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A shared exploration and mapping of endings and breakdowns

Before it breaks

A journey for those who wonder why and how relationships, teams, and organizations fall apart – and where the cracks begin.An invitation to explore these endings together, not just with answers, but through shared inquiry, embodied practices, and the courage to stay with what breaks.

Emotionskultur

By Ulrike Reimann

2025

The Invitation

Welcome to the art of falling apart — together. This booklet was born not only from curiosity, but also from pain — from the wish to prevent what seemed inevitable, from struggling against collapse, from often losing that fight, and from watching things fall apart, sometimes loud, sometimes in silence. Destruction is rarely named. It’s a barely explored territory — once we sense, but hardly understand. Especially in the spaces between us: in teams, organizations, and relationships. Over the years, I’ve gathered fragments — moments of clarity, tools that helped me navigate. Together with a few trusted colleagues, I began sketching a first map. It’s incomplete — and not meant to be finished. But it offers a starting point, a rough orientation in a field that invites exploration. “Before it breaks” is a living journey. It begins with what I’ve witnessed and learned, and is meant to grow — shaped by those who feel called to walk alongside. It’s a shared exploration. A weaving of theory and lived experience, grounded in Processwork and collective insight. Not a roadmap, but a companion for navigating the cracks and collapses of our time. My intention is simple: to open space for dialogue, depth, and shared learning — so that we can recognize the signals of destruction, respond with wisdom, and perhaps even grow stronger through it. I’m glad you’re here. I’m curious to see what you discover. Let’s walk this path together.

Why Me?

The Exploration Guide

Me / The Creator

You

The Map of Destruction

Starting Point Reflections

If you’ve felt the shift, the break, the quiet before the fall. You’re a facilitator, coach, trainer, team leader or change agent — a human being who senses when something is shifting. Maybe something is ending. Maybe something wants to be seen — but hasn’t been named yet. If you’re not only looking for solutions, but want to understand the deeper dynamics behind conflict, stagnation or collapse — if you care about the subtle signs, the unfinished and fragile — this journey might be for you.

What You’ll Explore and Practice

• How to detect subtle signals of change and unraveling.
• How to stay grounded during turbulent transitions.
• How to work with endings, not just navigate around them.
• How to respond with awareness instead of urgency.
• How to be a companion to systems in breakdown — without needing to rescue or fix.

If you’ve ... stood at the edge of something falling apart — and stayed.... felt lost between what was and what’s not yet. ... drawn to the unknown, even when it’s uncomfortable. ... believe endings deserve presence, not avoidance. If you sense that destruction, too, can carry wisdom. You are in the right place.

Not a Guide to Fixing — An Invitation to Presence This is not a handbook of strategies. It’s a compass for those moments when things no longer move forward — and yet haven’t clearly ended. It’s an invitation to pause. To notice. To stay. To listen when the system begins to tremble. To sense what destruction might be asking of you — and of us.

A Quiet ReminderThis path isn’t meant to be walked alone.It’s shared with those who’ve tasted endings — and still choose to stay close.

Ulrike Reimann

"Not to avoid the falling apart — but to become a little more capable of staying with it."

facilitator, educator and experience designer

For over 20 years, I’ve been exploring how we face what ends — individual, in communities, teams, and organisations. My path began with researching collective grief practices across Europe, leading to a book on mourning in community. But the inquiry didn’t stop there. Again and again, I’ve witnessed dreams collapsing, projects dissolving, relationships and organisations coming to an end — often unnamed, rarely accompanied. I believe we sense when something is shifting. I often feel when things begin to fall apart. But learning how to stay with it — and how to share this awareness with others — is still my practice. What sets my work apart is a longing to understand not only with the mind, but with the whole body. Again and again, I return to the body — to the inner movement, the quiet knowing that thinking alone can’t reach. And I return to the power of community. Some ruptures are too strong to hold alone. Without shelter — a moment of pause, of grounding, of holding — we cannot face certain storms.

Emotionskultur.org

Embrace Change.org

For me, working with endings remains a challenge. Not something to master, but something to keep practicing. Not to avoid the falling apart — but to become a little more capable of staying with it. What moves me most is this: when we step outside our personal stories, even for a moment, and realise we are part of a larger one — something older, deeper, that acts through us. That’s when reverence arises. And with it, a sense of direction — however fragile, however fleeting. This is what I offer: a shared inquiry. A space to explore, reflect, and practice. Rooted in lived experience, Processwork, and embodied methods — and shaped, again and again, by those who enter it.

Title 1

Why This Booklet Came to Life

Movements behind the Words

This is not just a project. Here are ten reasons why this booklet came to life — five born from light and joy, and five shaped by heaviness and loss.

• Because destruction has lived under my feet since childhood — showing up in dreams, in love, in loss.
• Because I’ve faced the silence when things end — and found myself without language, without tools.
• Because I’ve witnessed how the shadow of destruction can push a life toward the edge — and break the ones who stay.
• Because more often than not, I’ve accompanied endings rather than beginnings — and needed to learn how to feel, not just function.
• Because I no longer want to carry this alone — I long for others willing to stay with the fire, and not turn away.

• To open spaces where we can explore together what falls, what remains — and what may quietly begin again.
• To honour the energy that arises when we dare to look at what scares us — not as a thrill, but as a necessity.
• To share bits of wisdom, gathered through stumbles and stillness, and invite others to walk and wonder alongside.
• To create places that hold rupture without rushing to repair — spaces for collective inquiry, not quick solutions.
• To mark the completion of a long study journey — and offer this as a beginning for something shared.

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Exploration Guide

For easy navigation – use the icons, they will take you to the corresponding pages.

Refuge

Refuge is a space for grounding in times of disruption. It offers simple, body-based practices across six channels of perception: seeing, hearing, movement, body sensation, relationship, and world. Each practice includes one exercise for individuals, one for teams, and one for organisations — supporting presence, regulation, and connection when things fall apart. Refuge is a steady anchor throughout this journey — an ongoing invitation to return to your body, your resources, and the ground beneath you. Use it whenever you need to pause, reconnect, and stay with what’s unfolding — not by escaping, but by arriving.

THE MAP

To help you find your way through this lesser-walked terrain, I’ve created a map that outlines the themes we’ll explore together. This map highlights key topics that have emerged along my explorative journey — both alone and with others: topics, phenomena, and patterns that seem especially relevant when navigating the landscape of destruction. It’s not a fixed path or a checklist — but a loose compass for your own discovery. Some themes may touch you deeply — others might leave quiet questions behind.

Encounters

Field Notes

These seven encounters reflect phenomena that arise when things fall apart — in people, teams, and systems. Each one opens a different doorway into the landscape of endings and transition. They are invitations: to pause, to sense, to stay close.

Fieldnotes are questions and themes I encountered in the field – fragments of lived experience. These Fieldnotes are open and alive. They are poetic, not polished. Personal, but not confessional. Thoughtful, yet unfinished. They are not stories. Not explanations. They are invitations – to notice what trembles just beneath the surface. To think along. To feel with. To see again – or differently.

Concepts

Let your experience and curiosity guide you — follow your own pace, and what draws your attention. You can walk thi s path alone — or bring it into conversations, teams, and shared spaces of reflection.

Forces

This section brings together seven core concepts from Processwork, combined with other perspectives and frameworks. They offer orientation in times of breakdown, transition, or change — highlighting patterns that tend to emerge when systems begin to shift. Not as answers, but as lenses: to reflect, reframe, and stay close to what unfolds.

This collection names archetypal forces that signal the early stages of breakdown —subtle changes in atmosphere, engagement, or structure. They reveal underlying dynamics within people and systems, and invite us to notice what’s in motion before it becomes disruption.

Encounters

Forces

Concepts

Field notes

Every section is clickable, so you can go directly to what speaks to you.

Levels of Awareness

*The Unraveler*

High & Low Dream

*The Watcher*

*The Caller*

tHe Witness

Seeing, Naming

*The Witholder*

BrReaking Before Becoming

Signals, Flirts, Channels

The Destroyer / Destruction

Worldwork

The Destroyed The Broken

The Gate / Edge

Emergence Aftermath

tHe Vessel

Fore- Shadowing

Resistance

The Tipping Point

Roles & Ghost Roles

The Shared Collapse

*The Unretured*

*The Hollow*

The Fall

The Dreaming Body

Refuge

The Unknown

*The Warden*

The Flow

These Encounters are not a complete map or a marked path. They reflect phenomena that tend to surface in moments when destruction unfolds. Here, they can be paused with. Observed more closely. This is an invitation – to stand still for a moment, to listen, to witness, to begin to understand. Each of the seven Encounters explores a different facet of collapse – when things fall apart, shift, dissolve, or no longer hold. In people. In groups. In organisations. In transitions that are rarely chosen, yet often necessary. They are not steps or answers, but openings. To stay close. To notice. To enter into dialogue with what is ending – and what might emerge. You can move through them in sequence, or follow what calls to you. Read them alone or share them – in conversations, workshops, team processes, or learning spaces. This is a journey into the heart of breaking. And perhaps, something unknown will appear. Or begin.

