Lessons in Creativity E-Book

Ben Rennie

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 367

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

How do our everyday choices infuse our lives with purpose? What happens to the things we create, and how do they impact others? How does innovation influence our lives, our communities and the spaces we share?

Lessons in Creativity is a powerful exploration of what it means to be creative, offering readers a blend of personal stories, unexpected insights and inspirational takeaways. Australian designer Ben Rennie takes readers on a journey from working with world-leading brands, including Chanel, Luxottica and Gore-Tex, to the everyday moments that shape the imagination. In this book, you'll follow Ben as he explores the tangible, personal power of creative confidence.

We often underestimate the potential of our own creativity, believing it belongs to artists, writers or performers. But creativity is inherently human — it's about showing up with generosity and curiosity. Whether you're an accountant, a politician, a full-time parent or an engineer, creativity brings exciting thinking and purpose to life.

As the foundation of our work, relationships and lives, creativity brings meaning and fulfilment to everything we do. Lessons in Creativity reaffirms our role as the architect of our destiny, with the ability to form new habits, craft fresh stories and unlock unseen horizons. It reveals a philosophy for aligning your daily actions with your deepest aspirations and values, using your creative confidence as the engine for transformation.

The creative journey is a winding road marked by persistence and self-awareness. Creativity is not something we have or we don't; we learn and develop it through practice. In adopting this mindset, we open ourselves to a world of possibility, where each decision brings us closer to realising a potential. In this sense, creative problem-solving is not a gift but a skill.

If you're feeling stuck or disconnected, Lessons in Creativity will inspire you to show up, take that first step and re-engage your creative potential.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

COVER

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

FOREWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION: ESCAPE

PART I: ORIGINS: FROM EMPATHY TO AWARENESS

CHAPTER 1: SUPER UNKNOWN

CHAPTER 2: CRICKET FOR DUMMIES

CHAPTER 3: BLOWING IN THE WIND

PART II: JUNCTIONS: PURPOSE

CHAPTER 4: NORTH BY SOUTHWEST (AIRLINES)

CHAPTER 5: GOLD

CHAPTER 6: SLIM YOUR WALLET

PART III: CONNECTIONS: EXPLORATION

CHAPTER 7: DAYLIGHT ROBBERY (BY A LITTLE OLD LADY)!

CHAPTER 8: WATERPROOFED

CHAPTER 9: INDOOR WHAT?

PART IV: REFLECTIONS: MEANING

CHAPTER 10: THE $40 000 QUESTION!

CHAPTER 11: A REAL-LIFE SUPER SUIT

CHAPTER 12: DESIGN MATTERS

PART V: DIRECTIONS: RESILIENCE

CHAPTER 13: WHERE TO PARK ON YOUR WAY TO THE FUTURE!

CHAPTER 14: STANDARD STANDARDS ARE STANDARD!

CHAPTER 15: THE ADJACENT POSSIBLE

PART VI: HORIZONS: GROWTH

CHAPTER 16: TIME AFTER TIME

CHAPTER 17: WHY SO SIRIUS?!

CHAPTER 18: EATEN BY A WHALE

CONCLUSION: MY ENDING IS YOUR BEGINNING

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

END USER LICENSE AGREEMENT

Guide

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Foreword

About the Author

Preface

Introduction: Escape

Table of Contents

Begin Reading

Conclusion: My Ending is your Beginning

Acknowledgements

End User License Agreement

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First published 2025 by John Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd

© Benjamin Rennie 2025

All rights reserved, including rights for text and data mining and training of artificial intelligence technologies or similar technologies. Except as permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 (for example, a fair dealing for the purposes of study, research, criticism or review) no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise. Advice on how to obtain permission to reuse material from this title is available at http://www.wiley.com/go/permissions.

The right of Ben Rennie to be identified as the author of Lessons in Creativity has been asserted in accordance with law.

ISBN: 978-1-394-33113-0

Registered OfficeJohn Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd. Level 4, 600 Bourke Street, Melbourne, VIC 3000, Australia

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Limit of Liability/Disclaimer of WarrantyWhile the publisher and author have used their best efforts in preparing this work, they make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this work and specifically disclaim all warranties, including without limitation any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. No warranty may be created or extended by sales representatives, written sales materials or promotional statements for this work. This work is sold with the understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering professional services. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be suitable for your situation. You should consult with a specialist where appropriate. The fact that an organisation, website, or product is referred to in this work as a citation and/or potential source of further information does not mean that the publisher and author endorse the information or services the organisation, website, or product may provide or recommendations it may make. Further, readers should be aware that websites listed in this work may have changed or disappeared between when this work was written and when it is read. Neither the publisher nor author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damages, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, or other damages.

