Newport Lakes Stories and Contributive Practice

Chrisna began Episode 3 with a reflection on her place—zebras grazing outside her window, a river slowly turning into a floodplain, trees dropping their leaves late into autumn. It was poetic, and regenerative.

Because in that moment, she wasn’t describing a landscape. She was describing a relationship.

And that’s what this podcast—and this work—is really about: remembering that we’re not separate from the world. We’ve always been part of it.

Wholeness is a reality we’ve forgotten

In Designing for Hope, Chapter 2 (read or download the chapter below) offers a challenging question:

“What would be the appropriate values for an interdependent, constantly changing and unpredictable reality in which our main goal is the continued well-being and healthy functioning of the whole?”

This isn’t just a design prompt. It’s a worldview prompt.

Chrisna put it simply: the rain falling in her garden the day we recorded the podcast episode may have once evaporated in Australia. And the river beneath her feet might flow—eventually, in some form—into the landscape where you live now.

That’s not a metaphor. That’s a system; one that we’re part of.

The value of wholeness is a call to remember

When we treat nature as scenery instead of kin, the story of place goes on without us.

The pigeons we try to design out of public spaces, the children we forget to invite into planning conversations, the soil, the rain, the wind— they all belong to the story whether we acknowledge them or not.

Wholeness asks: who’s missing from this picture?

From separation to participation

At a Melbourne studio project, when stakeholders were frustrated by pigeons overrunning a local market, the usual request came: “Design them out.”

But what if, instead, we designed for them?

That single shift reframes everything. Design isn’t just about human convenience. It becomes about relationships—between people, animals, the built environment, and the natural one.

And harmony isn’t about making everyone the same. It’s about enabling each part of the system to thrive together, without dissonance.

There’s no “us and them” in a healthy system

Respect, mutuality, and fellowship aren’t just ideals; they’re how healthy systems stay whole.

The Venny in Melbourne, and the Mojah Habede in Pretoria are examples of places
where regeneration isn’t just design—it’s healing, through community, participation, and shared care.

When we start from relationship instead of separation, regeneration stops being theoretical. It becomes inevitable.

You are part of the system

You are not separate from place. You are part of it.

The air you breathe, the water that flows through your tap, the food you eat, the stories you inherit—they’re all part of a shared system.

As Fred Kent reminds us:

“Everyone has the right to live in a great place. More importantly, everyone has the right to contribute to making the place where they already live great.”

You are not alone in this world.
You are of this world.

And when we design from that understanding, regeneration is no longer a dream.
It becomes the most natural thing we can do.

Chapter 2 of Designing for Hope