Hosts to Possibility
A visionary look at how novel attributes arise and become transformative innovations in nature, culture, and technology
The Origins of the New presents a revolutionary approach to evolutionary success in all realms of life. In this groundbreaking book, Douglas Erwin takes readers on a dazzling excursion across science and history to explore how evolution generates new and enduring features in biology, culture, and technology.
Erwin begins by tracing how thinkers from Darwin’s time to the present day have sought to discover the driving mechanisms of evolutionary novelty. He then lays out compelling empirical evidence for separating novelty from innovation, showing how novelty involves the emergence of unique characteristics while innovation has to do with the success of those characteristics across time.
Erwin develops a unifying conceptual framework for these powerful dynamics, demonstrating how they have shaped everything from the evolution of avian feathers and flight to the creation of human language and the breathtaking advances in digital computing we’re witnessing today.
A landmark work that redefines our understanding of the changes happening all around us, The Origins of the New reveals how the forces of novelty and innovation are the same across nature and culture, continually producing new forms and refashioning the world as we know it.
Published in association with the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, Washington, DC
The Origins of the New presents a revolutionary approach to evolutionary success in all realms of life. In this groundbreaking book, Douglas Erwin takes readers on a dazzling excursion across science and history to explore how evolution generates new and enduring features in biology, culture, and technology.
Erwin begins by tracing how thinkers from Darwin’s time to the present day have sought to discover the driving mechanisms of evolutionary novelty. He then lays out compelling empirical evidence for separating novelty from innovation, showing how novelty involves the emergence of unique characteristics while innovation has to do with the success of those characteristics across time.
Erwin develops a unifying conceptual framework for these powerful dynamics, demonstrating how they have shaped everything from the evolution of avian feathers and flight to the creation of human language and the breathtaking advances in digital computing we’re witnessing today.
A landmark work that redefines our understanding of the changes happening all around us, The Origins of the New reveals how the forces of novelty and innovation are the same across nature and culture, continually producing new forms and refashioning the world as we know it.
Published in association with the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, Washington, DC
Hosts to Possibility
The Creative Life in Process Perspective
In The Origins of the New: Novelty and Innovation in the History of Life, Culture, and Technology, Douglas Erwin highlights the importance of what he calls “opportunity spaces”—contexts in which new forms of life, thought, and practice emerge. He suggests that innovation is not simply a matter of making better moves on an already existing chessboard, but of creating new boards on which different kinds of moves become possible.
This resonates deeply with a process-relational understanding of the world as a creative advance into novelty. The very image of "opportunity spaces" invites us to imagine the creative life as one of generating such spaces - spaces that are physical or mental, cultural or psychological, that become contexts in which novelty can arise and innovation can occur.
In process philosophy, we never create these spaces alone. We do it in implicit collaboration with other people who have influenced us, with the more-than-human world, which likewise shapes us in countless ways, and with a cosmic lure toward creative living—a universal spirit of creativity and love, often addressed as "God."
Still, there is our own individual contribution. We can become hosts to possibility—participants in a way of living in which we seek, as best we can, to create opportunity spaces and thus to welcome what is new into the world.
Toward this end, it can help to be intentional: to think of ourselves as hosts to possibility. This does not mean that we must be artists, inventors, or founders of new worlds. It means, rather, that we cultivate a certain posture—a way of being present to situations that is open, responsive, and attuned to what might emerge.
To be a host to possibility, then, is to foster conditions in which something new and life-giving can arise. Such hosting may occur at a micro-level. It may be as simple as listening with genuine care, asking a question that opens rather than closes, or creating a space in which others feel safe to contribute. It may involve small acts of encouragement, subtle shifts in tone, or a willingness to depart from familiar patterns when they no longer serve the good of those involved.
In this sense, hosting possibility is less about control and more about receptivity. It is a way of participating in the creative advance not by forcing outcomes, but by making room—room for novelty, for connection, and for transformation. To live this way is to trust that something more is always possible—not guaranteed, not predetermined, but possible. And it is to offer ourselves, however imperfectly, as participants in that possibility.
But this participation does not usually take the form of creating entirely new worlds from scratch. More often, it unfolds within the conditions we inherit.
In human life, we are not always able to construct entirely new boards in order to participate in creativity. More often—and more accessibly—we are invited into a different kind of innovation: the transformation of the spaces we already inhabit. We take what has been given—classrooms, congregations, families, communities, our own lives—and we inhabit them differently. We listen differently. We respond differently. We relate differently. And in doing so, the space itself begins to change. It becomes, in effect, a new kind of “board,” one in which new possibilities for flourishing can take root.