Cover Design by WileyCover Concept and Background: Ben Rennie and Glenn ChandlerCover Images: © Paper Trident/Getty Images; © hudiemm/Getty ImagesCover Photo: Ben Baker

For my mum.

FOREWORD

Let's talk about Ben for a moment. What does Ben actually do? That question has been thrown around in a few of our circles over the years, and it tells you a lot about him. The question doesn't indicate a nebulous approach to his work life, but instead reflects his creative approach to life in general.

Ben is eternally curious. Since I've known him, he's also been questioning how we approach work and life — and, more importantly, what brings us joy. Ben loves life and isn't afraid of change. He embraces it and charges at it full speed — he's not one for the comfort zone.

He's a contrarian in the best and most positive ways, undeniably charming, and authentically self-deprecating in the best possible way. He's full of contradictions and can sometimes seem like a hapless labrador, bouncing off walls, but he's also got a razor-sharp mind.

Well before I met him, he had long golden locks of hair and was one of the most promising cricketers in the country. In a sport-loving nation, this should have been the pinnacle for any young bloke — but not for Ben.

Despite his enviable skills (Mark Waugh once claimed he was the most naturally talented cricketer he'd ever seen), he gave it up to pursue unknown adventures. He knew there was more for him than standing in a field chasing a ball. The world was pulling him in a different direction.

That direction has had many twists and turns, which you'll read about in this exceptional book by a bloke who, in many ways, has been waiting for the future to catch up with where his head's at.

Ben inspires me, sometimes confuses me, but always makes me think about doing things differently. Creative people love to challenge the status quo and forge their own path.

I've learned a great deal from Ben over the years. I have marvelled at and been inspired by his relationship with his children and Nicola and their lives together — he always speaks of family first.

He's a bloke who was never meant to be stuck in the nets — his mind and spirit needed more than that.

So, what does he do? He's just Ben, full-time, and he's very good at his job.

Tim Ross

Comedian, Writer and TV Presenter

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

In 2016, Ben Rennie took the ultimate leap of faith: he resigned from his company to start again, and build the company he had always wanted. Ben's business journey has been marked by failures, breakthroughs and the pursuit of ideas that matter. Today, Ben is the co-founder and managing partner of Reny®, a Certified B Corporation dedicated to climate design, clean creative and systemic innovation. At the heart of his work lies Orbital Design, a philosophy that reimagines the role of design by giving Mother Nature a seat at the table, balancing human needs with the systems we inhabit.

While challenges and triumphs have marked Ben's professional journey, his most meaningful creative endeavour has been raising his three children. To him, parenting is a deeply creative act — instilling in his kids the courage to embrace their creative confidence, take risks and trust in their ideas and abilities is nothing short of transformative.

Ben champions the power of creative confidence, applying it to some of the world's most iconic brands — including Patagonia, Nike, John Holland, Westpac and Canon. Whether collaborating with these industry leaders or speaking on global stages such as TEDx and Vivid Sydney, his mission is unwavering: to inspire and empower people to tackle the world's most pressing challenges through creativity and meaningful connection.

His journey has taken him from the beaches of Stanwell Park in Australia, where he lives with his family, to the deserts of Utah and the vibrant landscapes of Salt Lake City, where he has lived on and off for the past five years. These contrasting environments have profoundly shaped his perspective and the understanding that creativity flourishes when we protect nature, embrace failure, adapt our ideas, nurture relationships and cultivate our creative confidence.

Lessons in Creativity is the culmination of Ben's work and reflections — a guide to reigniting the power of imagination and using it to craft a more sustainable and inspired future, driven by the limitless potential of creative confidence.

PREFACE

Creativity is one of the most powerful forces we possess. It shapes how we understand the world, solve problems and build the future. It's what we use to overcome challenges, shape our lives, spark innovation and improve things. But somewhere along the way, many of us lose touch with it. According to Adobe's 2012 ‘State of Create’ global study, as kids, 96 per cent of us believe we're creative — everything feels possible. By adulthood, that number plummets to just 26 per cent. I call this the creativity gap, and it's not just a statistic — it's an emergency. Because creativity isn't exclusive to artists or designers; it's for everyone.