Fore-Shadowing

Seven Encounters with the Breaking

The Destruction

The Destroyed

Meeting the forces, fractures, and invitations within collapse

The Fall

Seeing, Naming

Aftermath

Each encounter offers:

• a quote
• an introductory text
• condensed reflections and shifting perspectives
• questions for individuals, groups, and organisations

Flow

Title 1

What we call sudden was long in the making.

There is always something before the break.
 Before the explosion, before the rupture, before the “enough. ”
The field shifts. The balance tilts. The ground moves.
 Not suddenly—but gradually, subtly, atmospherically.
 There are signals, tremors, silences.
 Sometimes it’s a dream. A strange sentence. A sharp look.
 Sometimes it’s the absence of something that should be there. Fore-shadowing is the quiet language of change. It speaks through hesitation, pressure, repetition, dissonance. 
It’s not about predicting or controlling what’s to come—
but about sensing when the shape of things begins to change. This encounter invites you to become a reader of the field.
 To perceive the patterns, the tension, the signs that something is shifting. 
Not in order to stop it, but to stay close to its rhythm.
 To accompany what is already beginning to move.

Fore-Shadowing

Title 1

Deepening Perspectives & Frames

Processwork & subtle signals
 What seems minor or accidental—tensions, dreams, atmosphere—often carries the seed of what is about to emerge.
 → Arnold Mindell: Working with the Dreaming Body; The Deep Democracy of Open Forums Depth psychology & dream language 
The unconscious communicates through dreams, slips, and symbols long before conscious awareness arrives.
 → C. G. Jung: Man and His Symbols; Marie-Louise von Franz Myth & ritual transitions
 Mythical descents and endings are always preceded by omens, tests, or symbolic thresholds.
 → Myths of Inanna, Orpheus, Cassandra; Clarissa Pinkola Estés Systems theory & tipping points
 Complex systems begin to destabilize gradually—until a threshold is crossed and collapse becomes visible.
 → Donella Meadows: Leverage Points; Ilya Prigogine: Order out of Chaos Somatic intelligence & body as seismograph 
The body often registers what is coming before the mind understands. Tightness, hesitation, fatigue may precede rupture.
 → Peter Levine: Waking the Tiger; Bonnie Bainbridge Cohen Cultural knowledge & ancestral listening
 In many traditions, death and endings were sensed before they arrived—through animal behavior, dreams, atmosphere.
 → Stephen Jenkinson: Die Wise; Indigenous knowledge systems

Fore-Shadowing

Questions for Inquiry & Observation

For individuals / self-reflection


• What signs have I ignored before something ended?

• Can I remember a time when I sensed a change—but didn’t yet have words for it?

For teams / groups


• Where do we sense tension, pressure, or slowness in our group?

• What small signals might be pointing toward something bigger?

For organizations / systems


• What patterns are repeating, tightening, or silencing?

• How do we relate to early signals of change—do we listen, or do we override them?

Title 1

In every system, something must die for something else to live.

Sometimes destruction enters with force.
 Not as a slow erosion, but as a clear-cut gesture.
 A word. A confrontation. A sudden decision. A no more.
 This is the bang. It’s the moment that tears us from the path we clung to.
 The one that shatters the illusion of control.
 The one who speaks what no one wants to hear. The Destroyer is not always a person.
 It can be a dynamic, a withheld truth, a shift in atmosphere.
 But often, it finds a face.
 Someone becomes the one who breaks it open.
 And that person—right or wrong—is usually blamed.
 Blamed for disturbing the balance,
even when the system was already cracking underneath. In Processwork, this is the moment when secondary signals break through. 
A role that was kept at the edge suddenly takes center stage. 
The edge is crossed. The disruption is not random—it carries essential information.
 It might feel brutal, but it often speaks a truth no one dared to name:
 This can’t go on like this. This encounter challenges us to see—and to acknowledge—what we’ve ignored.
 Not to punish, but to make space.
 For something that has been missing—or left out.
 For something new. 
For something that refuses to stay hidden any longer.

The Destruction/ Destroyer

Title 1

Deepening Perspectives & Frames

The Destroyer

Processwork The Destroyer often represents a disowned role or energy that has been marginalised for too long.
 When it breaks through, it signals a crossed edge—a moment of transformation, not just disruption.
Destruction is not random. It insists on being seen, felt, heard.
 → Arnold Mindell: Processmind Mythology 
In mythic language, destruction often arrives through the Trickster or the Tower.
 These figures break illusions, reveal what’s stagnant, and interrupt the false order.
 → C. G. Jung: Archetypes, Tarot: The Tower, Loki, Kali, Shiva System theory 
Every system depends on feedback.
 When signals are ignored for too long, disruption becomes the only way truth can enter.
 Suppressed realities eventually surface—with force .
→ Donella Meadows: Leverage Points, Niklas Luhmann Cultural & group dynamics The Destroyer is often scapegoated for saying what the system already knows—but refuses to admit.
 They carry the blame for a deeper truth.
 → René Girard: Violence and the Sacred Moral & psychological perspectives 
Not all destruction is generative. But some forms of violence come from prolonged denial. 
The line between necessary ending and unresolved rage is thin—and demands reflection.
 → James Hillman: A Terrible Love of War

Questions for Inquiry & Observation

For individuals / self-reflection


• When have I been the one who ended something—and was treated as the problem for doing so?
• Where do I feel a destructive force inside me—one I silence, though it might carry truth?

For teams / groups


• Who in our group plays the role of the Destroyer—and what are they trying to show us?
• What might fall apart if we stop protecting what no longer works?

For organizations / systems


• Where does truth-telling get framed as disruption or betrayal?
• How do we react to those who name what others fear—and what does that reveal about our culture?

Title 1

The destroyed one carries pieces of the world no one wanted to see

There is always something—or someone—that takes the hit.
 The destruction becomes visible through them. Felt through them.
 A role, a place, a body carries the rupture.
 Something tears. Shatters. Falls.
 Something loses its place in the system—and cannot return. Then comes a silence.
 Not the silence of calm, but of absence.
 Nothing quite fills the space that’s been torn open. The destructed are not always people.
 Sometimes they are patterns, positions, forgotten parts of the whole.
 Their presence lingers—unspoken, yet carried. In Processwork, this is the realm of ghost roles and dreaming up:
 what is no longer explicitly here, but still shapes the field.
 The destructed may be silent, but the system remembers. When we rush to restore order, we risk missing the deeper invitation:
 to witness what was harmed,
 to listen to what still aches,
and to receive the truths that brokenness might carry. This encounter invites us to pause and sense into what has been broken or pushed aside—
not only visibly, but in the atmosphere, the edges, the body's knowing.

The Destroyed The Fallen

Title 1

Deepening Perspectives & Frames

Processwork Ghost roles, secondary processes, and dreaming up reveal what remains unspoken but active in the group field—roles at the edge of awareness that still shape the dynamic.
 → Arnold Mindell: The Deep Democracy of Open Forums Trauma theory 
Unacknowledged harm can fragment identity and group cohesion. Survival strategies emerge when wholeness is disrupted. 
→ Franz Ruppert: Trauma, Angst, Identität; Gabor Maté: The Myth of Normal Grief & collective loss 
Loss that is not mourned hollows out systems from within and creates a culture of avoidance.
→ Stephen Jenkinson: Die Wise – A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul Systems theory When feedback is ignored and structures are preserved without energy, systems become hollow. Breakdown then signals the need for fundamental redesign.
 → Donella Meadows: Leverage Points – Places to Intervene in a System Archetypal dynamics 
Figures like the Scapegoat, the Wounded One, or the Broken Vessel embody exiled truths and carry transformative potential.
 → Marion Woodman: Addiction to Perfection; Myth of Inanna; C. G. Jung: Archetypes Power & social theory Marginalisation, silencing, and passive exclusion are subtle forms of destruction that often go unaddressed.
 → Sara Ahmed: Living a Feminist Life; René Girard: Violence and the Sacred

The Destroyed

Questions for Inquiry & Observation

For individuals / self-reflection


• Where do I carry a sense of brokenness that no one sees—or that I don’t speak about?
• What part of me no longer functions as it used to—and what might it be trying to say?

For teams / groups


• What losses, fractures, or past failures remain unacknowledged in our team?
• Who or what is not present anymore—but still shapes our atmosphere?

For organizations / systems


• Where do we maintain forms that are energetically empty?
• What unspoken absence or injury continues to influence how we function?

Title 1

There’s a moment when holding on costs more than letting go. That’s when the fall begins.

There comes a time when holding on no longer works.
 When the structure, the story, the effort to fix—it all gives way.
 This is the fall. Sometimes it arrives suddenly: a breakdown, a crisis, a decision made elsewhere.
 Other times it creeps in—fatigue, disorientation, a slow erosion of clarity and cohesion.
 The fall is not always dramatic. But it is final. 
Something crosses a threshold—sometimes after standing there for a long time, holding on—and nothing is quite the same after. In Processwork, we speak of edge crossing:
 the moment when a secondary process breaks through and familiar identity no longer holds. 
It may feel like failure—but it’s also a shift into deeper contact.
 The fall strips away pretense.
It humbles. It exposes.
It aches—often in body and soul—and it should.
It makes visible what was too heavy to carry, too dangerous to name. But the fall is not only something that happens to us.
It is something we can learn to witness. 
To notice the exact moment when something gives way .
To feel what it’s like to stop resisting.
 To let the collapse unfold. 
To explore the movement within—without rushing to rebuild. This encounter invites you to ask:
 How exactly do we fall? 
What breaks inside us?
 What is the energy, the movement, the experience of the fall?
 What becomes visible in that moment?
 What can we learn from falling—not only as loss, but as practice? The wisdom of the fall is not in the landing. 
It’s in the surrender. 
In the in-between. In the trembling moment before something else arrives.

