A reflection on complexity, change, and how we meet the unknown
Because sometimes life feels like it’s not following the script.
The plan doesn’t work. Things shift. Something ends. Something new wants to begin, but it’s unclear what it is.
This is often where people talk about emergence. It’s a word that comes up in systems thinking, psychology, and conversations about personal growth. It describes how something new can appear without being planned, predicted, or controlled. It shows up when parts of a system interact in ways that create something unexpected.
That might sound abstract, but it happens all the time—in nature, in society, and in ourselves.
In complexity theory, emergence refers to new patterns or behaviours that arise from the interaction of many different parts. No one part is responsible. It can’t be traced to a single cause. It happens because of the relationships between things.
A flock of birds moving together is an emergent pattern. So is a social movement, or the way new ideas take hold.
Carl Jung didn’t use this language, but he spent years engaging with something similar in himself. In his Red Book, he describes how he followed the images, voices, and symbols that appeared in his inner world, without trying to control them. Over time, something meaningful began to take shape.
He called this process individuation—the slow, sometimes chaotic unfolding of who we are.
Is it possible that emergence is part of how we grow, personally and collectively?
Some people use a simple model called the Two Loops to describe systemic change.
In the first loop, an existing system grows, peaks, and starts to decline.
At the same time, underneath or alongside it, a new system quietly starts to form.
It begins small, unnoticed, fragile.
As the old system fades, the new one grows strong enough to rise.
There’s a crossover point where the old is no longer working and the new is still uncertain. That’s the space of emergence.
You can see this in societies, organisations, even ecosystems.
This isn’t just something that happens in the world around us. It happens inside us as well.
Each of us is a complex system. Our thoughts, values, habits, beliefs, relationships, memories; they all interact. We are always shifting and changing, even when it feels like we’re stuck.
When something in us has reached its peak, maybe an identity, a belief, a way of seeing the world, it can start to fall away.
And often, something new is quietly forming underneath.
The new part isn’t fully visible yet. The old part hasn’t quite let go.
That’s personal emergence.
You might notice:
These are signs that something is shifting beneath the surface.
If emergence can’t be controlled or forced, how do we work with it?
Some people suggest it’s about how we show up. Not about doing more, but about being open to what’s forming.
Some qualities that seem helpful:
It might sound simple, but it’s not always easy. It can feel unsettling to let go of knowing, to loosen control, to sit in uncertainty.
Often, we resist emergence without realising it.
We might try to hold on to the old way because it feels safe.
We might rush to create certainty.
We might look for clear answers too soon.
In complexity theory, there’s an idea about not intervening too early. Letting patterns form before trying to fix or shape them.
In personal growth, the same applies. If we move too quickly to decide what’s happening, we might miss what’s actually trying to emerge.
Fear often shows up right at the edge of something new.
It might not feel like fear. It could look like distraction, overthinking, needing a plan, or avoiding the unknown. It’s human to want certainty and safety.
The question isn’t how to get rid of fear, but how to meet it without letting it control us.
Some ways to work with fear:
More:
Berkana Two Loops model for systemic change
A Leader’s Framework for Decision Making (Complexity theory)