And that's precisely why I wrote this book.

For years, I worked within the human-centred design (HCD) framework — a process that puts people at the heart of problem-solving. And this framework did me and my colleagues a lot of good. It taught us to listen, empathise and create with the user in mind. But, as time went on, HCD started to feel incomplete. Yes, we were solving problems for people, but we weren't seeing the whole picture. We weren't thinking about the systems we were impacting — including the climate, the environment, communities, the future and our neighbours. I realised we were designing solutions that offered immediate convenience for humans but created long-term inconveniences for humanity — similar to the issues connected with single-use plastics. These solutions provide a quick fix for today but leave irreparable consequences for the planet.

Everything around us was once an idea. Every object, every solution we interact with, was designed by someone, probably starting with a pencil and some paper. And here is what 19 years as a designer has taught me: every endpoint, where the last person left off, is a new beginning. We don't need to reinvent the world from scratch; we just need to pick up where the past left off. This is the beauty of creativity — reimagining, redesigning and recreating. Ideas evolve continuously, and each new perspective pushes us forward; each endpoint, a new beginning. Embracing this is known as having creative confidence. An idea championed by Tim Brown of IDEO, this is the ability to believe in our innate (always been inside of us) ability to dive in and solve problems.

After years in the design and creative industries, I realised that design and HCD needed rethinking. So, I created systemic design foundations (SDF). SDF, also named, orbital design, takes a more holistic approach — it's about considering the human need and the ripple effects of every design decision. It's a way to understand the systems we operate in and design with people and the planet in mind. Creativity isn't just about making things better for us today — it's about leaving things better for those who come after us.

Orbital design is my life's work — a way to challenge the traditional models of design and broaden the scope of how we view creativity. Through my work with brands such as Patagonia, Surfrider Foundation, B Corp, 1% for the Planet, Tourism Australia, Chanel, Oakley and the Indigenous Marathon Foundation, I've seen firsthand the impact this approach can have. It's about intention, foresight and the understanding that what we create today will send ripples into the future. This is also relevant to our personal lives, influencing how we live and the choices we make.

This book is a reflection of my journey. It's predominately a collection of stories — highlighting moments in my life and career when creativity sparked something bigger. These stories, and the lessons I learned from them and the people I met, show that creativity isn't reserved for ‘geniuses’ or ‘visionaries’. It's for all of us — anyone willing to see things differently and leap with creative confidence to start something new.

The tales I include through this book are usually reserved for late nights with old friends, swapping war stories over good wine. But I share them here — the wins, the losses, the failures, the lies and the truths — in the hope that they inspire you to rethink, reframe and even reset. I also reveal lessons learned from the world's best brands, sharing the wisdom usually locked away in boardrooms.

This book is divided into six parts, each representing a stage in the creative process reimagined through the lens of my life and how I approach it, based on what I have learned about creativity. This book is designed to awaken your creative confidence to reframe how your thinking and presence are directly responsible for reshaping the world. When seen through the lenses of awareness, purpose, resilience and mastery, creativity becomes the key to tackling today's most pressing challenges — from climate change to social justice to redefining what it means to live well (or start over again, if that is what you crave).

As you read this book, I hope you see yourself in these stories. I hope you rediscover the creativity you may have set aside or forgotten. Most importantly, I want you to realise that creativity isn't something you either have or don't have — it's a way of thinking, a way of approaching the world with curiosity and a belief that things can always be better.

This isn't just a book about creativity — it's about creative confidence. And that's something we all have within us. The fact that you're holding this book means you're already on that path.

Let's get started.

INTRODUCTION: ESCAPE

As author and international advisor on education in the arts Sir Ken Robinson once pointed out, ‘The problem isn't that we aim too high and fail — it's just the opposite — we aim too low and succeed’. This truth lies at the heart of the creativity gap between the kids who think they're creative, and those who think the same thing as adults. Too often, we stop stretching our imaginations, settling for what's easily within reach instead of pushing the boundaries of possibility. But creativity demands more. Sometimes, it asks us to be brave; other times, it requires patience. Yet, at its core, creativity, much like when we were children, encourages us to dream. It pushes us to take risks, to imagine more and to believe in what might be.

