go forth and pollinate

on the quiet, world-changing power of saying things out loud

Fortune Tellus, 2022. Co-created by me and Purvisha Sutaria.

1.

For a very long time, the days went by, each one just like the day before, then I began to think, and everything changed.

I Who Have Never Known Men
— Jacqueline Harpman

Some conversations change you forever, though they look just like all the others. Why is that?

I have a friend who functions as a creative conscience for me. He’s been a consistent sounding board and sparring partner for my ideas over the years, always open to brainstorming, offering constructive feedback, and not afraid to venture into the messy middle between what is and what could be.

He was, I think, the first person I confessed “I want to start a newsletter” out loud to… That was at least three years ago. From then on, when we saw each other at this or that social event, he persistently but patiently asked me, “So, how’s the newsletter going?” Even though I had nothing to show for it, he was nudging, suggesting, and holding me accountable to a creative intention I had put out into the world, and was knowingly letting gather dust.

I would sheepishly laugh and brush it off, “Oh, you know, maybe I’ll get around to it someday!” It wasn’t his intention to, but it made me feel uneasy (read: guilty) about not having done anything to turn my externalised intention into something yet. Like I was wasting the encouragement he was giving me so generously.

That guilt was telling me something.

2.

‘You have no more idea than I or any of the rest of us do.’

‘True, but I’ll know what you think, you’ll know what I think, and perhaps that will spark off a new idea, and then we’ll feel as if we’re behaving like human beings rather than robots.’

I remember one time at the pub, catching up with that same friend, asking him what the best compliment he’d ever received was. He said, “I take it as a massive compliment when someone follows up on something I recommend to them.”

Whether it’s a book, a film, a piece of advice or a specific resource, when someone picks up that seed and carries it forward, coming back full circle to say, “Hey, I read that book you recommended!” — that’s one of the biggest compliments, in his view.

I’m inclined to agree, and I’ve seen it in action. A lingering idea in me was nudged into bloom by another person’s gentle persistence. Curiosity, activated.

I call this wonderful, quietly world-changing kind of exchange pollination. And despite the way we automatically associate it with winged insects, it’s a very human thing, too.

3.

‘Because I want to know! Sometimes, you can use what you know, but that’s not what counts most. I want to know everything there is to know. Not because it’s any use, but purely for the pleasure of knowing, and now I demand that you teach me everything you know, even if I’ll never be able to use it.’

Pollination starts, ends, and depends on curiosity: that hunger to pick something up, explore it, carry it somewhere new.

Unlike the single-minded pursuit of producing or owning ideas, pollination is about gathering and distributing, not hoarding or gatekeeping. It’s believing that 1) ideas are unlimited, and therefore an idea shared is not an idea lost, and 2) that ideas are more alive when they move from one person to the next.

In many ways, pollinators tend toward curation over creation. Someone who gets a kick from seeing the people around them flex their muscles, breathing life into a good idea, and helping them to do so by openly sharing resources, recommendations and curiosities. It is, in that sense, an inherently generous role to play in an ecosystem.

4.

I was perfectly aware that I had only added another question to all the others, but it was a new one, and, in the absurd world in which I lived, and still live, that was happiness.

We speak about curiosity as something to feed and follow, which without even realising, animates it into some living, breathing thing. Like bees drifting lazily but busily from flower to flower, ideas move through the world in the same way. Pollinators, then, are the curious conduits who gather them up, carrying them lightly until the moment comes to drop them somewhere new.

Whether it’s a book or podcast recommendation, a question to ponder, a word of advice, or a random scrap of knowledge, Pollinators leave traces wherever they go, offering seeds for others to pick up and plant.

5.

I acquired a perfectly useless knowledge, but I enjoyed it. I felt as if I had embellished my mind and that made me think of jewels, those objects which women used to adorn their beauty, in the days when beauty had a purpose.

Following curiosity for the sake of following gives me the most joy. That’s in large part why I write.

But this week marked the three-year (!) anniversary of one of my most pollinated projects to date, which is perhaps why I’ve been thinking about it. Fortune Tellus is a deck of cards I co-created as a Masters student in 2022, as part of an Earth Day event at uni. It’s designed to ‘turn the table’ on traditional fortune-telling experiences by empowering the ‘player’ to read their own futures, prompted by our cards, instead of being told them by someone else.

Among the eight ‘Archetypes’ that we dreamed up, representing the different roles people can play in climate action, the Pollinator was (and remains) my favourite:

The Pollinator © Fortune Tellus

The idea that we can each be the orchestrator of micro-massive changes, as architect and systems revolutionary Indy Johar terms it, puts a different spin on scale and impact. Rather than over-indexing on the change that one person, project, or action can make, it invites us to look at change as a chain reaction. Much like how one bee picks up pollen from one flower and transfers it to another, seeding the most impressive chain reaction of all: new life.

6.

I have understood nothing about the world in which I live. I have criss-crossed it in every direction but I haven’t discovered its boundaries.

Writing this out now, I feel like I’m criss-crossing without much real sense of direction of where to end.

I suppose the thought I’m hovering around is: when the pressure to deliver feels high (which can be, like, all the time), small, repeated actions and quiet exchanges of kind words can be the most effective way to move ourselves forward.

In moments where we’re paralysed by the infinity of options, or overwhelmed by the pressure to commit to an intention we’ve put out into the world, pollination is one of the most powerful strategies.

We can share our ideas out loud when they’re still half-baked.

We can ask the stupid questions, even though there is no such thing. (Answers, on the other hand…)

We can recommend books, podcasts, courses, newsletters (hint), and films, as well as trashy, mind-numbing TV shows that distract us from the mess of it all for a while.

We can feed and water the curiosity of the people around us, and be open to letting them return the favour.

We can follow our curiosity where it leads us, just for the sake of it, whether that feels like the most ‘productive’ thing to do or not.

Because you never know what chain reaction it might set off.

Your life, and mine, might depend on it.

7.

But if that person comes, they will read them and I will have a time in their mind. They will have my thoughts in them. The reader and I thus mingled will constitute something living.

Thanks to MB for reading a draft of and pollinating this essay!

some pollination inspiration

• The quotes throughout this essay are all from I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman. The ‘chapter’ numbers are mine.

• You can read more about Fortune Tellus on our very outdated website, if you’re curious about the origins of the project.

• You can read Curiosity as a Strategy by

  Caitlin
  for a 101 in asking better questions.

• You can read The funny thing about curiosity by

  Henrik Karlsson
  to reveal the path to finding your own ‘maximal interestingness’.

• You can listen to Justin Vernon (aka Bon Iver)’s interview episode with

  The On Being Project
  . His speaking voice is an audio experience in its own right, akin to a soundbath, or as
  Lucy Alexandra Harper
  said, “like hot chocolate”.

• And finally, you can listen to Bon Iver’s new album, SABLE, fABLE, starting with: