Thank you to Zlatina Tsvetkova, from Bulgaria and The Netherlands, for sharing their reflections on how circle practice contributed a transformative learning space.
Learning in Complexity and Collapse: What shapes transformative learning spaces for all humans?
Do you remember your most profound learning experience? What was the moment when you realised something so deeply important for your life that you couldn’t do things in the same way anymore?
Perhaps it was a moment of deep insight, a moment of pride or facing a challenge, perhaps it was a conversation you had or seeing a new perspective on the world.
Think about it, remember it as vividly as possible — what happened, what led up to that moment, what changed for you after it? What did you do to contribute to creating that moment, and what was prepared and arranged for you by someone else (a mentor, teacher, friend, relative, or another person facilitating the experience)?
Did you imagine it?
Write down the three most important characteristics of this moment that made it so relevant, special, and transformative. Write five if you like. If you do this with 5–10 people around you, you may just discover a much more nuanced answer than what follows in the next paragraphs, so just go and experiment with them on how to recreate those characteristics together.
Before we compare notes, my guess is that this moment did not happen for you in school or likely even university — and if it did, it was not part of the regular classes within that institution. Traditional education consistently fails to deliver this kind of experience, when they are crucial for building complex capacities that the world in collapse may require from us. We need to learn how to BE differently with ourselves, each other, and nature — and being sat on desks looking at a whiteboard or screen is not teaching us that. As changemakers, we have responsibilities to create such learning spaces for the whole systems we aim to influence. This piece is an invitation into a collective inquiry to see what works — for you, for your context, for your reality — but also in diversity and abstraction.
A Breakthrough
For me, that moment was in the first-ever Art of Hosting training I participated in, while also co-organising the event.
We sat together in a circle with 12 people, and our circle host Marjeta introduced the practice with a gentle quiet voice, hands in their lap, sitting cross-legged on a pillow on the floor, and an invitation to speak with intention, listen with attention, and sense the whole together. Their comfort with not knowing what each of us could possibly say, with silence and slowness, transformed my idea of what a facilitator could be.
Until that moment, I knew how to be a trainer — ask people to answer questions that I could predict their answers to 80% of the time and magically visualise that on the next slide. I was standing in front of them full of energy, knowledge, contagious enthusiasm, and confidence that I knew my stuff. I had a portfolio of cleverly designed experiences to ensure participants would leave with exactly the right insights and conclusions. I was doing rounds of check-ins, setting rules, the agenda, taking people through a fast-paced progression of questions — asking them to compare their energy levels to an animal or state one actionable idea they would try next.
The host gently settled in the circle, looked each of us in the eyes with a timeless presence, and smiled in a way that would make the Mona Lisa seem obnoxious. My hands started fidgeting, my ears started itching. I looked around to notice I wasn’t the only one.
Each of us was propped up on a pillow perfectly arranged around a centerpiece of flowers, stones, a piece of driftwood, a scarf, a little singing bowl, and a candle. We could all see each other across the circle, our eyes wondering around in a question mark: "What do we do now?" We chatted for a bit, shifting uncomfortably in our seats. Someone joked: "So are we just sitting here now? I thought we were here to learn about facilitation."
There was an exhale. It took a few moments for the host’s calmness to spill over the rest of us. Silence spread around the circle.
Once we had all landed and got more comfortable — not so much with the circle setup itself, which many of us had used before, but with the lack of guidance and direction, with the permission and awareness that being here, learning, and paying attention was our own choice — then the host spoke.
"The circle is amongst the most ancient human practices; people sat around the fires for thousands of years to share stories, solve problems, make decisions, and connect. We are not teaching about the circle practice; we are simply remembering it. It doesn’t belong to any community or institution. We cannot learn about the circle; we practice it together — we even practice it alone."
Then the host showed us a piece of driftwood found during a trip, named as the talking piece. A question was asked: "What does being in community feel like for me?" The driftwood was placed in the middle, with an invitation: "Whoever feels called to answer, pick it up, and when you are complete, hand it over to the person on your left."
Then the host sat back, leaned back, opened palms on the knees, and waited — and waited some more.
I was stunned. "Just like that? I can take that piece of wood and just talk as long as I want? And no one can interrupt me until I am done? And I can say whatever is on my mind? Hm, what does community feel like? When have I been in community?"
Then we started remembering. Someone picked up the piece, shared, we listened, we watched the piece travel around the circle and felt the anxiety of it approaching — "What am I going to talk about, everyone is listening, do I even have something to say?" Then we were reminded by someone’s story that our job was just to listen. We slowed down; some of us held the piece in silence, some of us shared profound personal stories, some of us cried, some leaned forward.
After about an hour, I left that circle transformed in a way I never imagined. Not because of the content of the conversation as much as the form. It was the first time I experienced a profound learning experience where the host spoke for less than five minutes throughout the training. Everyone else brought their wisdom, experience, and perspective — and I learned so much from that. But I learned the most from the host’s quiet presence, encouragement, simple structure, and invitation to just remember.
A Practice
I used to think that the only way to bring engaging, insightful learning experiences to people required being energetic, enthusiastic, well-prepared with cleverly designed games, simulations, and slides. Now I realised: it is possible to do very little and let people experience themselves, discover their own thoughts, be in dialogue with each other, and truly co-create the learning that is meaningful, relevant, and profound for them.
The three characteristics of this experience for me were:
I discovered a role model — our circle host embodied the new paradigm I was encountering and helped me settle after the surprise and discomfort of the initial experience. I couldn’t have imagined giving people so much freedom and trusting that they would come out of the experience with useful insights.
I experienced how a different process leads to a different outcome — no one had cried in any of my previous workshops, but no one had ever left deeply connected to their own and others’ humanity either. Participants had left with practical tips, but not with the kind of transformation I witnessed here.
I had an immediate opportunity to practice — the very next day, I hosted my first circle and invite people into a profound conversation . It showed me how much was actually being done by simply creating space. I realised I didn't have to replicate anyone’s circle hosting style, but I could weave her qualities with my own, in a way that is authentic and serves the group.
I had a community to support ongoing practice — even after the training, the participants stayed connected, meeting monthly to practice and deepen our understanding. Without this community, the profound experience might have just become a nice memory. The peers were as important teachers as the host — just like in circle practice itself.
In your transformative learning experiences, do you recognise these elements — or was it completely different for you?
What elements made it so powerful?
How might we bring those elements into the change work we do?
Zlatina Tsvetkova: I create nurturing learning spaces for regenerative leaders to embody systemic transformation towards a world where all beings live in harmony with themselves, nature and each other. My practice is grounded in transformative participatory processes, storytelling and embodiment coaching. These modalities support groups and individuals in connecting deeper with their intentions, values and aspirations and in co-creating systemic pathways that bring them closer to those. I design processes that encourage experimentation and support implementation of wise and lasting practices that lead to long-term transformation.