I'm obsessed with creative confidence — that belief in our innate creativity. It took me decades to find mine. Without it, this book wouldn't exist. But it wasn't an easy journey. Only after countless failures did I realise, despite those missteps, I was still okay. I was still intact. Creative confidence is about believing in your ability to make a difference in the world — or the world around you — and understanding your place. It's not about coming up with one genius idea that solves everything; it's about trying — and failing — through hundreds of attempts until you arrive at the place you always envisioned (or the product you dreamed of creating). It requires us to dream bigger, take risks and challenge ourselves to aim higher — not just for our benefit, but also for our impact on the world and the people we share it with. For me, that's my wife, Nicola, and our three kids: Miff, 21; Kai, 18 and Pip, 15. You will meet them all a little later.

Crucible moments are those pivotal points in life that, on reflection, set us on a new path toward becoming who we've always aspired to be. To set the tone for the chapters of this book, I want to start with my crucible moment — a moment that changed everything. You might see it as a failure or perhaps as a day of enlightenment. Maybe this kind of moment is typical for you. But, for me, it was the day that shifted everything — and redefined the rest of my life.

Crucible moments are those pivotal points in life that, on reflection, set us on a new path toward becoming who we've always aspired to be.

It was late November 2016; I was in McLaren Vale, a wine region just south of Adelaide, working with one of Australia's largest banks and on the verge of wrapping up another successful project. That morning, however, the vineyards, usually a symbol of growth and prosperity, seemed shrouded in an ethereal mist, reflecting the uncertainty clouding my mind. This meeting felt different, weighted with the culmination of years of dedication and relentless effort coming to a breaking point. The crisp morning air did little to ease the knot in my stomach. All I could think about was the growing dissonance between my current reality and the vision I had once created.

I had a habit of arriving 30 minutes early to meetings, a routine that allowed me to let the nerves settle and plan my approach. Maybe the feeling gnawing at me was simply the pressure after six months of relentless work on this project with one of Australia's largest banks. Maybe not. I parked the car and took a moment to breathe the morning air. The boardroom was in a small, rustic building nestled among the vineyards. The contrast between the natural beauty outside and the corporate atmosphere inside was stark. The crunching sound underfoot was oddly comforting as I walked up the gravel path. I paused at the door, looking back at the misty vineyards one last time before stepping inside.

For the seven years leading up to that morning in McLaren Vale, I had been on a deeply personal journey building my company, 6.2, an innovation lab. The name 6.2 is not just a random combination of numbers; it reflects my birthday, 6 February. As a creative person, naming things, oddly, has always been a challenge for me, but 6.2 felt right; it was personal and represented a part of me. I co-founded 6.2 with Paul Breen (aka ‘The Bull’), a Melbourne entrepreneur famous for his balanced ethics, passion for business, loyalty and ferocious (but fair) approach. We created an innovation consultancy designed to push boundaries and solve complex problems.

The early days were a struggle, filled with uncertainty and unrelenting effort. Paul and I operated from different cities — Paul in Melbourne and myself in Sydney. We faced a steep learning curve, spending countless hours pitching our vision to anyone who would listen. Rejection became a familiar companion, but each ‘no’ only fuelled our determination.

Slowly, our persistence began to pay off, and word began to spread about our work. We hustled, networked and showcased our work at every opportunity. Each project was a stepping stone, and we took immense pride in the relationships we built and the solutions we delivered.

As our reputation took root, we found ourselves in the boardrooms of Australia's most prominent companies: Australia Post, Westpac, Gulf Oil, the City of Sydney, Tourism Australia and global icons such as Nike and Adidas. We were slowly acquiring market share from the world's best consultancies, such as McKinsey, IDEO, PwC and Capgemini. Each success was a testament to the hard work and sleepless nights we had invested. Many early mornings, late insights and months without a salary gave way to opportunity and scale. Each project allowed us to prove ourselves and bring fresh perspectives and innovative solutions. We weren't just solving problems; we were reimagining possibilities — and developing insights that now fill the pages of this book.

Building 6.2 was about more than big clients and high-profile projects, however. We wanted to push the boundaries and show it was possible to solve complex problems with creativity and innovation. Our mission was clear: make unremarkable businesses remarkable and fight for the small businesses. The journey was extraordinary, filled with extreme highs and extreme lows.

