If you asked someone to recall a moment when they felt really, truly alive, they might describe it with words like ecstatic, euphoric, awakening, flow, vision. Like the mundane and commonplace take on new and more animated meaning around them. That is to say, they don’t alter reality or bend the world toward themselves, but rather feel their inner person change and rise up with renewed hope in their current circumstances. Their minds are renewed, their imaginations are stirred, and they re-engage their work with a new creative impulse.
I’ve always been burdened with a fanciful imagination. At points in my childhood and young adult life, I’ve had painful moments where realists have had to reign in an idea that felt completely plausible in my mind. Once, around age 7, I came upon an 8th grade Geology textbook and took an interest in the chapter of the earth’s sediment layers. When I saw “crude oil” conveniently located underneath topsoil and clay layers, I grabbed my spade, headed to the middle of our backyard, and got to work. I was no fool, I knew that with some elbow grease I could really improve my family’s financial standing. My dad, one of the realists, had to break the news that I probably had the wrong tools, and that our backyard may not be the best spot for an oil refinery. Location, Location, Location.
At 36, my imagination is still fanciful, but I’ve learned that a crucial part of how to work well is with some realistic accountability. Entering this program, I hoped to meet others who would sit with me, consider an idea, and challenge me on where it needed work, watering, or a reality check. I felt this need because I have heard from plenty of antagonists, realists, and pessimists who simply struggle to imagine how my idea might fit within the current paradigm of how business is done.
Imagining in our current context is especially hard work. It requires not only a specific end goal to work towards, but also an understanding of the current markets, systems, and zeitgeist to work in. Many of my conversations before and during this program have sadly revealed just how little hope others allow themselves to have. To many, current circumstances feel so bleak and determined, that articulating dreams sound like shrill pontificating before a major storm. Material concerns, grief over lost ways of working, and uncertainty over how old wisdom applies to a rapidly changing new world all push toward a breakdown of imagining together.
But this environment is exactly why cultivating a community of dreamers is so crucial. The forum creates a culture of shared language, expectations, and even symbols! Just as in a physical garden, the garden motif emphasized that our seeds (dreams) may be ideas ready to plant, concepts that may belong in a different context, or even personal limitations we needed a supportive community to acknowledge and overcome. For me, the focus on cultivating this dream slowly and doing it together gave a rare opportunity to develop this idea in the same way I hope to eventually execute with clients … I learned about others’ struggles and fears, their hopes and goals, and I did it over the course of a several-month process. That is exactly the kind of deep, ethnographic inquiry I hope to provide to clients, in service of a reimagined, trust-oriented business development model.
So, I’m ending this season with a stirred imagination. I’ve come away with the knowledge that there are people and networks to engage when the timing is right. I know there are opportunities and supports available. I know there are people who, even in these difficult times, enjoy the hard work of cultivating dreams. And I have made some friendships that will last a long time.
Jason is part of the 2026 GreenHouse Cohort. The “seed” he is cultivating: Human insight, built through relationship. I’m hoping to cultivate a high-touch research practice for builders who know that speed and optimization can erode clarity, quality, and integrity. Through ethnography and relational research, we turn deep listening into action.