The Fall

Title 1

Deepening Perspectives & Frames

Processwork The fall marks an edge crossing—beyond the familiar, into the unknown.
 A secondary process breaks through; identity unravels.
 What falls is often the mask: structure, certainty, control.
 → Arnold Mindell: Working with the Dreaming Body Myth & Archetype 
Myths echo this descent: – The Tower (Tarot): collapse of false stability – Icarus: fall from illusion – Persephone & Inanna: descent and stripping before transformation Falling reveals a deeper self. → Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Marion Woodman Nervous System & Trauma Collapse is also physical. An overwhelmed system may freeze or dissociate. What seems passive may be deep protection. → Stephen Porges, Peter Levine Collective & PoliticalFalls are social too: – collapse of legitimacy – breakdown of meaning – fragmentation of communities They signal systemic fragility. → Judith Butler, Hannah Arendt, bell hooks

The Fall

Questions for Inquiry & Observation

For individuals / self-reflection


• What in me has already fallen—but I keep pretending it still stands?
• What’s the experience when I stop holding everything together—and allow the fall to unfold?

For teams / groups


• Where in our collaboration is something breaking—slowly or suddenly?
• What would it mean for us to fall together, instead of alone or in silence?

For organizations / systems


• What part of our structure or story is collapsing—and what are we avoiding by pretending it’s still intact?
• How might we practice falling—with awareness, instead of reacting from fear?

Title 1

Something reveals itself—not despite the pain, but through it.

Seeing doesn’t wait until the end.
 It can happen in the middle of the storm, during the breaking, or long after the silence.
 Sometimes, it is the break itself that makes something visible. This encounter moves through all moments of encounter—whenever something dares to show itself.
 Seeing—sensing—is revelation.
 Personal. Collective. Often archetypal. There are moments when something sharpens.
 A layer lifts.
 We see—not just with the eyes,
 but with the body, with the inner myth and wisdom.
Something shifts from background to figure.
 The wound begins to speak in images. In Processwork, this is the moment when a secondary process becomes conscious. 
When the unnamed begins to take form.
 When the figure at the edge enters the room. In myths and fairytales, this marks a turning point.
 The spell breaks.
 The curse lifts.
 The unnamed is finally called by name. 
The destroyer must be seen. The broken must be acknowledged.
You cannot simply look away—or turn up the music. Truth-telling is rarely dramatic.
 It is often quiet. But never harmless.
 Once truth is seen, it rearranges the field.
And once spoken, it cannot be taken back. This encounter asks:
 What do you see—beneath the visible?
 What wants to be named—not to be judged, but to be heard?
 And how much—and of what—are we willing to break,
 for something more truthful to begin?

Seeing, Naming, Truth-Telling

Title 1

Deepening Perspectives & Frames

Seeing, Naming

Processwork When a secondary process is seen and named, it enters the room. What was on the edge becomes central—and the whole field shifts. 
→ Arnold Mindell, The Deep Democracy of Open Forums Trauma & Integration 
What cannot be named lives on in the body—as tension, behavior, or silence. Naming is the first act of integration. → Bessel van der Kolk, The Body Keeps the Score Myth & Archetyp In myths, the act of naming is a turning point. The spell breaks, the hidden is revealed, and the truth-teller steps forward. 
→ Clarissa Pinkola Estés; Figures: Cassandra, Hermes Feminist & Political Perspectives Naming structures of harm is an act of resistance. Silence may protect comfort, but never truth. → Audre Lorde, Your Silence Will Not Protect You Team & Leadership Dynamics In organizations, what remains unnamed creates distortion. Speaking truth clears the air—but often invites discomfort first. → Amy Edmondson, Psychological Safety; Edgar Schein, Process Consultation

Questions for Inquiry & Observation

For individuals / self-reflection


• What truth have I been circling around—but not naming?
• What am I afraid might happen if I speak what I see?

For teams / groups


• What is everyone sensing—but no one saying?
• Who has tried to name something—and what was our response?

For organizations / systems


• What truths are structurally avoided here—and how does that shape our culture?
• Where is honesty discouraged in the name of harmony or professionalism?

Title 1

Not everything begins with intention. Some things appear when nothing is held.

Something has ended. Not fixed. Not repaired. Truly ended. And then—silence. No next step. No knowing. Just space. What emerges here can’t be forced. It doesn’t follow urgency or intention. It grows where old patterns have softened. Sometimes it’s a new role—not taken, but offered. A voice once silent. A connection with a different tone. Sometimes, it’s wisdom shaped by pain—embodied, not abstract. Sometimes it’s just a shift: more space inside the system. A quiet sense that something else becomes possible. But only if we don’t rush. Only if we resist the pull to return to what was. If we stay long enough with the emptiness for something real to speak. In Processwork, this is the threshold where the field begins to shift after collapse. There are no stable roles, no clear direction. What wants to emerge does so slowly—figures at the edge becoming visible, not by force but through presence. The system reorganises from within, through sensing rather than solving. It’s not about doing, but about staying near what has ended. Something begins to take form when we no longer try to manage what’s next. What appears is often fragile, unexpected—and quietly transformative. This encounter is an invitation: to listen. To wait. To not interfere. To let emergence be what it is—not an achievement, but a quiet consequence of having truly let go. It is not about rebuilding. It’s not about plans, visions, or knowing what’s next. It’s about being with what remains—long enough for something else to appear.

Aftermath Emmergence

Title 1

Deepening Perspectives & Frames

Aftermath Emmergence

Processwork After disruption and edge-crossing, the system reorganizes—not through control, but through deep process and atmospheric readiness. New figures, roles, or signals emerge—not because we call them, but because we make space. → Arnold Mindell, The Dreambody in Relationships Myth & Archetype 
After descent comes return—but not as the same self. Emergence follows dissolution. New forms rise from ashes, from soil, from silence. → Inanna, Persephone, the Phoenix, the Fool after the Tower (Tarot) Systems Thinking ISystems find new equilibrium only when old feedback loops are released. Transformation requires holding the in-between—without rushing back to the familiar. → Donella Meadows, Dancing with Systems Grief & Maturation Emergence is what grief leaves behind when it has done its work. What rises has texture, memory, and weight. → Francis Weller, The Wild Edge of Sorrow

Questions for Inquiry & Observation

For individuals / self-reflection


• What has become quiet in me—but not empty?
• What is softly asking to be lived now—not as a goal, but as a movement?

For teams / groups


• What new roles, voices, or patterns are beginning to appear in our group—if we slow down enough to notice?
• What happens when we stop trying to return to “how things were”?

For organizations / systems


• What patterns or relationships are shifting now that something has ended?
• Where might wisdom or direction be emerging—not from plans, but from space?

Title 1

There is a current beneath the pattern. It carries even when we forget.

What do we fall into when we stop resisting?Where do we return when the story breaks, when nothing more can be held? There is something that carries. It doesn’t need form or explanation. Some call it the processmind—the deep field beneath structure. It’s what holds us when systems lose control. What we find when we stop searching. In Processwork, this is the background awareness—quiet, alive, always moving. It doesn’t push or fix. It listens. It includes. When we follow it, something real begins to shift. Flow is not ease. Not harmony. It moves through grief, collapse, and stillness. Sometimes we reach it in silence. Sometimes through rhythm, breath, or simply falling. Maybe this is what we touch in refuge. Maybe this is where we return—changed, but more whole. Not everything must be rebuilt. Some things rejoin the river. This encounter asks: What keeps moving when all else stops? Where do we go when we stop shaping and naming? Not in retreat—but in surrender.

Flow

Title 1

Deepening Perspectives & Frames

Flow

Processwork Flow can be felt as the Processmind—the deeper intelligence of the field that holds all polarities, roles, and phases. It is not controlled, but followed. → Arnold Mindell, The Processmind Field Theory & Deep Democracy 
When edges soften, a wider field becomes available. Flow is not sameness—it’s the capacity for difference to move together. → Arnold Mindell; Gestalt Field Theory Systems Theory Complex systems self-organize when feedback and openness are present. Flow emerges when rigidity gives way to responsiveness. → Margaret Wheatley; Ilya Prigogine, Order out of Chaos Spiritual & Contemplative Traditions Many traditions speak of an undercurrent—a deeper presence beneath thought and form. Surrender is not collapse, but alignment. → Thich Nhat Hanh; Tao Te Ching; Meister Eckhart Somatic & Musical Intelligence Flow is felt in the body—in rhythm, breath, and movement. It often becomes accessible when cognitive control is released. → Bonnie Bainbridge Cohen; Anna Halprin

Questions for Inquiry & Observation

For individuals / self-reflection


• Where do I feel movement in me—even when nothing makes sense?
• When I stop trying to shape things—what do I fall into?