And for a while, it felt like we were succeeding. Our approach to problem-solving was unique, and our ability to deliver results earned us a solid reputation. We believed in what we were building.

By 2012, I was receiving all kinds of invitations to speak to magazines, TV and events on 6.2 and my role as an innovation leader. I was invited to give a TEDx talk to address the federal government on design thinking at Parliament House, where I had the unique opportunity to present to the prime minister. I spoke at Vivid Sydney, Creative Sydney, City of Melbourne, Denmark House, in Fiji, Hamilton Island, the Gold Coast and Perth, and at trade shows in the United States. I was busy — all affirmations of our hard work and vision. I commanded fees of up to five figures for speaking engagements, sharing our journey and insights with audiences hungry for inspiration and innovation.

The years between 2009 and 2013 were a blur of relentless drive and crucible moments. I am immensely proud of the work and the stories from that era. These experiences have shaped the course of my professional life.

However, as we grew, a dissonance began to creep in; I could sense an unsettling undercurrent. What had started as a purpose-driven venture became a source of internal conflict. I was spending more and more time away from my family, living out of a suitcase and constantly on the road. Each trip took me further from the life I had pictured and the people I created it for.

The business took a lot of work to scale, and I struggled to extricate myself from the daily grind. Despite our success, I felt trapped in relentless work and perpetual motion. 6.2's original mission was noble. Yet, the more we grew, the further I felt we strayed from it. Our clients were now the very corporate giants I had left behind in search of the businesses that needed us. Now, we had no time for them. We had become advisors to the elite.

A growing disillusionment overshadowed the excitement of securing big contracts. I found myself questioning the impact of our work. Were we making a difference or simply another cog in the machine? A gnawing sense of unease replaced the drive and dedication that had fuelled 6.2's early days.

I remember sitting in countless boardrooms and feeling a profound disconnect between the corporate environment and my values. The hustle and grind, once exhilarating, now felt suffocating. The irony was stark: in our quest to innovate and disrupt, we had become enmeshed in the system we had set out to transform.

INSIGHTS

Any service in any industry will naturally attract a specific clientele, with specific expectations and behavioural traits. As entrepreneur and bestselling author Seth Godin states, ‘Choose your customers, choose your future’. When you understand this, you're not just meeting but also strategically engaging with the inherent features — or challenges — that come with your chosen sector. We had picked our customers, and this had set us on the wrong path.

We all have a place that grounds us and makes us feel at ease. Everything seems to settle down, and we can think clearly and patiently. For me, that place has always been in nature; the ocean or mountains are my safe places.

As I held the door to the boardroom that morning, I glanced back at the vineyards in McLaren Vale and I was transported back to a time when life felt more connected and grounded. The mist that clung to the vines took me back to the crisp, cold air of the Australian Alps when my wife, Nicola, and I were volunteer ski patrollers at Mt Selwyn between 2006 and 2012.

The mornings on the mountain were nothing short of magical. We would wake before dawn, arrive at the resort at 6 am, bundle up against the chill and prepare the mountain for a new day. I would head out on the Ski-doo snowmobile, the engine's hum breaking the morning silence as I checked the lifts, roped off the resort boundaries and marked hazards. The world was still asleep, and the mountain was ours alone.

As I reached the resort's edge, I would cut the motor on the Ski-doo and stand there in silence, my breath hanging in the cold air. There's something profoundly peaceful about being in nature, on the top of a mountain, with nothing but the sound of the wind and the snow crunching underfoot. The vast expanse of white, the clear blue sky and the untouched snow created a feeling of serenity and purpose. It was a stark contrast to the boardrooms and business meetings that now filled my days, a world away from the corporate grind and the constant hustle.

Those moments on the mountain were grounding. They reminded me of the simplicity of hard work and the deep connection to nature and purpose. In nature, I felt a profound sense of fulfilment, an increasingly elusive clarity in my current life. The mornings spent at Mt Selwyn were a reminder of what truly mattered: the quiet moments, the connection to the natural world and the sense of doing something meaningful and tangible.

Now, surrounded by the rolling vineyards of McLaren Vale, I longed for that simplicity and peace. I opened the door to the boardroom and walked inside. The weight of the impending meeting pressed down on me, a stark reminder of how far I had strayed from that path. The contrast was overwhelming; the vineyard's beauty and tranquillity were worlds apart from the sterile, high-pressure environment I was about to enter.

