Cockatoo tribe woke one morning to an eerie silence. No dawn birdsong, no bushland creatures stirring, no rustling breeze, no ocean roar. The Cockatoo people gathered around the camp fire.

“What is this silence?” asked Black Cockatoo. His brothers shrugged in puzzlement.

They decided to search for the cause of the silence. Red Cockatoo hunted in the estuary and mudflats. Yellow Cockatoo walked the long beach and looked in rock pools. Green Cockatoo ventured into the dense rainforest beneath the escarpment. Black Cockatoo climbed the sandstone cliffs high above their camp. The brothers promised to return to camp at dusk.

That evening Red, Yellow and Green Cockatoo met, built a fire and cooked the fish and fruits of their foraging. But Black Cockatoo did not appear. They agreed it was a long journey into the cliff country and he had most likely camped there overnight.

The silence in the world around them continued.

Next morning each brother again ventured out, vowing to return that night. Again they did not find a cause for the silence. Again Black Cockatoo did not return. The brothers cooee’d into the night but no reply came. Red Cockatoo wondered if a faint light high in the cliffs was a campfire but his brothers argued it was a low star on the horizon. They agreed to travel into the cliffs the next day to search for Black Cockatoo.

The Cockatoo people were skilled trackers and traveled quickly. They followed the trail left by Black Cockatoo high into the cliff country until they saw a faint plume of fire smoke from a distant ridge.

They knew they had found Black Cockatoo.

The brothers cooee’d and called his name. Black Cockatoo appeared on the ridge line and beckoned for the brothers to join him.

As they traversed the ridge they began to notice carvings on the flat rock shelf and strange ochre paintings and images beneath overhangs. They felt power in the art.

Black Cockatoo looked tired and hungry. Food was scarce in the dry sandstone country. He invited the brothers to his fire and spoke. “Here our ancestor’s spirits live. Carved onto the rock is the lore and dreaming of our tribe. We forgot our people’s stories and caused silence to come to our country.”

“I am glad you are with me” Black Cockatoo continued, “Together we can once again learn our culture. We can bring it anew to our tribe.”

So the brothers studied the rock formations and ancient art and gradually they learned afresh from their ancestors. Red Cockatoo learned of canoe making for the estuary. Yellow Cockatoo learned of tides and the construction of cunning fish traps. Green Cockatoo learned the healing properties of forest plants.

After some time Red, Yellow and Green Cockatoo returned to the tribe with this new knowledge. On their arrival, the silence ended and the song of country was once again heard by the Cockatoo people.

Black Cockatoo however stayed on the sandstone ridge. He learned to be a custodian of tribal lore. To this day you will sometimes see Black Cockatoo fly down from the high escarpment and hear him calling to his people, reminding them of kinship and reverence to country.

Inspired by a recent return to ‘Leadership and the New Science’ my thoughts circle around the idea of patterns in nature. Is it true nature comprises many deep and recurring patterns? Or is nature nothing more than randomness and chaos? If patterns exist, where do I see them and what can they teach me?

It didn’t take long for my swirling thoughts to arrive at the beautiful and terrible image of a vast hurricane seen from space. The pattern repeated in an obvious parallel with stars in a spiral galaxy. And on a much smaller scale, in a kitchen sink, I recall the image of water twisting down a plughole!

As I follow the patterns tangent, seasons and life cycles come to mind. Human development along the Hero’s Journey. The ebb and flow of tides and currents, like the rise and fall of cultures. Structures like trees with their branching crowns mirroring our brains branching complexity.

Patterns everywhere once noticed, suggesting an implicit ordering via great natural forces. Which leads me wonder what these insights can teach?

I imagine what lies beneath that vast magnificent hurricane, down on the ground at a human scale. There the experience is one of unimaginable raw power, of smallness and of destruction. There our vision is understandably narrow and survival the primary hope. Yet we know the storm will pass …

This takes my thoughts to everyday challenges and change in our lives. As we experience the hurt of disappointment or the high of a success, do we ever look outward and wonder what larger patterns have played a role? How often when we hunker down, sheltering from a personal cyclone, do we comprehend the larger patterns and forces of nature at play?

For while what lies within or in front of us may look like a disaster, from a different scale, perspective or time frame, we may suddenly appreciate a phenomena of beauty.

At their Monday art class my children were introduced to Andy Goldsworthy and his work. They were both inspired by his sculpting of natural bits and pieces mostly in their natural setting.

That evening my son Ben said to me “I want to make a sculpture”. So I offered that the next day after school we ride over to a nearby bay and see what we could find and make.

Which is what we did.

The absence of any autumnal trees and their fire-coloured leaves initially left us scratching around … until we found sticks!

On a lovely slab of natural sandstone we began to build a stick tower. Pentagonal based, about a foot in diameter and after maybe an hour we had a 2 foot tall structure with a platform roof of smaller sticks. And a leaf topped flagpole of course. What fun!

