Hi, my name is Tomomi.

Another quiet week at home. The weather has turned cool in Paris, even raining a few times. On Saturday I went for a long walk in the forest and was surprised to find fall foliage.

I’ve restarted indoor rock climbing. It’s great to mix up the range of body movement. I love cycling but repeating the same movement and going in one direction cannot be good for the body. The height and the possibility of an equipment failure (and subsequent fall) still scare me. But I like the cheery atmosphere of my gym, and am unbothered by my utter lack of ability, so commit to going 2-3 times a week for the foreseeable future.

Oriana and I mapped out the bones of the rest of 2025 for Emotions at Work. We are almost ready to launch a new website, having outgrown the single product one-pager, and will finally start a newsletter along with it. We will run another cohort of Navingating Emotions at Work, this time dedicated to team managers. The hypothesis is that this focus will allow for more targeted messaging/inviting, and even stronger connection and exchange within the group. Most managers become managers by being thrown into the deep end, and supporting them is a cause that’s dear to my heart. Let’s see how it goes!

In wrapping up a 1.5-year project about gift economy, I listened to “The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World” by Robin Wall Kimmerer. The Guardian calls it an “ecologically-inspired alternative to consumerism”. The book was a sweet listen, just under 3hrs, and I enjoyed it alot. (which was a bit of a relief, as I haven’t managed to work through my copy of Braiding Sweetgrass.)

Collecting is one thing, storing responsibly is another, but increasingly I find the hoarding and accumulation of material wealth to just be gross. Kimmerer argues that it is in fact criminal, and while the book worldview feels quite idealistic overall, I think it taps into the need for hope and inspiration.

Serviceberry talks about the ripple effects of daily acts—how abundance thickens among those who live in gift. Last week I had been gifted a jar of homemade honey, and thought it would be fitting to send back a Tupperware of food where I used this honey instead of sugar. I hope they like it, or at the minimum enjoy trying a new flavor profile. Having my friends in mind made it more fun to go ingredient shopping and cook. It also spurred me to go to a specialist shop I haven’t gone to in a while, where I picked up some bitter melons. I hadn’t bothered to try the ones available in France because their size and coloring are different from what I know… but it turned out they taste and crunch the same, so now I’ve re-discovered a great vegetable. Not bad, huh?

This turned into something of a second week of break—technically I’ve been back at work from Tuesday but everything on the client front was quiet, and with just a trickle of social commitments, I had the chance to rest and think in a luxurious, open-ended way. That’s a different mode than being on holiday and I’m grateful for this unplanned time to re-orient.

I’m actively closing a few chapters in in my professional activities in September, as well as begining the process of renewing my French visa. The perceived high stakes, time pressure, and bureaucratic complexity of these kinds of tasks tend to leave me procrastinating and panicked. In an ideal world I would not have to go through any of it, and in the past I have been very good at scraping by with the bare minimum. But I’ve come to recognize the harm that this avoidant attitude can cause, and cautiously trying on different approaches. Asking for help, identifying questions to ask myself instead of brooding, setting up bite-sized tasks instead of all-or-nothing deadlines…

Baby steps to be sure, in a state where the stakes are objectively not high at all. It’s still hard, though, and I’ve benefitted greatly from having elastic time and the comforts of home (and thankfully, no more heat dome for now).

I saw this beautiful 1910 illustration in the window of an antique bookshop in Turin last week. It’s the same view of my photograph in last week’s Weeknote. Here is a digital copy from the Mountainmuseums website.

The heatwave is intense but our legs feel strong. I’m cycling with my sister from Annecy through Chamonix Valley through Aosta Valley down to Ivrea then Turin!

Paris has been cool, even a bit chilly at times, in a cheery, magnanimous mood as people disappear into their holidays. It’s also the time to look around to connect one last time with those still here. I’ve had a more social week than usual, and enjoyed it a lot.

My own vacance will be on my old road bike. I’d decided this was the kick I needed to make all the improvements I’ve put off for the last decade. Put on a more comfortable saddle, get flat pedals for sneakers instead of clipless shoes, give it a good clean, get the gears checked etc. I had ordered a new rain jacket and seatpost bag, too. So this week I ran around town chasing down deliveries that hadn’t made it to my door, and trying to get bike shops to give me useful advice. It was time-consuming and more expensive than I wanted but I’m almost there. It it feels good to have my trusty companion be functional and welcoming to ride again, instead of gathering dust as I default to the new and new-fangled bike. (I’m going to lend that one to my sister for our trip, while I take the old one.)