As the meeting began, a wave of anxiety washed over me. A knot tightened in my stomach as I felt almost angry at myself for leading us here. The room was filled with some of Australia's leading bank executives, and the energy was thick with anticipation.

As the discussion continued, I could feel my mind drifting. I excused myself and headed to the bathroom, hoping to collect my thoughts. I recalled a comment from comedian Jerry Seinfeld that when things weren't going well on set, he would splash his face with water to change his mood. Desperate for a reset, I tried it. The cold water hit my face, but nothing changed. The anxiety clung to me, unshakable.

I splashed my face again and again, but still — nothing. All I wanted was to be somewhere else, anywhere but there! The question kept echoing: if not here, then where? I felt trapped, suffocated by the environment I had worked so hard to create. The irony was bitter. Again, if not here, then where?

I paced the bathroom, staring into the mirror, trying to convince myself everything was okay. But deep down, I knew it wasn't. I had built a business reflecting everything I had sought to escape from in corporate Australia.

I took a deep breath, unbuttoned the top button on my shirt and walked back into the boardroom. I thanked everyone for their time and wished them success with the project. Then I left.

But I didn't just leave the room; I left the life I had created.

I drove straight to the airport, my mind racing with one thought: start again!

The next day, I resigned from my own company.

Within eight days, my family and I were on a flight to San Francisco. As the plane touched down in the United States, one thing was clear: I was on a path — maybe not even the right one, but it was a new one. Over the coming four years, this path lead me back to nature, to the mountains, the oceans and, most importantly, my family and the person I always wanted to be.

PART IORIGINS: FROM EMPATHY TO AWARENESS

Where creativity begins, with a new awareness of the world's complexities and the spark of possibilities

Creativity begins with awareness. I've learned that seeing the world differently is the first step to building creative confidence. It's about being open to what's happening around you — the challenges, the opportunities and the connections. The more aware you are, the clearer it becomes that creativity isn't just a skill — it's a way of seeing and responding to the world. It's a tool for making sense of complexity and a spark for meaningful change.

CHAPTER 1SUPER UNKNOWN

Realising creativity lives in the unknown

The unrelenting sun showed no mercy as it descended. I stood there, trapped in a swirl of exhaustion and anxiety, frozen in place. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead — a testament to my nerves and the relentless heat. Breathe, I reminded myself, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I hadn't fully prepared for this moment but, somehow, I had convinced myself I was ready.

My heart raced as I closed my eyes, searching for strength. ‘Visualise, be strong’, I whispered. Time felt elastic, stretching unbearably, but the buzz of the surrounding crowd snapped me back to reality. It was my turn, yet my feet were glued to the ground. I stood frozen.

In December 2006, I was 31, working for a great company with a great job. On paper, everything looked right. Yet, I found myself creatively stifled by the monotony of routine. The joy of fatherhood with my three-year-old daughter, Mia (Miff), was undeniable, and the prospect of another child, Kai, filled me with excitement. But in my work, I was stuck. I knew I needed something to shake me free from the rut. This was my way of breaking out — a leap into the unknown.

Growing up, Mum constantly reminded me that fear and opportunity go hand in hand. I recall her saying the only real way to know if we can fly is to leap (if anything, you will get good at landing)! My parents, always optimistic and encouraging, pushed me to find the courage to take leaps. So, with newfound resolve, I took a deep breath, leaned forward and took the leap.

Then — nothing. Darkness. Pure silence and darkness. Slowly, that darkness flirted with the edges of my vision before reluctantly retreating. I heard laughter and grumbles. Pain surged through my body. I reached for my side and opened my eyes to see two young schoolgirls standing over me, their eyes wide with a mixture of astonishment and concern, giggling.

‘Are you okay, mister? That was insane!’ exclaimed the older one.

I did a quick self-check — nothing seemed to be broken. I looked up at the younger girl, who seemed worried and amused, and managed an awkward smile. ‘What were you doing up there, mister? That was crazy!’

I was asking myself the same thing: What was I doing up there?

At 31, with no recent experience, I had dropped into a 10-foot skate ramp at Monster Skate Park in Sydney. That darkness was caused by me, knocked out at the bottom of a skate ramp. At the time, my choice made sense; looking back, it seems nonsensical. But it happened.

