving to bring beauty and imagination into the centre so that it might inspire deeper change? How can we better support and finance solutions that are genuinely rooted in local communities and traditions, while navigating the complexities of a globalised economic system?
4. Birthing Ostara: From Concept to Reality
Throughout the long winter months, an idea began to take shape— seeds planted, recognising the clear need for an organisation to act as a bridge. A bridge to weave together mainstream sustainability and regenerative thinking at the fringes, connect inner personal journeys with outer actions, and braid indigenous wisdom with Western knowledge. This bridge also needed to connect the incumbent dominant system with the emerging system operating on the fringes, pregnant with ideas but lacking resources.
Much of this journey has, by necessity, been an individual exploration, yet it’s been profoundly shaped by my experiences at Embercombe, a leading eco-retreat and rewilding centre nestled in a wild valley of southwest England. Here, I’ve witnessed the transformative power of collective action and the beauty that emerges when a community unites to dream and create together. Mac Macartney, the founder, has been instrumental in reviving the ancient teaching of the Children’s Fire, a guiding principle that no action should be taken that harms the children (human and more than human), which deeply influences Ostara’s ethos.
And so, the idea of Ostara began to take root, inspired by such gatherings around fires, amidst the ancient woodlands and rolling hills of the country of my birth. The name ‘Ostara’, invoking Eostre, the Anglo-Saxon goddess of spring and new beginnings, was chosen during a workshop on the spring equinox—a day symbolising balance and renewal. This choice reflects a commitment to fostering rebirth and growth during this time of profound planetary change.
Throughout the spring, I worked and tested ideas with two fabulous colleagues, Bekah Phillips and Dan Cooney, taking groups out into nature, gathering around Beltane fires, leading groups out into the night with musician Sam Lee to listen to nightingales under the stars, and deepening relationships with potential partners across the UK and beyond. This phase began to really reinforce the thirst for deeper connection and imagining.
A significant moment in Ostara’s journey was the week of the Nature Conference at the Oxford Museum of Natural History during the summer solstice, where we were invited to co-create a cultural and ceremonial programme by the wonderful Prof Nat Seddon. We infused the conference with ceremonies and discussions, integrating indigenous wisdom and Western science. We wove music and art into the heart of the event, undertook a water pilgrimage, and led the programming for the final day, bringing leading indigenous and Western thinkers together. The presence of a group of firekeepers from the Embercombe community, who kept the ceremonial flame alive throughout the conference, added a profound depth to the whole experience. Witnessing the impact on delegates, speakers, and firekeepers alike solidified my conviction that Ostara can play a crucial role in bringing such transformative experiences into the world.
I am immensely grateful for the wisdom and friendship of so many during the past year, but particularly for the ‘founding circle’ that are now collectively breathing life into Ostara. All those named above, all the firekeepers keeping the flame alight and special thanks to Nicole Schwab for her deeper dreaming and to Colin Le Duc for his continual encouragement and strong support over so many years. We each have a different story to tell on the birthing of Ostara – this is my own.
Now, as we move deeper into the summer, the foundational ideas of Ostara are maturing. We are engaged in detailed planning and strategic discussions, preparing to unveil our initial offerings by the time of the harvest. Our mission is to help weave ourselves back into the web of life.
This essay, slightly delayed by my hesitations about sharing too much too soon, was catalysed by an old friend, Oliver Karius, reading Leonard Cohen’s poignant lyrics at a regenerative design workshop he led a few days ago:
“Ring the bells that still can ring,
Forget your perfect offering,
There is a crack in everything,
That’s how the light gets in.”
Hearing those words encouraged me to share my journey and the story of the birth of Ostara from my perspective, however imperfect and incomplete. My hope is that Ostara can serve to humbly tend the many small flames, allowing the light to continue seeping in through the cracks amidst the gathering darkness. For those seeking to integrate their inner and outer journeys more closely, and for those recognising that now is the time for a deeper response to the polycrisis, Ostara aims to keep this flame alive.
Conclusion: A Humble Invitation to Weave New Threads Together
The launch of Ostara is a small step towards a much bigger dream—one of a sustainable future built on deep respect for our planet and each other. It represents not a solution, but an invitation to explore, to question, and to co-create new ways of living that honour the intricate web of life we are all a part of.
In this spirit, Ostara seeks to join hands with other initiatives and communities, including indigenous groups who have long upheld the Children’s Fire amidst immense challenges and persecution. Our role is akin to that of a humble weaver, adding our thread to the rich tapestry of global efforts aimed at moving beyond sustainability as usual, towards true ecological and social regeneration.
We recognise that our journey is one of discovery and learning. We invite everyone—policymakers, community leaders, activists, and citizens—to join us in this exploration. Let’s share ideas, challenge assumptions, and together, try to discern pathways that might lead us to a healthier relationship with our world.
As we embark on this endeavour, we do so with open hearts and a recognition that we do not have all the answers. Our commitment is to be a bridge—to connect diverse perspectives, to revive forgotten wisdom, and to spark a renewed sense of kinship with all life.
Joanna Macy, a deep ecologist and scholar of Buddhism, general systems theory, and deep ecology, captures the essence of our call to action with her poignant reminder:
“Future generations, my own grandchildren, and their children, are relying on us to do the one thing that is most essential in the face of this crisis: to let our hearts break open, so that we stop holding back our love and our grief for the world.”
Let this be the guiding principle of our collective effort. If you feel a resonance with this vision, we would love to hear from you.
Together, let’s explore what might work—and acknowledge what might not—with the intention of finding new ways forward within sustainability that are as grounded in practicality as they are inspired by love.