For teams / groups


• What moves us when we stop pushing?
• How do we recognize shared flow—and how do we resist it?

For organizations / systems


• What in our system feels alive—even without planning or control?
• Where are we trying to manage what might actually want to flow?

The Caller

When teams, relationships, or organizations begin to fall apart, it often doesn’t happen all at once. Something fades. Something cracks. A strange silence takes hold. Energy pulls back. These early signals are easy to miss—yet they matter deeply. The next pages explore such forces: moments when something in the atmosphere shifts, when connection weakens, or when familiar dynamics quietly repeat themselves. You can see these patterns emerge in systems under pressure, in transition, or nearing rupture. Each page offers one such forces. You'll find: – a short description of the phenomenon, – possible group or system dynamics behind it, – an archetypal figure that may be at play, - and a turning point or threshold that might invite change These forces are not failures. They are messages from the field—an invitation to pause and listen more closely.

Tracing the Forces

The Hollow

Get to know seven forces that appear when systems begin to break.

The Warden

The Watcher

The Unraveled

The Unreturend

The Withwithholder

Title 1

The Caller

The moment when what was ignored becomes undeniable.

In inner processes, in groups or organizations, early signals appear as subtle tensions, repeated themes, or quiet discomfort. Often, these signals are overlooked because they challenge the dominant identity or rhythm of the system. The caller embodies a turning point—a moment when what was once marginal now demands attention. From a Processwork perspective, this is an edge moment: a place where something secondary, something not yet integrated, rises to the surface. If avoided again, the system risks deepening its split. If met with curiosity, it becomes an opening. The figure who speaks here may carry the truth-teller role, often dismissed—now impossible to ignore.

The room falls quiet for a moment.Someone says something that cuts through the routine—too honest, too real to ignore.. It’s not the first sign, but this time, the silence that follows feels different. Something has shifted.

Group / System Phenomena

It repeats again.A comment lands heavy. Someone quits, someone snaps. What was background now speaks loud. The system knew—but didn’t act. Now, no one can look away.

Archetypal Dynamic

The truth-teller steps forward. Often ignored, sometimes mocked. They speak the unspeakable. The system tightens, then cracks. Some defend the old story. Others feel the pull to listen.

What have we already lost by not listening sooner?

Turning Point / Threshold

The choice is clear—turn away, or turn toward. Ignore it again, and the break will deepen. Face it now, and something true can begin. The price of silence is now on the table.

Title 1

The Hollow

IIn inner processes, in groups or organizations, The Hollow emerges as a subtle disconnection.It’s not absence, but a thinning of presence. The group continues—but something essential no longer flows. What was once alive is now missing in the room. In Processwork, we see the Hollow not as emptiness—but as a field force. He appears when the dreaming level withdraws, when pulse and meaning fade. There is still movement, even success—but something vital has gone still. It may signal burnout, numbness, or the quiet result of unspoken pain. The Hollow is not failure—it’s a force of forgetting.

When the space between us stops breathing.

The Hollow is present, but hard to name.He does not rage or resist. He moves quietly—flattening energy, dulling words, draining presence. Something no longer breathes between us, and no one dares to notice.

Group / System Phenomena

The Hollow flattens the field.Words are spoken, but don’t land. Meetings tick forward, but nothing moves. Curiosity is absent. Emotions withdraw. People orbit each other—but the space between has lost its warmth.

Archetypal Dynamic

The Hollow wears no face. Not chaos, not conflict—just absence. He removes the centre, numbs the pulse, silences the feeling. No voice rises. No one leads. People function, but stop reaching. The Hollow does not scream. He forgets.

Turning Point / Threshold

What are we no longer in touch with—just to maintain momentum?

Can anyone still feel the absence? Will someone risk breathing into the hollow space? Without presence, the system grows efficient—but soulless. The Hollow lingers wherever we stop feeling to keep going.

Title 1

The Warden

In inner processes, in groups or organizations, the Warden appears as control that feels stable—but tight. A surface of strength forms: performance, clarity, competence. Yet beneath it, vulnerability remains untouched. What protects may also constrain. In Processwork, we look for edges around vulnerability and identity—places where staying strong becomes a defense against deeper contact. The Warden protects, but also isolates. Doubt, exhaustion, and emotional truth may no longer have space. Resilient—but armoured. Rigid. The moment of truth comes not through more strength, but through the courage to soften.

Strength that hides exhaustion—disconnects.

Everything seems fine. Focused, efficient, on track. But the air feels tight. Smiles are swift, answers smoother. There’s no space for doubt, pause, or fatigue.

Group / System Phenomena

Teams operate like well-oiled machines.Output is high, focus is sharp. But relationships grow thin. Emotional signals go unnoticed. Fatigue hides behind productivity metrics.

Archtypal Dynamic

The armour is put on. Perfection, control, high performance. A polished image of strength— but that image becomes the weakness. Doubt feels dangerous. Emotion inefficient. Pain isn’t part of the script.

Turning Point / Thershold

What might become possible if we allow ourselves to be seen without the armor?

Exhaustion hardens into collapse. Until someone dares to soften—naming a limit, feeling aloud.. That’s where renewal begins.

Title 1

The Watcher

In inner processes, in groups or organizations, the Watcher appears at the edge—quiet, observant, often unnamed. Every system has figures who sense what remains unspoken. They hold tension, notice what others avoid. Their silence is not absence, but attention. To engage with the Watcher is to listen where no words have yet been found. In Processwork, this is the space of the ghost role, or the secondary process that has not yet entered the center. The silent watcher sees what others avoid. Their silence may protect, remain loyal, or stem from marginalisation. Unacknowledged, they hold a tension that eventually shapes the entire field. To engage with this watcher is to invite what has been left out—to hear what the group cannot yet speak.

Not everything that stays quiet is asleep.

Something shifts. The Watcher steps in. Quiet, alert, withdrawn.Not absent—but no longer participating. The conversation continues, but something unsaid thickens the air. Tension avoids eye contact. Politeness replaces presence. A subtle disconnection begins.

Group / System Phenomena

Tasks continue. Words flow. But eyes avert. Movement hesitates.Emotional presence fades. No rupture—just a thread loosening.

Archtypal Dynamic

Things keep moving.Something is sensed, but not spoken. A quiet figure at the edge—watching, holding back. In stories, it’s the third sibling. In life, it’s the loyal silence, the hidden truth. Silence may protect—or resist. But over time, it seals the unsaid.

Turning Point / Threshold

When silence sharpens, it creates distance. But if someone turns toward the Watcher— not to explain, but to stay close— a thread can begin to reconnect. What was sensed, but unspoken, finds room to breathe. The field begins to notice itself.

What becomes visible when we pay attention to what watches in silence?

Title 1

The Unraveler

In inner processes, in groups or organizations, the Fool enters from the side—through play, irony, or disruption. They say what others only feel. Their laughter loosens what is stuck, their timing disarms. The Fool doesn’t confront—they slip truth past the usual defences. What seems light can shake the ground. In Processwork, we might recognize this as a ghost role—a marginal presence that carries important energy not yet made explicit. The fool embodies this ghost with humor and unpredictability, creating just enough distance to let truth enter without confrontation. Whether ignored or embraced, their laughter marks a threshold: will the group follow the joke into its deeper message?

A crack in the system, carried by laughter.

Not everyone laughs.It’s funny, yes—but it lands too close to something unspoken. The room shifts. Laughter echoes, then disappears. Something just got exposed—without naming it.

Group / System Phenomena

Irony replaces honesty.Tension breaks, but clarity doesn't follow. The fool stands at the edge, not bound by the rules. Their laughter disturbs the structure—and unknots it, just a little.

Archetypal Dynamic

They disrupt, they mirror, they reveal. They carry truth dressed in play. Some feel exposed, others relieved. They smuggle truth in through play.

What truth is laughing at the edges of our story?

Turning Point / Threshold

Dismiss the laughter, and the system re-hardens. Listen to it, and the deeper message becomes visible. What was protected by silence has slipped into daylight—if only briefly.

Title 1

The Unretured

In inner processes, in groups or organizations, there is often a moment when something could return— an apology, a gesture, a shared acknowledgment. But no one moves. The moment holds its breath— and then it passes. In Processwork, we often explore the field of completion, the space where a cycle could close, where wholeness is possible. When this is missed, a subtle fragmentation lingers. The system continues, but something essential is absent. This absence, though invisible, shapes the atmosphere. The archetype here is the one who turns back—but this time, they didn’t.

When something was meant to return, but didn’t.

The moment has passed.A chance to reconnect, repair, return—was there. But no one took it. Now the absence is heavier than the conflict ever was. Something tried to return, but the door remembered being shut.

Group / System Phenomena

The group continues, but not together.A silence lingers where a gesture should have been. An apology, a pause, a meeting that never happened. The field grows colder. No rupture, no drama—just what never returned.

Archetypal Dynamic

The one who turns back, hand still extended. But the field has moved on— too proud, too tired, too unsure. The chance to make whole… missed.