I waved off an older man's offer to help, determined to regain my composure. ‘Young man, I'm not sure if that was your first or last time, but it looked like you were diving into a swimming pool rather than a skate ramp’, he remarked.

I now know what drove me up that ramp: a deep yearning for a reset. Rest assured, I found a better way. And that better way is encapsulated in a single word: creativity. Creativity is the answer to most of our problems.

Designer and architect Charles Eames said, ‘It is not easy to do something good, but it is extremely difficult to do something bad’. This reminds us that true creativity isn't easy — it requires both courage and persistence to create something meaningful. However, creative confidence is built when you take action, even when the path is unclear. Confidence comes from developing the resilience to keep moving forward, trusting that you'll eventually find your way through experimentation, failure and discovery.

True creativity isn't easy — it requires both courage and persistence to create something meaningful.

The hardest part of any creative journey isn't just stepping into the unknown — it's believing in your ability to navigate that uncertainty. It's about trusting that even when you don't know how things will turn out, you're still willing to take that first step.

The same thing that drove me up that skate ramp would later give me the courage to resign from my successful company, 6.2, while married with three kids, to chase snow with my family.

When we landed in the United States in 2016, eight days after walking out on not only that meeting in McLaren Vale but also my own company, we set up a plan. We flipped the script — from the office to the mountains. We went from our beachside town in Stanwell Park, my Sydney studio and three kids in school to leaving it all behind to find nature and some balance. I was 41.

Our plan was to spend three months in Lake Tahoe, California, right at the bottom of Heavenly Mountain. We would take some time out and hit reset. Those three months became four years. Over those four years, our family of five travelled the world chasing snow while designing, creating and eventually running a successful micro-creative agency from some of the most beautiful places on the planet.

INSIGHTS

Leaving my business behind, which I had spent five years building, was terrifying. We needed everything to fall into place perfectly to afford to globe-trot around the world's best ski resorts. I must be clear: we couldn't afford to do this, but I couldn't afford not to. If things didn't fall into place, we could lose everything.

For four years, we flipped the switch on society's idea of normal. While our kids were still young enough to hang with us but old enough to understand the significance, we bounced between Stanwell Park in New South Wales, Australia, the mountains of California, Colorado, Salt Lake City and the cities of San Francisco, Los Angeles — with side trips to Italy, the United Kingdom, New Zealand and mountains in Australia. We chased winters relentlessly between 2016 and 2020, refining our understanding of nature, climate and intention, and building a company on the values of those experiences.

As I mention in the introduction, that meeting in late 2016 was a crucible moment for me. Now, I need to go back even further to introduce you to a few important people in this story. The rock who makes my world tick and who supported the crazy idea of leaving our world behind was my best friend and partner for life, Nicola Carter. I met Nicola in 1997. Nicola was on an adventure of her own, and our worlds collided in Sydney. Our first kiss was on a North Sydney train station platform. It wasn't just a moment in time that, for me at least, was the beginning of my life as I know it today. Our shared passions — adventure, nature, sports and snow — bound us. Nicola, a lawyer in the making, put her career on hold for the same reason I left cricket (I will get to cricket later): the pursuit of adventure.

Falling in love was the easiest thing I have ever done. We had shared a love of snow sports and the outdoors; adventure would be our guide. Nicola became my rock and muse, supporting my wildest dreams and half-baked ideas with unwavering enthusiasm. Even after over two decades together, she still listens to my crazy schemes, not with doubt but with the belief that each one is possible, that every half-baked plan could change everything — another new adventure.

Nicola is a life-altering connection who inspires me every day. I knew then, and I certainly know now, that the most critical decision we ever make is not where we work or who we party with but who we choose to build relationships with for the rest of our lives. Having a tribe you care for and love and who are also good teammates softens the rough edges and magnifies the shine of life. No decision in my life has been more critical.

Meeting Nicola in 1997 encapsulated the nineties for me, a decade that holds a special place in my heart; I adored that decade! It was an era of boundless optimism, untamed ambition and the belief that love could conquer all, marked by grunge music, iconic films and a cultural shift in sports like snowboarding and surfing, not to mention the internet. The decade promised a future more connected than we could have imagined, reshaping the world to the sounds of Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Hole and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. It is an unforgettable soundtrack to a decade filled with radical changes.

