I’m back in Jordan.
The sun is shining. The olive groves are lush. Road verges are scattered with spring flowers.
It’s Ramadan, and the camp has been decorated with streamers made from recycled materials. Last year we spoke often about waste, about cycles, about stewardship. This year the women told me they’ve been more conscious of sustainability and waste management in daily life.
Not because anyone instructed them to.
But because attention shifted.
The herbs we planted together are now being harvested for cooking.
The passion fruit vine is high enough to cast shade.
Design decisions made quietly, months ago, are now part of everyday life.
This is permaculture in practice.
Not just beds and borders —
but awareness.
Not just systems —
but relationships.
Not just productivity —
but care.
As we move deeper into social permaculture — into how we build resilient communities — I’m noticing how warmth shows up:
• in shared meals during Ramadan
• in reused materials turned into celebration
• in tending plants together
• in conversations that continue long after workshops end
Care is rarely loud.
It accumulates in small, repeated acts.
This week, I invite you to notice:
Where is care already present in your systems?
Where has your own attention quietly shifted over time?
Design is not only what we build.
It is what we begin to see differently.