Turning Point / Threshold

What never returned—and what would it take to invite it back now?

Will someone still turn around? Is it too late—or just uncomfortable? Without return, things remain unfinished. What didn’t happen keeps echoing through the room.

Title 1

The Witholder

In inner processes, in groups or organizations, withholding happens not out of fear, but out of function.The group keeps moving. The surface stays intact. But something essential is held back— and the deeper shift never happens. In Processwork, the Withholder appears when the system hovers above its edge. The dreaming signals are there—grief, unease, images at the margins—but the descent is blocked. Solutions are found too quickly. Emotions are named, not felt. The dreaming level stays sealed off. This is not collapse. It’s avoidance. And the cost is aliveness.

When the system avoids what must be faced.

There’s motion, but no shift.Ideas circulate, actions multiply. But the real issue lies beneath—unfelt, unspoken. Too raw, too complex. No one dares go there.

Group / System Phenomena

The group stays in function mode.Discussion replaces depth. Plans replace pause. The sense of urgency grows: Let’s move on. But something essential remains untouched. The system avoids the turn inward.

Archetypal Dynamic

The descent hasn’t happened. The underworld waits at the edge—quiet, insistent. Signals flicker: restlessness, unease, contradiction. But no one follows them. The guide is near, but not recognised. The surface is held. The fall postponed.

Turning Point / Threshold

Will someone slow down enough to feel?Will the group allow the discomfort to speak? Without descent, systems become efficient—but hollow. The deeper truth doesn’t disappear. It waits—just below.

What depth are we refusing—beneath all our clarity, movement, and care?

Roles, Ghost Roles

Theory & Concepts

In times of breakdown or transformation, we often long for orientation – a thought, a principle, a lens through which the chaos begins to speak. This section gathers selected concepts from Processwork and related approaches. They are not methods or step-by-step tools, but fragments of understanding – invitations to sense the deeper dynamics behind destruction in people, teams, and organizations. Each concept introduces a dynamic or pattern that tends to show up when things fall apart – and offers a way to reframe, reflect, or stay with what’s happening. Every concept includes three parts: What it means: A short introduction to the principle. When things fall apart: How this dynamic shows up in times of breakdown or transition. Wider lenses: Other theories or perspectives that might deepen your understanding. You don’t need to read these in order. Start where something resonates. Follow your own questions.

Reading the deeper logic behind destruction

High Dream

The Edge

Signals, Flirts

The Dreaming Body

Worldwork

Levels of Awareness

Title 1

Roles & Ghost Roles

Wider lenses

When things fall apartIn moments of destruction, some roles become scapegoated while others disappear. Often, the person who speaks a truth or brings discomfort carries a disowned collective role—the ghost becomes embodied. If no one acknowledges it, that person is blamed for what the system refuses to face. Collapse accelerates when ghost roles are denied or projected, instead of being invited into awareness.

Field theory: Unconscious roles shape group dynamics as much as spoken ones. → Gestalt therapy, Lewin, Mindell Scapegoating theory: Groups unconsciously expel disturbing truths by projecting them onto individuals. → René Girard, family systems theory Depth psychology: Shadow figures act through us until they are seen and integrated. → Carl Jung Organizational constellations: Excluded parts of the system continue to act until they are acknowledged. → Bert Hellinger, systemic coaching

Who Holds What?

What it meansEvery system is made up of roles—spoken and unspoken, visible and hidden. In Processwork, a role is not a job title, but a position in the field: a function, a voice, a perspective. Ghost roles are roles no one is officially taking, but everyone is reacting to. They may represent power, fear, grief, the unspoken past, or excluded futures. When ghost roles are not made conscious, they gain intensity and shape the field from behind the scenes.

Title 1

High Dream Low Dream

Wider lenses

When things fall apartIn the field of destruction, the broken dream is often the turning point.It shows up as loss of meaning, collapse of motivation, subtle betrayal, or exhaustion. People disconnect, harden, or retreat—not because they don’t care, but because something they longed for was never acknowledged. Destructive dynamics can signal that a collective hope has been abandoned. Naming the High Dream—and its loss—can reintroduce depth, dignity, or even forgiveness into the system.

Trauma theory: Betrayal of trust creates fragmentation and shutdown. → Judith Herman, Resmaa Menakem Psychological safety: When shared dreams fade, silence and disengagement follow. → Amy Edmondson Myth & symbolic narrative: The Fall from Eden marks the loss of shared innocence and the exile from belonging. → Genesis, Cassandra myth Organizational theory: Systems collapse when they can no longer access their deeper purpose. → Otto Scharmer, Margaret Wheatley, Peter Block

When Dreams break

What it meansIn Processwork, every individual, team, or system carries a High Dream—a deeper hope or vision that brought them together. It may be spoken or unspoken: trust, creativity, freedom, belonging. The Low Dream is the disappointment or disillusionment that sets in when that vision is violated, ignored, or lost. We don’t just argue about tasks—we grieve broken dreams. Conflict often arises not from what is said, but from what was once silently hoped for.

Title 1

Wider lenses

Gate / Edge

When things fall apartDestruction intensifies when systems approach an edge but don’t recognize it. Instead of pausing, they push forward, collapse, or attack. Crossing an edge takes energy—not every system is ready. Sometimes the pull from the unknown is too weak, or the push from the known not strong enough. We hesitate, circle, retreat. Some thresholds need to be visited more than once. Often, what breaks is not the system—but our ability to stay with the unknown. But if we remain, the edge can become not rupture—but opening.

Process theory: Edges hold the key to integration, not avoidance. → Arnold Mindell: Working with the Dreaming Body Transition theory: All meaningful change involves a liminal space. → William Bridges: Transitions Myth & ritual: Thresholds are sacred. Crossing them shifts identity. → Victor Turner: Liminality, Rites of Passage Embodied learning: The body senses edges before the mind does. → Stephen Porges, somatic coaching

The Threshold

What it meansAn edge is the boundary between what we already know and what is still unknown. In Processwork, it marks the point where a new part of the process wants to come in—but we hesitate, resist, forget, or turn away. Edges can show up through confusion, sudden fatigue, self-doubt, humor, or silence. They are not blocks to avoid, but invitations to shift. Crossing an edge doesn’t mean losing control—it means expanding into more of what is already present.

Title 1

Wider lenses

Signals,Flirts, Channels

When things fall apartDestructive patterns rarely arrive without warning. They show up early—as tension in a voice, a glance, an unfinished sentence, a nervous laugh. But systems often dismiss these signs as irrelevant or inconvenient. Instead of asking, “What’s this?” we move on. Over time, ignored signals become pressure. And what could have been curiosity turns into rupture. Flirts are invitations. When ignored, they may return as breakdown.

Somatic awareness: The body picks up signals before the mind can name them. → Peter Levine, Eugene Gendlin Embodied communication: Micro-gestures, hesitation, breath and tone reveal more than content. → Amy Cuddy, Stephen Porges Field theory: The group atmosphere carries messages—if we know how to listen. → Gestalt therapy, Arnold Mindell Early warning systems: Collapse can be predicted—if we take small signals seriously. → System dynamics, resilience research

Subtle Signs

What it meansIn Processwork, everything speaks—words, bodies, tones, silences. Signals are expressions of what is present: posture, tone, gesture, repetition. When signals contradict each other, they point to tension or complexity. A flirt is a subtle signal that invites attention—something small, unexpected, not yet conscious. We perceive these signs through different channels: movement, sound, vision, relationship, and body experience. Listening deeply means tracking not just what is said, but how the field itself communicates.

Title 1

Dreaming Body

Wider lenses

When things fall apartIn destruction, what cannot be spoken often appears elsewhere—through exhaustion, disconnection, strange moods, collective silence, or a single person’s tension. The dreambody holds what the system can’t say. It might show up as a restless foot, a dream fragment, a field of heaviness. These are not side effects—they are signals of deeper truths. When we listen to the dreambody, we begin to sense what lies beneath collapse.

Somatic trauma work: What we can’t express, we embody. → Peter Levine, Bessel van der Kolk Depth psychology: Symptoms and symbols are doorways to the soul. → C.G. Jung, Marion Woodman Field awareness: Individuals may carry experiences that belong to the whole. → Thomas Hübl, systemic constellations Embodied imagination: What the mind cannot grasp, the body dreams forward. → Stephen Aizenstat, Arnold Mindell

What Takes Shape

What it means Processwork, the dreambody is the expression of unconscious processes through physical, emotional, and symbolic experience.It can show up as symptoms, gestures, moods, images, or atmospheres—anything that carries meaning beyond the rational mind. The dreambody connects our inner world with what’s trying to emerge. It speaks not just through pain, but also through movement, rhythm, tension, silence, or unexpected imagination. To follow the dreambody is to trust that something meaningful is already unfolding—even when we don’t yet understand it.

Title 1

Wider lenses

Worldwork

When things fall apartCollapse rarely belongs to one person. Often, someone carries the weight of what the collective avoids: unspoken power, unresolved grief, a denied truth. These tensions live in relationships, in atmospheres, in shared bodies. When a system breaks, it may be because a ghost role has grown too heavy. But if we pause and listen—not just to individuals, but to the field itself— we may discover that destruction is the field's way of seeking balance.