In 1998, Vancouver became my playground, and Nicola — who I would go on to marry in 2003 — became my true north. I was a 23-year-old Australian transitioning from cricket to snowy slopes, eager to discover a fresh path. Armed with a snowboard instructor certification, I found a new home among the mountains and immersed myself in this world: teaching, revelling in the nightlife, embarking on adventures and, most significantly, falling in love.

As we moved into 1999, I was on a mission to create my immortality through branding. However, building new brands proved challenging, so I sought partnerships with US brands looking for a foothold in Australia. I met several now-iconic brands, including meeting with eyewear brand VonZipper in Los Angeles before their official launch. Their wild, unconventional vibe made me sceptical about their business prospects. I also had breakfast with the founders of lifestyle brand Volcom, whose laid-back approach didn't strike me as a formula for success. Another meeting was with Sector 9 skateboards, where I wondered about the potential of those young entrepreneurs. A chance encounter with Merrell footwear ended in a pass from me. Interestingly, Adidas saw potential where I didn't, and, of course, VonZipper, Volcom and Sector 9 all saw significant success.

INSIGHTS

At 24, I knew very little about the intricacies of business — while I had an undeniable desire to be part of it, I lacked any substantial knowledge. Potential lies not only in the idea behind a brand but also in its ability to solve a market problem, fill a gap and be driven by talented individuals. While market influencers contributed to the success of brands such as VonZipper, most success stories stem from a powerful vision, visionary leadership and a great team. It took me a long time to learn that lesson.

By 2000, I'd found the first company I wanted to align myself with — a small business called Utopia Optics. What followed was an extraordinary business journey where I built a lifelong admiration for part-owner Brad Gerlach, a legendary pro surfer and an icon out of California. Brad became crucial in my journey, introducing me to influential personalities such as Pamela Anderson, Snoop Dogg and Kelly Slater in Los Angeles. These encounters broadened my perspective and opened doors I never imagined. We created a fun, market-shifting brand that led to unforgettable experiences. In 2000, for example, we hosted Australia's first-ever Night Pipe Jam at Perisher Valley, an event built from scratch to showcase the country's rising snowboarding talent, including the then 13-year-old Torah Bright (now an Olympic gold and silver medallist and a family friend). We lit up the halfpipe with cherry pickers, creating a spectacle. Chris Mater from Red Bull backed the event, making it one of Red Bull's first partnerships in Australia.

In 2000, we also became the primary sponsor for the fifth year of the Offshore Festival, held at the same time as famous surfing competition in Bells Beach, Torquay (now known as the Rip Curl Pro). We rented a little beachside cabin and, by chance, shared it with Mick Fanning's family. That was the year the wiry 19-year-old Mick, as a wildcard, was invited to Bells for the first time at the beginning of his career, symbolising new hope for Australian surfing. He would go on to win it the following year.

We also learnt a lesson in what not to do. We handed out hundreds of Utopia Optics stickers, only to have people plaster them all over Bells. This led to a warning from the Torquay Council on environmental laws and the World Surf League threatening to ban us from the overuse of stickers at a significantly sponsored event. The lessons and experiences were hard and fast.

Those early years were a nonstop hustle, sustained by petrol fumes and relentless grit. You often don't orchestrate a culture; it happens organically. Our unplanned culture needed an astronomical jolt of energy. We'd haphazardly gained new brands such as LINE Skis, Onetrack Snowboards and Roial Clothing — all unproven start-ups. These were exciting propositions, but we needed the established legacy to catapult real growth.

One pivotal encounter during these years was with Chip Wilson, the visionary behind Westbeach (snow and surf apparel) and later Lululemon (premium athletic apparel). Chip's ability to capture and transform cultural trends into unique products was unmatched. I remember one meeting where he mentioned his new idea of athletic wear tailored for women. I dismissed it as uninspiring. In hindsight, it was a glimpse of a potential life-altering brand. At the time of writing, Lululemon Athletica was valued at over $40 billion.

These early lessons all fed into my creativity and approach when forming my company 6.2 in 2009. In some small way, they also fed into my decision to leave that company in 2016.

INSIGHTS

Some people look at my decision to give up my company 6.2 to chase snow with my family at 41 and slap a ‘mid-life crisis’ label on it. That's lazy thinking. A crisis is a mess; what I did was calculated. It was based on years of understanding myself, my family and my business, and making a decision that aligned with all three.