I went to the David Hockney 25 show at Fondation Louis Vuitton, after really enjoying his retrospective at the Pompidou in 2017. The highlight were several series of drawings, some of them on the iPad, from his home in Normandy. This was basically his COVID project, except unlike most COVID projects, he kept going. The Pompidou show had a few exploratory pieces. It had looked super basic, and I remember thinking huh, everyone’s iPad drawings looks the same in the beginning, and does Hockney need to be on the iPad in his 80’s? But fast forward seven years, and gosh his work is beautiful and unequivocally his. It’s humbling and inspiring, and I was happy to learn more about this phase of his life in “David Hockney in Pays d’Auge”, a work journal by writer and gallerist Jean Frémon who periodically visited him. I read half of it in the crowded gift shop instead of getting in the queue. One day I’ll encounter it again in a bookstore, and enjoy re-discovering it.

I let go of my Legacy plan on Squarespace and switched to the Basic plan so I can have 1,000 pages instead of 20, after fuming for several years about this artificial constraint. I want to override that bitter taste, and am determined to use and enjoy my website again.

Analytics says Fieldnotes for Liberating Structures gets daily traffic, and I wonder how I might make them more useful. I’d like to write more about what I’m learning through my coaching practice, Emotions at Work initiatives and all kinds of peer conversations about human systems. And about cycling and travel, too. So here’s Weeknotes back in action.

This week, I’m coming off a big field research stint in Tokyo. It was exhilarating and exhausting in equal measures, and I’ve been carefully transitioning from rest and celebration to starting analysis. For myself and what I can for my team, too. It’s all good. I feel incredibly fortunate to be in this position, while the industry talks about synthetic users and scale. And how wonderful it was to be zipping about my hometown where I haven’t lived in a decade, to be among the sweaty, well-coordinated throngs of 40+ million people in the greater Kanto area, learning about the lives of our participants.

I’m enjoying being home after two weeks on the road. Time to focus on a big delivery, go out a couple of nights and luxuriate in sleeping in.

I’m observing that part of my collection of art/design books have become regulars that I drawn on for inspiration. I had two different occasions this week, for a new website and to provide ideas for a framework-in-progress. Methodology-type books are nice to have on Kindle but there are moments in the creative process that call for pulling off a familiar book from the bookshelf and flipping through it.

I traveled from Barcelona to northern Italy for By Design or Disaster, the annual conference of the MA program in Eco-Social Design at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano. This year’s theme was Radical Care - the question is not only how to care practically today, but how to create conditions that allow all to care?.

The trip to and back were long and complicated, and I got mask sores for the first time in my life. But hoisting a duffel backpack (my kit is dialed in!) and crossing country borders by train, not needing power adapters or incurring roaming charges, with new food to try and all kinds of bars and restaurants to drop into… this has become an integral part of my life in Paris - France - Europe and it’s a wondrous thing.

The conference experience was so rich, with lots of goosebumps, tears and dancing. Part of the magic was how remote it was. Where else would one encounter and grapple with these kinds of ideas with people who are committed to them, than an ex-military barrack with a layered history in a corner of the world that I didn’t know existed until a few weeks ago? And mostly organized by a handful of international students? I think most of us made the trip without really knowing what we were getting into - but not needing to, either. We went home with lots of ideas but most importantly a sense of hope, protecting its flickering flame against the forces of an often-cruel world.

On Monday, I took the train down to the French Pyrenees. I’m spinning up a project there with a friend which requires a bit of luck. We have a lot of momentum right now and I’m hopeful we can keep it going! Afterwards, I headed further south to Barcelona to set up a design project for next year. I should know in a few days what kind of commitment will be feasible.

Among all that, I graduated from my eight-month coach training program. I’m taking time for new learnings to sink in - it’ll be good to take a few months for harvesting and celebration.

It feels a bit surreal to be planting so many saplings for next year.

I just sent out a Postcard for the first time in many, many months, and am reflecting on why it took so much out of me to get to a sendable e-mail.

With a personal e-mail, it’s fair to expect a response. With a group e-mail, it’s fair to expect to be opened. With a company newsletter, it’s fair to expect to be ignored or not even noticed.

With personal newsletters, it feels like there’s nowhere to hide. Your text arrives in someone’s inbox, probably in the chaotic Promotions tab, quivering with hope that they’ll open it. Maybe even read it, and spend a few moments thinking about it. Having access to analytics amps up the pressure, as it gives one answer to the question; am I just adding to the noise?

But it’s good. Good to learn to push through that discomfort.

Man, sometimes it takes you a long time to sound like yourself. - Miles Davis

I’m taking baby steps to inhabit new ways of showing up in the world, with friends new and old. It’s been an emotional few weeks and I’m glad to know enough now the importance of taking space for rest and restoration.

October has crept up on us and the winds are starting to get chilly. This week, I recovered from a bad cold and managed to venture out with friends to see “Arc de Triomphe, Wrapped” and the Georgia O’Keefe retrospective at the Pompidou. I also caught up with a friend visiting town - we took a long walk in Montmartre and ducked into a cafe for hot chocolate when the rain started to fall. What great reminders of the abundance that a city like Paris has to offer.

Here and there, I’m edging towards making plans for the end of the year. But let me resist for a few weeks more, to enjoy the liminal fall season and take in the freedom of being home, being at ease in our city.