Processwork / Worldwork: Conflict is the dreaming of the group. → Arnold Mindell: Sitting in the Fire, The Deep Democracy of Open Forums Systems thinking: What is not addressed recurs until it is integrated. → Peter Senge, Donella Meadows Collective trauma theory: Groups carry memory across generations. → Thomas Hübl, Franz Ruppert Ritual & indigenous knowledge: The field includes ancestors, place, and story. → Malidoma Somé, Sobonfu Somé, Joanna Macy

The Field Remembers

What it means In Processwork, Worldwork expands individual process into the collective field. It sees groups, organizations, and societies as living systems with their own roles, edges, ghost roles, dreams, and histories. In these systems, conflict is not random—it reveals what the field is trying to process. Even silence, tension, or chaos may be signals from something deeper that longs to be seen, spoken, or healed. The field remembers what was excluded. And sometimes, it speaks through us.

Title 1

Levels of Awarness

Wider lenses

When things fall apartTensions often build when awareness is stuck on one level. A conflict might appear to be about tasks (consensus reality), while emotional or symbolic layers remain unspoken (dreamland). Signals like body language, repetition, or confusion can point to a deeper level (Essence) trying to come through. Bringing awareness to these levels can transform conflict into insight, and resistance into meaning.

Multilevel perception: Reality is layered. Paying attention to small signals opens access to deeper patterns. → Indigenous knowledge systems, quantum perspectives Symbolic communication: Unspoken truths emerge through metaphor, gesture, or image. → Jungian psychology, art therapy, poetry of the body Systemic sensing: Groups carry collective fields; tuning into them reveals what's beneath the surface. → Process-Oriented Psychology, group field theory

Layers of what’s real

What it meansAwareness in Processwork is not static. It moves between levels—like layers of a field—each holding different truths. Some are visible and verbal, others sensed, dreamlike, or collective. In Processwork, awareness unfolds across multiple levels: - Consensus reality includes facts, roles, and what is spoken. - Dreamland holds emotions, projections, and symbolic meaning. - Essence level touches something beyond identity—core experiences of unity, timelessness, or deep knowing. These levels aren’t separate realities, but co-existing dimensions. They influence how people speak, react, dream, and relate—even when unnoticed.

Shared Collapse

Fieldnotes are fragments of lived experience – drawn from moments that resist quick interpretation. They are questions that lead to deep observation, noted and explored where something subtle began to shift, in or after moments of breakdown. Rather than analysing, they invite attention. A short title or image opens the space. Sensory impressions, emotional textures and embodied observations are followed by questions – not to be answered, but to be explored. Sometimes, echoes from theory, myth, or the body deepen the resonance. And often, a gentle gesture points outward again, inviting the reader to continue observing, feeling, listening. The Fieldnotes are open and alive – poetic, not polished. They are not complete stories or explanations. They are invitations to notice what’s unfolding beneath the surface. They are personal, but not confessional. Thoughtful, yet unfinished. A practice of shared perception in times of disruption..

Field Notes

Breaking before Becoming

Echoes from the Edge

Resistance

The Unknown

Tipping Point

The Witness

The Vessel

Title 1

There’s a sadness in my bodyBut also a strange wakefulness.
 Like someone is pulling me along, again and again —
you have to move, now here, now here.
 It’s not a void. It’s a force. A call. 
It breaks my sense of control
 and asks for something I haven’t fully agreed to.I feel we live in a time
 where things fall apart faster than we can hold them.
 So much collapses.
 And still, we try to stabilize.
 Try to keep the shape of something 
we know is already tearing. Between numbness and urgency. 
Between trying to rest
and feeling the ground move again beneath our feet. In groups, I witness the same:
 freedom and overwhelm.
 Less structure—but more pressure on the nervous system.
 We’re asked to hold what isn’t being held anymore. What’s missing is a shared language.
 A way to speak about what we’re in.
Instead, we blame, individualize, break apart—
as if it’s not the whole that’s shifting. Sometimes, I offer a chair.
 A railing.
Somewhere to pause for a second.
 But I’m still unsure what my role is
 when nothing wants to stay in place.

Shared Collapse

A movement I didn’task for

Questions & TensionsWhat is my task when I cannot hold things together?
 Can naming the collapse ever slow it down—
or does it make it more visible, more real, more inevitable?
 Where is the line between care and acceleration?
 What do I become 
when I stop trying to fix the falling?

Traces & Resonance“Staying with the trouble is our task.”
– Donna Haraway Systems fall apart when they can no longer pretend to function.
 The absence of structure doesn’t vanish – it settles into muscle, breath, gesture. What doesn’t hold, has to be held elsewhere—
or not at all.

Invitation to Further Observation • Where do you sense the pull of destruction taking you • What are you still trying to stabilize, even though it’s already falling? • How much of your energy goes into holding the illusion of continuity? • Where do you rest—if rest is still possible? • What if this isn’t your private exhaustion, but a shared one?

Title 1

Breaking Before Becoming

I’ve seen destruction lately.
 In a system where the old fights the new, not knowing how to meet.
 Where roles split, and something essential seems to be missing:
a view that holds it all.
 It’s cruel to watch.
 It’s not the end that shocks me—
it’s that I feel it coming, long before.
 In tensions.
 In repeated loops.
 In movements that try to restore balance,
but fall back into the same wound. Also, I lost a friend.
 He ended his life in the space between too much light and too much dark.
 Two polarities unable to speak. 
It wasn’t inevitable—
but something stopped flowing.
 And when the flow stops, destruction finds its own way.

The force that doesn't wait for permission.

Questions & TensionsWhen is destruction a natural ending—
and when is it a rupture because we blocked the becoming?
How do we know if something dies because it’s time,
or because we couldn't listen?
 Is every collapse just the next level insisting on itself?

Traces & ResonanceIn many stories, destruction comes when renewal is ignored.
The body often knows—before the words arrive.
What dies on one level may already be reborn on another.
We don’t always want that level.
 We want the one we’re still attached to.

Invitation to Further Observation • What if destruction is not failure, but something breaking through us? • Can you tell when something ends naturally—and when it ends because it wasn't allowed to become? • What do you feel just before the crack appears? • What part of you tries to hold on to what wants to move on? • What dies on one level—so something else can start elsewhere?

Title 1

Resistance stops my breath.
 It makes me hard, makes me turn away.
 A shield, a wall, a last effort to restore what once was.
I try to protect something that already started to fall.My thoughts become stories—
stories of duty, responsibility,
of what I should hold together,
of what shouldn’t fall apart. There’s grief in this too .
I’ve tried to protect teams, relationships, structures—
tried to rebuild an order I believed in.
 But what I rebuild is never truly new. 
It's the old form, reinforced, re-glued, repainted.
I try to add something.
But deep down, I know it’s not visionary—it’s preservation. Sometimes I just close my eyes.
 Turn away.
Try not to see. The price of resistance?
 Exhaustion. Guilt. Loneliness.
 But also: dignity.
The sense that I wrestled with fate.
That I tried.
 That I didn’t let go without witnessing it. What if resistance is not just a blockage—
but part of the creation?
 What if something is being born 
in this struggle between what wants to go
 and what still wants to stay? In my inner world, resistance isn’t a solo figure.
It’s a couple.
 Two forces in intimate tension,
straining, holding, collapsing into each other.
It’s not quiet.
 But it’s deeply alive.

Resistance

The fight I didn’t win

Questions & TensionsWhat do I protect when I resist destruction? 
What roles do I take on—savior, repairer, denier? 
Is resistance a betrayal of the future—or a fierce loyalty to the past?
 Can resistance also be part of what births something new?

Traces & ResonanceResistance is rarely gentle.
 But it is deeply human.
 It can be a form of care. 
It can be a form of fear. 
It can be a final love song to what shaped us. Some systems are held together only by the force of resistance.
 Some fall because that force grows silent.
 And some transform only because resistance made the break visible.

Invitation to Further Observation • Where does resistance live in your body? • What are you currently holding up that may already want to fall? • What part of you still believes it must fix what’s collapsing? • What is the cost of continuing to resist? • What would shift if you saw resistance not as a problem—but as a signal? • Could resistance be your part in the birth of something unknown?

Title 1

It doesn’t always announce itself.
Sometimes I just land there—like falling into a gap I didn’t see.
It’s rarely gentle at first. 
The moment just before is full of friction: holding on, tightening, trying to name, to grasp.
 But once inside, it becomes… light. Wide.
 A strange space with different rules. 
No straight lines. No control. 
A pause I didn’t choose, but somehow need.In projects and relationships, this moment often comes when things start to fall apart—
when what used to work doesn’t anymore,
 when the answers are no longer convincing,
 when the map no longer fits the terrain. It’s not a failure. But it feels like one.
Because Not Knowing isn’t part of most professional languages. 
It’s not rewarded.
And yet, it’s the only place where something truly new can begin. It has its own rhythm.
 Not slower, but more erratic.
 Long silences, then flashes of insight.
 No clarity on demand.
 And no guarantee that we’ll find the way out together. Still, when I make space for it—in a team, a process, a conflict—
there is breath.
 A different kind of presence. 
Not soft, but open.
 Not safe, but real.