As we’d started building, a couple of sticks wouldn’t stay where Ben wanted them and I suggested we didn’t need to worry about that, rather allow them to find their own place in the structure. He was very happy to think like that and repeated it a few times to himself, like a quiet mantra.

At dusk and under a stunning sunset, we left our tower standing, imaging what people who wander by might think of it.

The mythic tale of Pandora’s Box often comes to mind through my Leadership Formation work.

In Greek mythology Pandora is the first woman. Created by Hephaestus and Athena, who in concert with other deities endowed her with many unique gifts. (Interestingly Pandora translates from Greek as ‘all-gifted’.)

Various traditional renditions tell how Pandora’s curiosity drew her into opening a forbidden box thus releasing all the evils contained within it out into the world – famine, disease, sickness, burdensome toil and myriad other pains. Realising her mistake she quickly closed the box. Only Hope remained trapped inside.

For me, this is not a completely satisfying story. I see parallels to the Biblical story of Eve, where the woman succumbs to temptation and brings evil to an innocent world. Reflecting on our modern world it’s difficult to argue for this theme. Far more trouble appears to be caused by the acts of men!

I want to consider this myth in a different way. As with Pandora, I believe we are each created with unique potentials and gifts. Unfortunately we often experience poor conditions for the development of these deep potentials, especially through childhood.

As Karen Horney writes, instead we each build an idealised image of who we should become. I can envisage this as a kind of mental ‘box’ we lock ourselves into; with rigid patterns of thinking and behaving; full of compulsions, conflicting drives and false solutions all attempting to grant safety in a hostile world.

To grow into our human potential requires each of us to look within the interior ‘box’ we have constructed. Like Pandora, the initial motivation may be curiosity. However many may come from a more painful place; unhappiness or even desperation.

To me the image of ‘opening the box and releasing evils’, refers to the psychological process of confronting our inner conflicts and fears.

Opening the box entails danger to the individual.

Once the box is opened and the ‘evils’ are released, they cannot be forced back into the box. Once these evils are brought into full view, they are in our consciousness for all time. We can either try to create yet another box to contain them i.e. another layer of neurosis; or we can face up to these evils and begin the struggle of growing into our real potential and happiness.

The Ancients were astute in identifying Hope as the saving grace. Hope being the desire and confidence to search for a future good which is difficult but not impossible to attain. Hope gives each of us the strength to persevere in the face of adversity.

Pandora was not the cause of the worlds ills.

I view Pandora as an archetypal seeker of inner truth, confronting her fears in order to realise her gifts and potential. Wise Pandora offers clear guidance for our own inner work.

“Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?” Paul Gauguin (1897)

In 1891, searching for a simpler, more elemental life, Paul Gauguin left his native France for the exotic paradise of Tahiti. There he painted this masterpiece, about which he wrote, “I believe that this canvas not only surpasses all my preceding ones, but that I shall never do anything better—or even like it.”

Throughout the ages artists and storytellers, philosophers and sages have tried to divine and express the deeper truths within the human experience, to answer the great questions posed so succinctly by Paul Gauguin. For many the answers are clear, yet to some the answers will never be settled and the restless, creative search for your own truth, your own purpose, remains a lifelong pursuit.

In our current commercial, material, informational, transactional and organisational Age these questions tend to be undervalued, overwhelmed and actively denied. Space for a reflective inner life only exists on the margins, a residual if we’re fortunate. Unsurprisingly though, they burst into sharp focus at points of existential crisis.

Working with leaders and teams I regularly encounter questions about purpose. Striving to make more profit, to serve a customer, to meet a deadline, or to earn a higher salary never reaches deeply enough within to generate true human satisfaction. It is difficult to connect corporate goals with intrinsic needs for human growth and healthy relationships, however when successful, a vitality and spirit infuses people and their work.

In the painting, the pair of yellow corners suggest (to me) remnants of a covering or wrapper which has been torn away to expose the complex life beneath. With a glance across the surface, his painting spans every stage of a human life from birth to death, from mundane to mystical. Taking more time, its dream like symbolism registers, I peer more deeply and am puzzled by what it all means.

Gauguin doesn’t directly answer the questions he poses. Instead, the foreign images and decorative style leave an aftertaste, an impenetrability, a faint unease. I sense that life, like his painting, won’t settle for tidy explanations.

Days later … it strikes me that deep answers can hardly sit on the thin, inanimate surface of a canvas painting, no matter how masterful. Re-reading his statement, I now suspect the answers to his questions are embedded in the making of his art, the effort and imagination required, the days and weeks he lived with and worked on the emerging mural, the fevered culmination of his life experience. Purpose then turns out to be more about creating, being, doing and relating than about meaning, things and end points.