Hi, my name is Tomomi.

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.

A passport kerfuffle turned this into an unplanned, extra week in Tokyo. It meant a couple of missed lunches and drinks in Paris and one 3am call but once I got over the feeling of being stranded, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I enjoyed a few more in-person coffees, museum visits, a bike ride and more time with my family. As a special bonus, the oranthaamus flowers (flagrant olive tree) started to bloom. This is my favorite scent in the world. Because I always visit in the summer and winter seasons, it’s been six? years since I was in the same city when they bloom for a few weeks in the autumn. What a gorgeous surprise!

The coaching training is chugging along and I’m learning so much. My mentor says to forget about “arriving” anywhere, that I’m already there, wherever that is, doing the work and that’s what it’ll continue to be. Yes, and I’m still expecting to feel some sort of “I’ve got this” at some point. Until I’m hit over the head with the next dimension of learning, of course… All in all, I find myself really enjoying the work of coaching. For a moment in time, the only responsibility I have in the world is to be present for the person in front of me. There is liberation in that. And while my skills for 1-1 coaching is in its infancy, what I’ve already learned so far is already paying dividends in all kinds of work conversations.

When you don’t have an aircon: Take a nap when it gets too hot, after eating a big slice of watermelon.

When you want to give people something nice to wander in: Plant sunflowers, lots and lots of sunflowers, and some arrows to invite walking.

Make accessible little things that make a big difference, with no questions asked: ice pillows, bug repellent, crocs at all of the doors.

For dark hallways, nooks and crannies: lights that turn on and off automatically, with the right lightbulb chosen for each space

Bring nature inside: tiny vases in corners and bookshelves where the eye might rest