Notes

Projects, applied research, and professional context are held at pria.ca


About the Practice

These notes are a practice of attention.They are written from ordinary moments - public spaces, shared systems, quiet encounters - where something becomes visible when time is allowed to slow. The aim is not explanation or instruction, but careful observation: noticing what is present before it is interpreted, resolved or used.This practice treats observation as a civic and spiritual discipline. By naming what is often overlooked, it makes room for dignity, patience and clarity to re-enter everyday life. Nothing here asks for agreement, and nothing directs action. Each note is an offering of perception, left open for the reader to meet in their own way.If there is healing in this work, it arises indirectly - through restored attention, respect for complexity, and the quiet freedom that comes from seeing more clearly.These notes are written in public, but they are not performances. They are a record of learning how to look, and an space where pause becomes possible.


18 March 2026


Field Note 002 — Botanical Diagnosis (Malabar / Memory / Practice)


I remember that she did not begin with treatment. She began with knowledge.She spent time understanding—the plant, the person, the conditions. This was not delay, but a form of attention. Her learning did not come from isolated information, but from an ancestral wisdom: of the plant, the place it grew, and the traditions that held it.What struck me, even then, was that action did not come quickly. It came after a quiet process of knowing. And that knowing was not abstract—it was relational and experiential, built over time and carried forward through generations and practice.She did not turn this knowledge into a commodity. She passed it forward. What she modelled was not expertise as authority, but stewardship as responsibility.I am beginning to recognise this as a form of diagnosis.I also begin to see the absence of this kind of knowing in many contemporary systems of education and practice. Knowledge is often separated from the conditions that give rise to it.We learn categories, but not relationships. We handle materials, but do not know their origins. Even in something as ordinary as the ingredients in a dish, we may recognise taste or flavour, yet remain unfamiliar with the plant itself—where it grows, what its leaves look like, how it flowers, or the conditions it requires to thrive. More importantly, we remain distant from the lived body of knowledge that has understood how best to cultivate and use it.This distance does not only limit knowledge. It shapes how we respond.Without familiarity, diagnosis becomes abstract, and intervention risks becoming premature.Diagnosis, in this tradition, is a form of relational knowing—born of time, interaction, and observation.In housing practice, this means observing lived conditions over time, identifying patterns and gaps before attempting intervention.

Maple seed pods on a light surface

4 March 2026


Field Note 001 — Worker-Recovered Enterprises (Talk by Andrés Ruggeri)

Maple seed pods on a light surface

Atelier d’innovation sociale Mauril-Bélanger, Université Saint-Paul
Speaker: Andrés Ruggeri, Universidad de Buenos Aires
I attended a lunchtime talk on Argentine worker-recovered enterprises, framed around the themes “Occuper, résister, produire.” Although the lecture itself was delivered primarily in Spanish and I was unable to follow all of the details without translation headphones, the dynamics of the discussion and the student questions were revealing.What stood out most was a question raised by a student about the practical functioning of such collectives and whether the narratives surrounding them risk becoming somewhat detached from the lived realities of workers. Another question touched on the issue of who is speaking for whom in discussions about worker movements, raising the possibility that academic or activist frameworks can sometimes obscure the operational and economic challenges faced by those directly involved.Even without fully understanding the lecture content, this exchange highlighted an important tension in conversations about collective enterprises: the gap between ideological narratives of resistance and the practical realities of governance, production, and long-term sustainability.For my own work around cooperative housing, land stewardship, and collective governance models, this reinforced a central question: beyond moments of resistance or crisis, what institutional and governance conditions actually allow collective enterprises to function and endure over time?This observation forms part of an ongoing exploration of cooperative governance and institutional resilience.


31 January 2026


Learning Begins With Looking

Maple seed pods on a light surface

The most reliable way I’ve learned anything meaningful has not been by starting with explanation, but with observation.Before method, before theory, before reproduction, there is the quieter work of learning how to look, to really see
When I slow down long enough to notice form, context, shape, proportion, rhythm, resistance—something begins to teach me without words. Not as instruction, but as truth, and through presence.
Only after that comes experience: trying, testing, failing, inferring, adjusting, evaluating where understanding does not yet live in the body. Experience humbles what observation awakens.Reproduction, or response then, is not imitation. It is offering back what has been received—changed by contact, limited by honesty, shaped by care.I want to learn in the same posture in which I teach: attentive, unfinished, receptive to correction.When learning follows this order—observation, experience, offering—it remains nourishing. It does not extract. It does not rush. It carries life forward like a seed, not a claim.What grows is not mastery, but fidelity: to what has been seen, lived, and entrusted.


28 January 2026


Does Leadership Redistribute Care — or Extract from It?

Maple seed pods on a light surface

Lately, I’ve been noticing how often leadership is framed as visibility:
the right words, the right platform, the right posture in the room.
Yet the most consequential decisions I’ve witnessed rarely announce themselves.They show up as follow-through, quiet support, restraint, and a willingness to carry responsibility in places that actually matter—often without fanfare, without a megaphone, and without credit.Extraction, by contrast, looks efficient. It gathers energy, labour, approval, and attention, directing them upward while calling the result “impact.” The costs of this work—often invisible—are reframed as charitable effort or voluntary contribution, even when they sustain entire systems.Redistribution looks slower.
It asks different questions first:
Who is holding the cost?
Who is absorbing the risk?
Who is quietly maintaining what others benefit from?
The difference is not intention, but posture*.One takes from care to fuel authority.
The other uses authority to extend care outward. I’m learning to assess leadership not by how much it commands, but by how carefully it redistributes what it has been given. Because in the end, a platform exists for greater reach of care—not to elevate the one who occupies it.


*Notes from the Margins — observing leadership, care, and accountability as lived practice. - Espace Créatif


January 21, 2026


Maple seed pods on a light surface

A small thing, moving quietly, shaped by air and time rather than force.