Newport Lakes Stories and Contributive Practice

– examples of change driven by ordinary people coming together and imagining what it could look and feel like to live a different future

For the last 30 years I have been trying to work out how to support a path to a different, more thriving, flourishing and connected future. Where we have the care, connecting and compassion to walk together as humanity with the non human systems of the world. Where we develop the systems that help us to evolve together, constructively, through the inevitable change that will come our way as our planet spins through its journey in the cosmos.

One of the most engaging and empowering tools for this is the concept of Dreaming Forward. That is imagining what a solution could be to an issue and physically sitting in the space and implications of that future. Dreaming forward was something that Pamela Mang and Ben Haggard introduced me to as they talked about a divided community in Santa Fe. This community planned a celebration together to imagine what it could look like if the urban design aspects that physically spilt them weren’t there.

This article will explore those that I have come across in my journey that use this approach, if not these words mostly, to support the capacity to create tangible, regenerative, relational, experiential solutions.

Dreaming forward – some of the heroes

In design thinking, systems theory, and futures thinking, there’s a growing embrace of the idea that non-linear, intuitive, and even dreamlike modes of thinking (e.g., through metaphor, visualisation, and dreaming) are vital to solving complex problems.

Otto Scharmer, for instance, developed a practice called Theory U, where people learn to slow down, listen deeply, and sense what wants to emerge — a process he calls “presencing.” Similarly, Robin Wall Kimmerer invites us to dream with the land, blending Indigenous knowledge and Western science to remind us that humility, story, and relationship are essential ingredients for imagining a regenerative future.

Others take this work into the heart of community and place. Carol Sanford encourages a shift away from mechanistic thinking toward a living-systems view — seeing communities not as isolated parts but as nested, evolving wholes. Her work in regenerative business and development focuses on identifying the “essence” of a place or group and letting that guide forward movement (video here – note she has recently passed on and this lead to some big feeling for me – thank you Carol).

Daniel Christian Wahl builds on this by encouraging regenerative conversations, where communities come together to reflect on who they are, where they’re from, and where they want to go. It’s about dreaming together — about people and the land imagining futures in partnership, not opposition. (book and Medium article)

At the same time, initiatives like Nora Bateson’s Warm Data Labs provide spaces to explore messy problems in holistic ways — using story, metaphor, and cross-disciplinary dialogue to unearth patterns that more analytical methods often miss. This type of dreaming-forward creates new languages for hope. And it’s not just theory. Groups like the Living Future Institute and Regenesis are applying these ideas to buildings and neighborhoods, using frameworks like the Living Building Challenge to inspire places that heal rather than harm. The Center for the Living City, inspired by Jane Jacobs, takes it to the street level — championing civic imagination and community-led design that reflects real hopes and dreams. Together, these efforts show that dreaming forward is more than wishful thinking — it’s a deeply practical, relational, and joyful way to co-create better futures.

My journey with the concept

What all of this shows is that simply imagining an idea — even if it stays in the realm of dreams for a while — can give people a real, felt sense of what’s possible. That imaginative leap brings energy to the idea. It lets people try it on, refine it, and live with it, even briefly. And that often gives them the confidence and agency to move the idea from wishful thinking into something more tangible and real.

For me, the power of this didn’t fully click until I read The Dawn of Everything by David Graeber and David Wengrow. Even though we touched on this in Designing for Hope, and I’ve practiced it in my own projects, it was their exploration of how societies throughout history used festivals and rituals to question the status quo that really landed for me. They write about how people would use these moments to flip hierarchies, poke fun at power, and try out different ways of living — all through play, performance, and community gatherings. These weren’t just one-off rebellions. They were a vital part of how people made sense of their world and imagined alternatives. Graeber and Wengrow called them “laboratories of social possibility,” and I love that phrase — it captures how imagination and play can actually help us rethink how we live together.

One project that really brings this idea to life is Picnic by the River de la Piedad in Mexico City (see image or here on page 201-3). It started with a question: how do we truly transform the city? The team recognised that water was both a deep challenge and a natural organising force — with nearly 30 watersheds all flowing into the city centre. The city had massive infrastructure to remove water, yet still didn’t have enough to meet people’s needs. So the team proposed something bold: to bring back to life a buried river that now runs beneath a freeway. The idea was to dig up the road and restore the river as a living, visible part of the city again. It sounds outrageous — and maybe impossible — but it’s the kind of idea that instantly makes sense. You can see it. Feel it. Dream it.

This is exactly what we try to do in placemaking — help people dream forward what their places could become. We ask questions like: What would it look like? Who would be there? What would it sound like, smell like, feel like? What natural systems would thrive? How would we care for it together? We often start by organising events in the space itself, connecting people to the land, its stories, and its possibilities.

Being physically present opens up new ways of relating to a place. It invites grounded visioning, storytelling, and small experiments — like planting a garden or creating a gathering space — that can ripple into bigger transformations. Placemaking, at its heart, is about building relationships: with each other, with the land, and with the futures we want to co-create.

Starting

So, what would it mean to dream forward in your own place?

You don’t need a massive budget or perfect conditions to begin. You just need a small group of people willing to imagine, to listen to the land, and to ask: What if? What if this street were a garden? What if this concrete corner became a space to gather, to laugh, to heal? What if our systems cared for nature as much as they cared for people?

The invitation is simple: start where you are. Host a conversation. Walk your neighbourhood. Sit quietly by the creek or under a tree and listen. Gather a few friends and ask, “What would it look like here, if we truly thrived — together?” From that seed of dreaming, something regenerative can begin to grow.

Because the future isn’t something we wait for — it’s something we co-create, one hopeful, outrageous, deeply felt idea at a time.

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Short video on Regen Placemaking enabling each area of the city to dream forward their own contribution to the future.