Curiosity, Chaos, and Quiet Reflection

Each year, the Nile team decamps to another part of the country for our annual Team Trip. In an age of hybrid work, it’s an opportunity for us to all gather in one place, reconnect with each other, reflect on the last 12 months and think about the year to come. To enable this reflection, members of the team run sessions to create the space for thought and discussion.

Team Trip 2024 was built around the theme of Curiosity. Since this summer, I’ve been supporting Neil, Ellie, and Susie in integrating LinkedIn Learning into our regular Academy Quarters sessions. Now, I had the task of leading a workshop titled Curiosity about Learning.

At first, I had big, creative ideas – Scots language challenges, a Cluedo-style hunt for hidden talents – but those required more preparation and time than my 1.5-hour slot allowed. To top it off, I was scheduled for the morning of the last day – a risky time, knowing our team’s fondness for late nights and G&Ts.

As I reflected on what learning with curiosity means to me, I realised how fascinated I am by the interconnectedness of everything. Small moments of synchronicity can open unexpected doors, and even the smallest discovery can spark an entirely new chapter. Reflecting on these moments helps me see how things unfold in hindsight. My career path, working style, and the clients and projects that have come my way all seem to have evolved organically, often beyond my control. It feels like the fates aligned, bringing the right people, conversations, and opportunities at just the right moments.

I’ve recently found I’m not good at writing a Personal Development Plan (PDP). It feels like trying to map out a journey without knowing the destination. But curiosity and reflection are tools that can help us at least start the journey, even if we don’t know exactly where we’re headed.

I struggle with thinking too far ahead, feel restricted by rigid long-term plans, and find it hard to pinpoint the “right” path. So, I worked with Neil to design a workshop that would not only help me but also my fellow Nilers. The goal was to give everyone something tangible to shape their PDPs and encourage them to explore what learning with curiosity looks like for them.

The rain-battered the M74 for the whole drive down. I felt quietly nervous about running a session for my peers for the first time, but focusing on the road helped me clear my head and get us safely to Dumfriesshire and Springkell House.

The first day was filled with fun, engaging sessions – and more than a few beers that evening. My session had been moved to after lunch on day two (thanks Susie!). That morning, I felt like a wee storm of chaos – most of us were somewhere on the hungover spectrum, and I was hormonal. Then, as I stood up too quickly, the table collapsed beneath me, spilling water and coffee over folk’s laptops. I was fragile and nervous, and retreating to bed felt like a very tempting option. But I pushed through, took a calming bath, and braced myself for the session.

Still feeling anxious, I sneaked into the ballroom while everyone else was at lunch to set up. I quickly realised some of my worksheets hadn’t printed properly. Sod’s Law, I thought. I sighed, taking it as a sign – less is more, right? Keep it simple, stupid.

I was ready for some quiet now, not public speaking. I cleared the tables, straightened the chairs, and laid out the A4s that had printed correctly, along with a pen at each place. As a (literal) sweet gesture, I sacrificed some of my personal stash and gave everyone three jellies.

Neil, my sponsor for the session, popped in to check on the setup. I reassured him there was nothing to prepare and told him I wanted to start with some mindfulness. He nodded, though I sensed a hint of hesitation. But I was committed – it suited my mood. I put on soft meditation music as the team began to gather.

I sat at the front of the room and said,

"Sit with your feet on the ground, hands in your lap, and imagine a string from the crown of your head gently lifting you.

Let your shoulders relax, your spine straighten, and if you fancy, close your eyes.

Take a deep breath in through your nose, hold for two, and as you exhale, bring your attention to the tip of your nose.

Feel the sensations there as you breathe in again, hold, and then exhale."

(Feel free to give it a go now, dear reader.)

The room murmured with soft, giggling laughs – a natural reaction to group breath-work, I’ve found. I smiled, feeling the collective calm wash over the room.

With the group settled, I explained that as a freelancer, I hadn’t often thought about personal development. Creating a PDP was new to me, so this session was an opportunity for all of us to get introspective and reflective, and perhaps finally set some goals for the next year.

The first task asked everyone to think about what being a curious learner meant for them. What had they been curious about in the last year? Who or what had inspired them to learn? Neil encouraged everyone to find a comfy spot elsewhere and suggested pairing up if they wanted to discuss their thoughts.

The second worksheet, though I’d planned it as an optional extra, resonated the most with my colleagues. I had created a simple Ikigai-style Venn diagram that combined what you love, what you’re good at, and what Nile needs. It sparked thoughts about where passion, mission, and expertise overlap, helping us see how we could align our work with what we love and what we excel at – both for ourselves and for our clients.

During the trip, the team introduced a new core model – making essential products and services effective for everyone. This purpose statement is something I can truly get behind. It also reassured me that my Venn diagram was achievable. While creating a PDP is important, finding true purpose in our work is something I, and I’m sure many of you, deeply care about. These sessions help tease out that enthusiasm, clarifying the work we want to pursue and, ultimately, helping solve our client’s problems.

Later that night, Sarah and I sat at dinner, talking about work and our past lives. She said something that stuck with me and sums up why I love being part of Nile: “Come as you are.”

I feel fully accepted here – free to be the weird wee lassie I am (and yes, only I can call myself that!). A session planned around me being hungover, craving a bath, Jelly Tots, and a bit of quiet time turned out to be exactly what my fellow Nilers needed too.

Looking back at the photos, seeing everyone engrossed in their worksheets, and getting good feedback from folks on the Nile Ikigai, I feel a quiet sense of pride. Maybe my mum was right – maybe I should’ve been a teacher. But what I’ve learned is that guiding others’ curiosity can be just as fulfilling.

Curious about learning? Try our Nile Ikigai — TT24.pdf