The Wisdom Beneath Our Feet: Nothing Lives Alone

I was wondering… what might the forest teach us about how to know, relate, and grow, especially as we weather storms, through unconventional times?

Beneath the surface, trees and fungi form vast mycelial networks: living webs that allow forests to share water, nutrients, and even warnings of drought or disease. Stronger trees support the weaker. When storms come, the forest endures not because each tree stands alone, but because the roots are woven together.

Humans, too, face sudden storms.

In recent weeks, the earth has groaned and cracked - a powerful quake in Russia sent tremors reaching Japan and Hawaii. Raging wildfires sweep across Europe. Floods displace thousands in China and Pakistan. Even a volcano in Russia, dormant for 450 years, has stirred. Climate change is no longer something we distantly observe, it’s something we’re inside of. And it’s a reminder, again, and again, of the deep uncertainty we now live within.

And when the ground shifts beneath us, our bodies know before our minds do. Sleep shortens. Thoughts scatter. Tempers flare. We forget names, fumble words, flinch at shadows. We grow impatient, forgetful, defensive.

We’ve been taught to meet uncertainty with more control. To tighten our grip. To chase clarity. But what if the deeper wisdom lies not in knowing more - but in relating differently? Not in answering fast, but in staying with the questions. Not in standing alone, but in leaning together.

Because the truth is: our old ways of knowing, leading, and living no longer hold. And in their place, a deeper question emerges: how do we move intelligently and wisely through such uncertain times?

The forest shows us how life weathers change not in isolation, but in deeper connections. But many of our modern human systems aren’t built that way.

The pace of change is staggering. Artificial intelligence is reshaping the terrain of how we work and learn - faster than we can keep up. McKinsey estimates that up to 375 million workers, or 14% of the global workforce, may need to change occupations by 2030. The World Economic Forum predicts that more than 40% of core skills will become obsolete in the next four years.

But what’s unfolding isn’t just economic. Or climatic. It’s emotional. It’s social. It’s existential. The storms we face are not only outside us - they move through us too.

When the winds pick up, we brace. We harden. We retreat into the illusion of self-reliance - searching for answers we can hold. We grasp for certainty. We isolate. We scroll in search of something that will steady us.

But maybe what we need isn’t firmer ground, but stronger roots. Deeper connection with knowledge and wisdom. With each other. With the changing world itself.

Not just any connection - but one rooted in trust, curiosity, care and shared responsibility. What if we start imagining knowledge as the tree of life - with roots that stretch deep and wide…but one that stands alone, cut off from others.. When knowledge is isolated, the soil dries, its roots weaken and growth slows. But when its roots connect (when it lives among others) it nourishes and is nourished in return. The visible part of what we know is only a manifestation of what’s hidden, shared, and living below the surface. Knowledge, like any living thing, thrives in connection - in the unseen networks that hold it upright. And this truth isn’t just biological - it’s relational.It’s not just how forests thrive, but how humans can thrive too.When we treat knowledge as fixed and individual, we isolate our connection with life itself. But when we treat it as fluid and as a living system that nurtures and needs to be nurtured, it becomes a space for mutual growth. You know some. I know some. Together, we survive and grow. In this way, knowledge becomes less about proving and more about giving and taking. Less about having the right answers, and more about asking better questions - and answering together.

Like the mycelial web beneath the forest floor, the most resilient forms of knowledge flow - between people, across generations, through context. They adapt, respond, and regenerate. They are not stored in one mind, but sustained across many.

The forest reminds us of this truth. It doesn’t thrive by isolating, but by being in constant exchange. Not through separation, but through interdependence. Not through control, but through mutuality.

This is where Knowledge Mindfulness becomes essential.

It invites us to move beyond transactional knowing- where knowledge is treated as static, owned, or performed - and into relational knowing: alive, adaptive, and shared

So, how do we feel alive in a world that wears us down?

• Pause and notice where fear or stress is pulling you to hunker down, brace or close off.
• Choose one relationship (a colleague, partner, or friend) and ask: What’s the bandwidth of knowledge sharing here? Is it wide, open, alive? Is there a connection between how deeply you share and how alive you feel in that connection?
• Embrace not knowing fearlessly. Most of us were trained to sound confident, to state our views as if they were fact. But we were not taught to say “I don’t know”. We were not taught to be confused, or to stay with the discomfort of uncertainty. True learning begins when we allow our ideas to be challenged - when we admit that no one person or perspective holds all the answers. Curiosity becomes a bridge. Certainty, a wall. In unconventional times, resilience won’t come from predicting every twist ahead. It will come from the wisdom and knowledge held in the networks we nurture - between the young and the old, the living and the dead, across genders, generations, and geographies. From the roots we grow beneath the surface. From the care we extend. From the stories we carry forward.

When the winds of change blow hardest, a solitary tree may fall. But a forest - interconnected, alive - bends, sways, and stands.

So I wonder: We’ve been taught to meet uncertainty with more control. But what if we met it with more meaningful connections instead? What if resilience doesn’t come from having all the answers,but from the courage to keep questioning - together?

With care for “All”,

Dr Laila Marouf and KMD team