The Regenerative Homecoming: From Speed to Sanctuary

We once lived fast, too fast. We built towers that reached the sky, created fast-fashion houses, fought nature, and called it progress. We measured life in deadlines, CO2 emissions, and market share. Did we confuse speed with prosperity and forget where we truly belonged? The pursuit of growth was relentless. We centralised energy, hardened forests, and reduced water to mere "resources." The places we called home became secondary. Castles, once sacred sites steeped in heritage and meaning, were transformed into investment assets. Vibrant cities were digitised into dashboards and data points. Yet, a silent question lingered underneath the cobblestone streets, in the stillness of a forest clearing, and the taste of bread baked from ancient grains: what if, all this time, we've been drifting ever further from home? Then, one morning, the call became impossible to ignore. It came from the salty wind on a cliff in Nazaré, from the cool moss of the forest floor in Sintra, and from the backstreets of Lisbon, where the scent of freshly baked pastel de nata hung in the air. The land spoke in verbs, not nouns: rewilding, return, remembering. We were asked to rebuild, not out of ambition, but out of love. Not to scale, but to sanctify. Not to possess, but to belong.

The Gravity of the Old World

Letting go of what once defined us is more complex than it appears. We cling to skyscrapers of ego, identities forged in boardrooms, and the belief that only speed, scalability, and financial profit will lead to success. For me, the shift from real estate, technology, and sustainability to urban environments and renewal wasn't just a leap; it was a rebellion of the soul. It was saying goodbye to a paradigm that no longer sustains life. We're often afraid to release old familiar roles. We cling to industry-standard titles: founder, manager, expert. We think in straight lines, even when life moves in spirals. Yet… something stirs. A longing too vivid to ignore. Sometimes, the mentor on your journey isn't a person, but a place. A forest that regenerates without asking permission. A cool, soft spring embedded in the mountains that refreshes and flows freely, expecting nothing in return. A city that reveals itself in your reflection. For me, those mentors also appeared in the streets, forests, and coasts of Portugal. In Lisbon, I felt the hum of hidden histories. In Sintra, the weight of ancient stones softened by greenery and sheltered by centuries-old trees. In Nazaré, the roar of the ocean was both fierce and forgiving. In those moments, The City Inside Me was no longer just an idea; it was my personal experience. I wasn't just witnessing rebirth; I was being reborn.

From Code to Becoming

We are entering new territory in the urban environment, an unknown threshold where the old maps no longer apply. Operation Dragonfly is my invitation to consciously explore this territory: a nine-step seasonal journey for organisational development, guiding leaders to recognise larger patterns, design resilient strategies, elevate impact, and create magnetic alignment so their organisations can thrive as living systems. A path to decipher the old logic and design living systems that work with nature, not against it. To experience the winter season as a moment of pause. We listen. We nurture the seeds and soil of change. We dream without dominating. Spring ushers in the emergence of connection, replacing isolation; reciprocity replaces exploitation; and stewardship replaces hierarchy. Summer brings vitality to living laboratories. Here, we forge alliances with fellow travellers and prototype sanctuaries that breathe because they are built to belong. Autumn invites us to harvest, integrating lessons into self-renewing systems that create conditions conducive to life. And then I also invite you to a convergence of aligned (dragonfly) souls convergence [be the first to know about this experience in 2026]. It's not a conference, but rather a seasonal, four-day immersive and transformational experience to foster regeneration in ourselves as well as in what we seed: our urban environments. A living experience where heartbeat sessions replace strategy decks; where executives and founders become stewards; and where ancestral wisdom stands alongside future technology. Not to showcase the future, but to put it into practice. This is regeneration – from within and without – a river of life flowing toward the fire of renewal.

A Regenerative Homecoming

Shedding the essence of an old paradigm's skin is sacred work. As I wrote in "This Is Not a Comeback. It's a Becoming," the test isn't about returning to what we were, but about entering what we never were. This is where slow prosperity surpasses rapid collapse, where the spiral reweaves the fragmented line. Where we stop asking, "What can I take?" and begin asking, "What can I restore, and what wants to emerge here?" The land is a patient teacher. It reminds me that life regenerates when we step off the beaten path, that something opens when we trust the unknown. A regenerative home base is more than a building; it is a state of being, a sanctuary of freedom, life, and belonging. Nourished by water, rooted in the earth, and protected by love, you don't just live there, you become more alive. This movement is already germinating. Spread across continents, a mycelium network of places, people, urban projects and initiatives weaves memories back into reality.

Spreading the Seed

We return from this journey transformed. Our goal is no longer to conquer the world, but to nurture it. To plant ideas. To build bridges. To create and care for sanctuaries. As I wrote in 10 Reasons Why Urban Stakeholders Should Cultivate Regeneration, this isn't about "fixing" what's broken. It's about nurturing what wants to be born. The journey is no longer a straight path to a destination. It's the practice itself. The spiral. The map. We emerge not as isolated individuals, but as caring communities. Living systems. Bridges between the roots of the past and the seeds of the future. Here, in this shared sanctuary, we thrive. And here we flourish. Will you come home with us? The sanctuary awaits. And this time, it's alive.

Author:

Menno Lammers