Complexity isn’t chaos. It’s life in its fullest form, interdependent, unpredictable, alive. Our work may not be to solve it, but to weave it, thread by thread, into something that holds us all.

We’ve spent centuries pulling things apart. Rational versus intuitive. Individual versus collective. Sacred versus secular. Work versus life.

As I started reflecting on complexity, I realised how often I've been told to simplify. To make things clear, efficient, linear. And there's beauty in that. After all, it’s comforting to believe that if we pull a problem apart into smaller pieces, we’ll find the answer. And sometimes we do. But life, work, and people rarely cooperate with our need for order.

Complexity as a way of seeing

“In this world of interconnected systems, nothing living lives alone.” Meg Wheatley 

Complexity reminds us that everything is interdependent: our ideas, our relationships, our wellbeing, our organisations. It helps us see that not all challenges are the same. Some are simple and can be solved with best practice. Others are complicated and need expertise.

Yet, I wonder if truly complex problems like culture, trust, or learning can be solved in advance. They need pattern-sensing, experimentation, and humility. Complexity asks for curiosity, not control. It invites us to move from knowing to noticing.

The art of braiding

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage.” Rainer Maria Rilke 

I’ve started to think of complexity as a kind of weaving that brings back together what feels opposed. Rational with intuitive. Fast with slow. Ambition with rest. Then tension transforms into wisdom, if we stay with it long enough.

Instead of getting rid of complexity, what if we braided it. To create something stronger from strands that seem to pull against each other. Paradoxically, by weaving opposing ideas together, we sometimes find a clearer pattern. This brings us back to what is simple, steady, and true.

Complexity in practice

Complexity seems ever present. In leadership conversations where performance and wellbeing both matter. In classrooms where balancing knowledge and creativity cultivates mastery. In relationships where independence and interconnectedness helps us flourish.

Perhaps we don't have to choose one over the other; rather we must begin weaving the threads together. And maybe maturity is learning to hold contradictions without rushing to collapse them.

This week

Try these small practices for noticing the braids in your own life:

1. Reach in and notice the threads. Think about a challenge that feels tangled. Instead of reducing it, name the different threads at play (e.g., personal, relational, structural, emotional). Sometimes naming them helps us make new connections.

2. Reset and replace “either/or” with “both/and.” When you catch yourself choosing between two opposites ask what it might look like to hold both. Complexity thrives in the space between.

3. Reach out and create a conversation of contrasts. Talk with someone who sees the world differently. Not to debate, but to braid perspectives. Wisdom often begins where difference meets curiosity.