The Unknown

The Edge of Certainty

Questions & TensionsWhen does Not Knowing become an excuse to not show up?
 When does it become an act of courage?
Who gets to not know in an organisation—and who doesn’t?
 What if clarity isn’t the task right now?
 What emerges when I stop performing certainty?
 What part of me insists on knowing—just to stay in control?

Invitation to Further Observation • Where are you pretending to know—just to keep things going? • What happens in your body when no one in the meeting knows what to do next? • Where could not knowing be a shared practice instead of a private shame? • Listen for the moments when the air shifts—when the answer fades and a different question arrives. • What would it take to stay a little longer in that space of Not Knowing?

Traces & ResonanceIn mysticism, not knowing is not a lack—it’s the doorway.”The moment I empty myself, something else can speak. 
The destroyer comes when the story is too tight to breathe.
Not knowing may not protect us, but it can keep us true.
There is a kind of love in admitting: I don’t know yet.

Title 1

I rarely notice the tipping point itself.
But I do notice what comes before.
 The signs are always there—
a warning, a quiet voice in the room,
a gesture that says: this is not okay.And still, it continues. Someone names the breach. 
But the breach continues. 
It gets repeated—again, and again, and again.
 And with each repetition, the pace quickens.
Hope thins.
 Trust retreats.
 And the balancing gestures fade. Then something else appears:
a collective fatigue. 
People withdraw. Stop speaking. 
The movements don’t align anymore.
 The gentle thread that once held us together—
is no longer holding. No one shouts.
 But no one stops it either.
 And then: it tips. 
Not all at once. 
But in that shared decision
to no longer resist
what we’ve all known for a while.

The Tipping Point

And with it: the shift.

Questions & TensionsWho speaks the warning—and who chooses not to hear it? What becomes unbearable before it breaks? When do we stop trying to mend—and why? Is there a moment when silence becomes agreement? What are we no longer willing to hold?

Traces & ResonanceIt squeaks before it breaks. Louder each time. Always at the same point. Not different people— but the same pain, repeating. Until the door finally gives way. There’s relief in the silence that follows. But also grief. Because we all knew. And we all let go.

Invitation to Further Observation • What if the tipping point is not a warning, but a choice we already made? • Where is something already tipping—yet everyone pretends it’s still stable? • What are you silently waiting for someone else to say or stop? • What are you no longer willing to hold together, alone?

Title 1

The Witness doesn’t arrive.
She doesn’t enter the room.
 She is already there—
in the corner of the field,
in the breath between words,
 in the silence after someone spoke the truth too soon.We don’t always notice her.
 And even when we do,
we don’t always want to listen.
 Because she sees what we’re not ready to admit.
 The end.
 The missed moment.
 The futility of effort. 
The pain that is already unfolding. And still, she stays. It takes strength to witness destruction.
 To hold the gaze without turning it into rescue.
 To remain close without losing ground. 
To feel the grief and not confuse it with failure. To be asked to speak,
but only when invited.
To respond without accusation.
To stay without numbing. And sometimes,
she is not alone. Sometimes there are many Witnesses,
spread across the field,
not always recognizing one another,
but each carrying a part of the gaze,
each holding a fragment of the weight.

The Witness

The one who looks at what others avoid.

Traces & ResonanceShe sees the struggle in everything. 
The limits.
 The letting go.
 And still she remains.
 Not passive. Not removed.
 But grounded.
 Present. A wise elder in the room. Sometimes she stands alone.
Sometimes there are others—scattered, silent, watching. 
They may not know each other,
 but they are part of the same seeing.
 A net of presence.
 A quiet constellation. There’s a rare kind of compassion: 
to mirror without rescuing,
 to name without blaming,
to see and still stay. And sometimes—
to carry the weight of what was not heard.

Invitation to Further Observation

• What truth have you seen—but held back from speaking?

• What would it take to stay—just to stay—when the break begins?

• Who else might be watching, quietly, across the field?

• Could you recognize another Witness—without words?

• Can you trust that your presence, your seeing, your echo—matters, even when nothing changes?

• What if the greatest act of love is not to fix—but to remain close, and clear?

Questions & TensionsWhat does she see—that we are trying not to feel?
 What is her presence holding back from collapse?
 Is witnessing ever enough?
 Where does witness end—and complicity begin?
 What happens when she speaks—and no one listens?

Title 1

The Vessel

The shape that breaks — and the one that catches.

Something in me believes: for anything to break, there must first be a vessel. A shape that holds. A tension. When things fall apart—a team, a relationship, a structure— what breaks is not just the thing, but the form that once held it. We often speak of destruction. Less of what holds it. Or who. I’ve learned: I can be the vessel for my own falling—when I soften, allow. And sometimes for others—making disintegration visible, real. But not always. Sometimes I couldn’t hold it. And things broke differently. Scattered. Lost what they could have become. Being a vessel means double presence: fluid enough to fall, stable enough to hold. In teams, this role is often unnamed. Invisible labour. Often assumed. Rarely honoured. Without it, breaking turns chaotic. Not transformation, but disappearance. Something wanted to become— but there was no bowl to catch it.

Questions & TensionsWhat breaks when the vessel is missing? 
What does it cost to become the holder—again and again? 
When is refusing to be a vessel an act of care—or survival?
 What happens in teams when no one holds the invisible roles?
 Can we share the holding—without freezing into it?
What if the vessel is not a structure, but a moment of presence?

Traces & Resonance Some say: to create, there must first be a container.
 In Processwork, the “container” is not neutral—it is the field, the awareness, the presence that can hold tension. 
In myth, the sacred often arrives in broken vessels.
The body, when softened, becomes a holding space for grief, rage, joy.
 The absence of a vessel is a kind of violence—
but so is being one, alone, for too long.

Invitation to Further Observation

• Where are you currently acting as a vessel—consciously or not?
• What would change if the group named the invisible holders?
• In which moments have you refused to hold—and what happened then?
• Notice where something begins to fall—
and what, if anything, is holding it.
• What does your own body know about holding—and being held?

In the midst of destruction, rupture, and transformation, we need spaces that offer support.Refuge is such a space — a place where slowing down becomes possible, where self-regulation is encouraged, and where connection can be felt again. It remains accessible — before, during, or after engaging with destructive dynamics. It speaks to individuals, as well as to groups and organisations. Refuge invites us to pause without withdrawing. Not as an escape, but as a conscious act of presence and care. When we face endings and dissolutions, we often encounter our own fragility, unanswered questions, or somatic responses. Refuge offers grounding practices across six channels of perception: seeing, hearing, movement, body sensation, relationship, and world. Each practice includes short, accessible exercises — for individuals, teams, and organisations — designed to support regulation, awareness, and reconnection with the present moment. These practices are not about stepping away, but about arriving. Use them whenever you need a place to pause, to steady yourself, or to return — gently — to where you are.

Refuge

Visual Channel

A Place of Reconnection – Protection – Grounding – A Pause in Transition

Auditory

Movement

Body Sensation

Relationship

World

Title 1

For Groups / Teams Looking Together: Enter a space (physical or virtual) that shows traces of time—messiness, wear, layered structures. Each person selects a small section and describes what feels soothing, touching, or irritating. → Where is beauty in imperfection? → What provides steadiness because it’s not perfect? → What becomes visible only through shared looking? Note: If emotions arise, allow pauses. Not everything needs to be shared.

Visual / Seeing

Practice: Holding – Seeing Collapse Differently

This practice invites you to view disintegration not only as a rupture, but as part of aliveness. The visible often carries quiet knowledge—about change, time, and transition. When we look with calm, we may notice traces that don’t threaten us, but touch us.

For Individuals Seeing with the Heart: Find a spot or small detail showing signs of decay—a weathered leaf, a crumbling wal l, a messy table. Pause and soften your gaze.If thoughts arise, notice them without following. → What touches you in this image? → What reminds you of your capacity to change? → What might be beautiful or peaceful in the imperfect? Optional: Capture what moves you with a photo, sketch, or words. You don’t need to understand. Just see.

For Organiations / Systems Honouring What Has Been Lived: Take time to observe what’s already here—what has been used, aged, or carries history. → Which spaces, objects, or routines tell the system’s story? → Where is disintegration a sign of change, effort, friction? → What in your organisation calls for recognition before being "optimised"? Optional: Create a photo wall of these lived traces—as a quiet act of appreciation.

Title 1

Auditory / Hearing

For Groups / Teams Listening to the Silence Between: Together, listen to your environment for two minutes—in silence.Then take turns describing what stood out: → What was present? What nearly missed? → Were there moments of stillness, tension, peace?→ Which sounds reflected something about you? Note: Allow for unknowing. It need not make sense—just resonance.

Practise: Sound of Collapse – Listening to the Unheard

This practice invites you to meet destruction not just with the mind, but with the ear. Disintegration is sometimes not seen but heard—in side-comments, pauses, sighs, silence. When we listen without interpretation, we can sense connection—to what is changing, saying goodbye, or quietly emerging. The ear opens a portal to the present. And to the unconscious.

