Come Inside: what actually happened

A few weeks ago, I wrote about hosting my first “Come Inside: the Chief Explorer’s Library” session — an experiment in creating space for vulnerable, curious conversation around my book “Precious Jewels.” I promised to share how it went.

The short version? It was everything I hoped for and more, but not in the way I expected.

When Plans Meet Reality

I’d prepared multiple approaches — structured discussions, breakout rooms, formal presentations of the small experiments from the book. I wanted the hour to be of value to those who had spared the time to attend. But within minutes of starting, I could sense the group’s energy pulling toward something different. So I did what small experiments teach us to do: I abandoned the script and followed what was emerging.

What emerged was magic.

The Power of Shared Vulnerability

The breakthrough moment came when someone courageously shared their physical response to being in the group—heart racing, uncertainty, the vulnerability of being seen. Instead of glossing over this, we leaned into it. Others resonated immediately. Suddenly we were having the deepest conversation about the head-heart connection and what it takes to build trust in groups. The room shifted from polite curiosity to genuine intimacy.

Living the Principles

The session became a living demonstration of the “Precious Jewels” approach. We were literally conducting a small experiment while discussing small experiments. Connections emerged between the experimental mindset and creative thinking, between imagination and transformation.

What struck me most was how the group created what one participant called “a high concentration of humanity”—something both warm and disciplined, safe and purposeful. We’d stumbled into exactly the kind of space I’d hoped to create, but through surrender rather than structure.

What I Learned

Reflecting on the recording afterwards (with help from an AI dialogue partner I’ve been experimenting with, more on that experiment in a future post), I realised what had actually happened. I’d been worried that abandoning structure meant losing purpose. But the opposite was true—by letting go of the script when something more important was emerging, I’d found the deeper purpose that structure was meant to serve.

This is the paradox of small experiments: sometimes the most profound discoveries happen when we’re brave enough to let the experiment evolve beyond our original design.

The Vulnerability Hangover

I’ll be honest — afterwards, my inner critic had a field day. “Did we cover enough content? Was it too unstructured? Did my story land properly?” The session had culminated when I shared one of the techniques from the book — writing imaginary letters to people who’ve influenced us. I described a letter I’d written to my father, who died several years ago, talking about his work as a welder and how his welds endure to this day in massive power stations in the UK that power people’s homes —a metaphor for the lasting impact of craftsmanship and care, as well as an indication of how we are all connected.

The evidence tells a fascinating story: people made immediate connections. Vulnerability was welcomed and held safely. Deep themes emerged organically. Everyone expressed interest in continuing. The magic wasn’t despite the lack of structure — it was because of our willingness to follow what wanted to emerge.

What’s Next

This feels like the beginning of something significant. I’m planning the next session for the coming weeks — same trust-based invitation approach, but perhaps 90 minutes to allow for even deeper settling.

If this resonates with you — if you’re curious about small experiments, drawn to authentic conversation, or interested in exploring the intersection of creativity and vulnerability — I’d love to hear from you. The next session is forming, and there might be a place for you in this emerging community of explorers.

Because sometimes the best experiments happen when we’re brave enough to abandon the plan and follow what wants to emerge. And sometimes, in that following, we discover exactly what we were looking for all along.