Thus, we can distinguish between two kinds of creativity: originary creativity and transformative creativity.
Originary creativity is the emergence of genuinely new structures—new “boards” on which life can be lived. It includes the founding of new institutions, the invention of new technologies, the creation of new artistic forms, and the birth of new cultural patterns. It is relatively rare, often dramatic, and sometimes world-changing. It expands the range of what is possible by introducing contexts that did not previously exist.
Transformative creativity, by contrast, lies at the heart of the creative life as it is lived day by day. It works within what has already been given. It is the reinhabiting of existing structures—social, cultural, relational—in ways that open them to possibilities that were previously unrealized or even unimagined. It does not require new boards so much as new ways of playing them. A classroom becomes a space of shared inquiry rather than passive reception. A congregation becomes a space of genuine encounter rather than mere repetition. A family becomes a space of mutual becoming rather than fixed roles.
In this sense, the creative life consists not in escaping the worlds we inherit, but in inhabiting them so differently that new worlds begin to appear within them.
What might this creative life look like in practice? I offer some examples: the creative life at home, in the workplace, in the classroom, in politics, and in personal spirituality.
The Creative Life at Home
"At home, I find that the creative life takes shape in the textures of everyday relationship. It shows up in how I listen, how I speak, how I share space, and how I respond to the needs and moods of others. A home can easily become a place of repetition and habit, but I can also help it become an evolving field of care. When I prepare a meal, ask a sincere question, or offer patience instead of irritation, I am helping to open new possibilities for connection. To be a host to possibility at home is to resist fixed roles and to allow each person—including myself—to keep becoming. It is to help create an atmosphere in which warmth, humor, forgiveness, and mutual support can take root."
The Creative Life in the Workplace
"In the workplace, I am often tempted to think of creativity in terms of productivity or innovation. But I have come to see that it also includes the cultivation of environments where people feel seen, respected, and able to contribute. A workplace becomes an opportunity space, in part, through how I relate to others—whether I welcome ideas or dismiss them, whether I foster trust or contribute to anxiety. Even within constraints, I can help shape the ethos of my work by how I communicate, how I include others, and how I respond to challenges. In this way, even routine tasks can become occasions for shared purpose and meaningful engagement."
The Creative Life in the Classroom (from a teacher's perspective)
"In the classroom, I experience the creative life not only in what is taught but in the relational field between myself and students. A classroom can easily become a site of passive reception, but I can also help it become a space of shared inquiry. When I invite participation, honor diverse perspectives, and cultivate curiosity, I am hosting possibility. I am learning, too, that students are not simply recipients but co-creators of the learning environment. When they engage, question, and contribute, something new emerges among us. In such moments, education becomes less about transferring information and more about participating together in an unfolding process of discovery."
The Creative Life in Politics
"In politics, I find myself confronted by the temptation toward cynicism, polarization, and withdrawal. Yet I also see that political life can be reinhabited as a field of possibility. I can contribute, in however small a way, to spaces where dialogue is respectful, where listening matters, and where differences are engaged rather than dismissed. Hosting possibility in politics, for me, means resisting despair and seeking ways to support justice, sustainability, and inclusion. It means remembering that political life is not only about power, but about the ongoing shaping of our shared world."
The Creative Life in Personal Spirituality
"In my own spiritual life, the creative life feels like a process of attunement. I seek to become more receptive to the deeper currents of meaning, value, and connection that move through experience. At times, this involves practices such as meditation, prayer, reflection, time in nature, or engagement with music and art—ways of quieting distraction and opening myself to what is calling me forward. To be a host to possibility in this dimension is to remain open to transformation, to allow my inner life to be shaped by compassion, wonder, and a sense of participation in something larger than myself. It is not a withdrawal from the world, but a deepening of my capacity to live within it with presence and care."
The Creative Life in Community
"In community, I experience the creative life as something that arises between us, not simply within any one of us. A community can become fixed in patterns—roles, expectations, unspoken habits—or it can remain open, a living field in which relationships evolve and new forms of shared life emerge. I help shape this field by how I show up: whether I listen with openness, whether I make room for others, whether I contribute to trust or to tension. To host possibility in community is to support spaces where people can bring their voices, their gifts, and even their struggles into the shared life. It involves patience, mutual recognition, and a willingness to let the community itself keep becoming. In this way, community is not something static that we belong to; it is something we co-create, moment by moment, as we learn how to live together."