For Organisations / Systems Listening to What Holds: Organisations have their own soundscape—the hum of operations, the flow of communication, the silence between roles. → Where does the system sound alive? → Which voices bring calm, connection, spaciousness? → What sounds evoke care, rhythm, belonging?Invitation: Choose a sound or piece of music together (e.g., leadership circle or team check-in) that expresses connection. Listen to it together for 2–3 minutes. → Notice what changes in the space. → Maybe you’ll use it as a ritual—a return to togetherness before making decisions.

For Individuals Listening Without Intention: Sit in a place with ambient sound—indoors or outdoors. Let the sound reach you without searching.What’s in the foreground? What lies beneath? → Is there a tone that calls to you? → What do you not want to hear right now? → Which sound reminds you of transition, loss, or something just beside or beyond? Optional: Hum or gently vocalise a tone that fits your mood.Notice what shifts in your body when you make yourself audible.

Title 1

Movement

For Groups / Teams Moving Side by Side – Finding Shared Rhythm Begin standing or sitting. Each person tunes into their own micro-movement—a gentle sway, circling, or rocking. Then, gradually shift awareness to the group: → When does a shared rhythm emerge? → What changes when everyone coexists in their own rhythm rather than syncing? Optional: Close with a common gesture, such as lowering your arms or exhaling together.

Practise: Carrying – Holding Collapse Through the Body

When everything is in motion—even what once felt steady—the body can become a place of grounding. This practice invites you to sense reconnection through the smallest movements: a return to your own strength, rhythm, and presence. The aim is not to change anything, but simply to be with what is.

For Individuals Small Waves – Micro-Movements for Stability Find a seated or standing posture that feels comfortable. Begin to gently shift your weight—from one foot to the other, or by slowly rocking your spine forward and back. → Where do you feel held? → Which movements calm you without effort? → Where in your body do you sense space opening? Optional: Place one hand on your chest or belly. Let a quiet sentence accompany the motion, such as: “I am here.”

For Organisations / Systems Rhythm Before Action – Movement Breaks in Everyday Work In fast-paced phases, systems often lose their natural rhythm. Invite yourselves to reintroduce short pauses for movement or breath—2-minute resets in meetings, conscious transitions between tasks. → Are there existing rituals (e.g., standing breaks, walks, rhythmic check-ins) that support reconnection—also to the theme of transformation? → How does your organisation move through times of change? → Which movements are missing—such as moments of stillness? → What simple gesture would currently strengthen your system?

Title 1

Body Sensation

For Groups / Teams Mini Tapping or Shaking Ritual – Before or After Intense Topics Guide a short shared sequence: → gentle tapping on arms, shoulders, legs (using flat hands or fingertips) → or 1 minute of relaxed shaking together – with music or in silence → Follow with a quick check-in: What has shifted? This practice helps regulate emotional or cognitive tension through the body – especially useful in challenging conversations or meetings.

Release – Finding Movement in What Feels Stuck

When systems or life plans begin to crack, something in us often seizes up – muscles tense, breath halts, energy gets stuck. This practice invites you to bring movement into that stuckness. Not through force, but through simple, rhythmic impulses.

For Individuals Shaking Practice – From Head to Body Stand with your feet hip-width apart, knees soft. Begin gently shaking your body – start with your legs, then your arms, until your whole body moves lightly. → Let your breath flow naturally. → Shake for 2–3 minutes, then come to stillness and feel what’s shifted. Questions for sensing: – What feels different now? – Where is there more space, flow, or grounding? Optional: As you shake, imagine you’re releasing old patterns – like dust shaken off a garment.

For Organisation / Systems Embedding Embodied Rituals – Bringing Somatic Micro-Practices into Daily Life Encourage teams or departments to find simple physical rituals that can serve as regular resets: → A “shake-it-out spot” in the office? → A 1-minute movement practice to open team meetings? → Small somatic interventions (like placing a hand on the heart) to begin difficult conversations? → When does the system benefit from “letting go” – not as a loss of control, but as a conscious practice?

Title 1

Relationship

For Groups / Teams Connection Despite Difference In a circle or trusted setting: – Each person silently chooses someone in the group with whom they haven’t felt fully connected today. – Then, taking turns (voluntarily!), each person shares something they appreciate about that person – a quality, an action, or a presence. → The aim isn’t resolution, but recognition. → Connection doesn’t need to be perfect – it can still be held, even when differences remain.

Holding in Connection – Sensing Relationship When Systems Falter

Disintegration doesn’t only affect structures – it often begins with the subtle threads between people. Relationships hold, carry, reflect. And sometimes, they break. This practice invites you to consciously connect – with others, with yourself, with what still holds or once held you. Not to fix something, but to experience memory, connection, and co-regulation as sources of strength – even amidst unravelling.

For Organisations / Systems Invisible Connections Reflective questions for leadership teams, team reviews or strategy workshops: – Who truly holds this system together – beyond roles and titles? – Which people bridge departments, ease tensions, create quiet cohesion? – Who tends to the atmosphere, fosters trust, brings humanity – even when it’s not visible on the organisational chart? → Acknowledge them. Name them. Maybe with a card, a gesture, a thank-you. → This doesn’t only strengthen relationships – it strengthens the system as a whole.

For Individuals Touch as Relationship Place one hand gently on your heart, your neck, or your shoulder – wherever feels right for you. Close your eyes. Imagine someone familiar touching you – someone who truly saw you, perhaps someone who’s no longer here. Breathe. Let yourself be held – by memory, by warmth, by a sense of belonging. → If it feels supportive, you can enhance the sensation by placing a cloth or clothing between your hand and your body.

Title 1

World

For Groups / Teams Clarifying Boundaris – What Belongs to Us? Place a symbol representing your team in the centre. Around it, scatter notes with words like: pressure, fear, future, change, courage, trust, exhaustion. Then reflect together: – What currently lives within us? – What comes from outside, but is affecting us internally? – What do we choose to leave outside, because it doesn’t serve us? → This practice strengthens collective self-awareness and helps separate internal responsibility from external overlays.

Holding in the Field – When Change Is Bigger Than Us

Sometimes it’s not “my” pain or “our” crisis – it’s the field pressing in: societal ruptures, systemic uncertainty, atmospheric tension. In the world channel, we sense the larger whole – often without being able to name it. These practices help you find ground again and consciously connect with the deeper forces that still hold us, even in the midst of collapse.

For Individuals My Small Circle – A Protective Space Within the Vastness Mark a circle on the floor – using a rope, ribbon, chalk, or simply your imagination. Step inside with intention. Breathe. Feel the ground beneath you. Let the outside stay outside: voices, expectations, the state of the world, the rush. → What belongs to you today – and what doesn’t? → Who might you be without the pressure of the field? → This practice creates a safe reference point, allowing you to approach the larger forces at your own pace.

For Organisations / Systems Lines of Strength – What Holds Us Together?In a leadership circle, retreat, or shared reflection space, ask: – What carries our system beyond structures, strategies, or metrics? – What invisible threads hold us through change – such as relationships, memories, values, shared visions? – Which of these strength lines are at risk – and which are anchoring us right now? Optional: → Make these strength lines visible – as “organisational roots” in a room, a document, or a digital collage. → This practice is a reminder that organisations are more than systems: they are living relationship spaces that can still be held, even through disintegration.

Thank you

I thank you. You who walked with me on this path through the fields of destruction –
at times quiet, at times wild, at times unclear. Magdalena, Josef, Emanuel, Max – as teachers and mentors.
 Mara, Ebru, Lucie, Birgit, Meriem – as vital companions.
And so many others from the ProcessWork world,
who held questions with me,
moved through tremors,
and touched what could not be spoken. Thanks to the Arte del Processo school,
 where my path in Processwork began –
and whose dream of community, with all its tensions, kept resonating within me. I thank life itself.
The night-time teachers who brought me images and experiences 
of breaking, of endings, of what might come after the fall. I thank the encounters,
the painful separations,
the moments that forced me to find words for what remained unfinished. To those who carried my excitement –
and the urgency to stay with this strange, relentless theme.
 To those I walked partway with, before the project changed shape. Thank you for your patience. 
It took time. Three years.
 No clean ending. Many loops.
 And yet: one more round.

I thank the I Ching, the Book of Changes, which teaches me to listen, to shift, to fall, and to see again. And I thank life –that shakes me, teaches me,lets me glow. That places me where I belongand says: Look –you are not ready. You did not choose. Still –it’s time. Let go. Move.

Finally,A Pause Along the Way

This is a resting place – not an end. A moment to pause, to listen inwards, and to feel what still echoes around and within. Perhaps even a moment to find fellow travellers – those also navigating the terrain of destruction: curious, cautious, courageous. This journey continues. New interactive formats and deeper explorations are already knocking and calling – seeking to make the invisible more tangible, and to strengthen our capacity to stay present with what is falling apart. A kind of workout for inner flexibility, resilience, and attentiveness. And still, a dream remains: a gallery of lived experience – open, evolving, collective. A space to gather stories, questions, and traces. Not as a fixed archive, but as an invitation to keep sensing, exploring, and moving together – through the landscapes of destruction and beyond. August 2025

A moment between what has been and what may come

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