Human beings have an extraordinary capacity to imagine. We have created myths to explain the unknown, religions that offer meaning and belonging, and nations built around shared histories and identities. And what is true of societies is also true of ourselves. We simply accept them as the way things are.

There is one sentence I hear in almost every workshop. “I'm not creative." What has always fascinated me is that it comes from people who have spent their lives raising families, building businesses and finding ways through challenges they had never faced before.

There is one sentence I hear in almost every workshop. “I'm not creative." What has always fascinated me is that it comes from people who have spent their lives raising families, building businesses and finding ways through challenges they had never faced before.

Before a brush touches the blank canvas, it has already begun its work. Throughout life: a new career shift, a difficult conversation, becoming a parent. Each one raises the question: How do you begin without knowing what the picture will become?

Creativity is not simply something you do. It is an orientation towards life and how we meet the unknown. It is part of who you are.

You can think a problem through and still miss what matters. Logic helps us focus. Creativity helps us notice what that focus leaves out. We need both, especially when familiar answers no longer serve us.

Creativity isn't reserved for artists nor unevenly distributed at birth. It's just a muscle we've stopped using. As life becomes more uncertain, it is becoming essential to reconnect with that power.

The word surrender makes many people uncomfortable. It suggests passivity, defeat or giving up. Yet creativity asks us to begin without knowing exactly where we'll arrive. Surrender invites us to trust that process.

Creativity belongs to everyone. Something happened between childhood and now. The question is not if you are creative, but what happened to your reltionship with it.

Creativity is not distributed unevenly at birth. It is our natural response to not knowing what comes next.

On every old map, where the known world ended, the mapmakers wrote the same words, ‘here be dragons’.

The real challenge of our time is not learning how to predict the future, but to learn how to navigate when certainty disappears. The map may run out, but the inner compass was always there.

By increasingly outsourcing our attention to technology, we are becoming less aware of our environment. We stop using our senses and begin to lose the capacity to see through complexities, discover patterns and experience the terrain as it unfolds.

Navigating complex situations with logic and analysis alone is rarely enough. Better thinking often depends on something more subtle. It depends on the balance of two ways of thinking.

The pressure to resolve ambiguity is deeply ingrained in professional life. Teams are rewarded for decisive action. But what is the cost of closing too soon?

When we find ourselves in uncertain terrain instinctively we look for a map, preferably one drawn by someone who seems to know the way. But every map is also a story. A story about how the world works.

We treat uncertainty as a temporary disruption, something to analyse and resolve. Increasingly it seems that uncertainty is not the interruption. It is the terrain.

Ask most people whether they are creative and the answer is immediate. Artists, writers and designers are creative. But me? Not really.

“The way forward is not to think harder, but to listen deeper” Uncertainty is nothing new, but it is the speed of change and volume of information that is like nothing we have seen before. It is easy to feel overwhelmed not knowing what to trust and how to respond. The Reflex to Resolve We tend to speak about uncertainty as though it is a problem to be solved, something temporary or inconvenient, a gap that should be closed as quickly as possible. From an early age we are t