Growing ideas slowly: how I found my creative home
I stumbled into this idea recently: digital gardening.
I’d heard the phrase before, but it never really clicked until I started reading more about it. And suddenly I found myself thinking:
“Hold up… this is literally what I’ve been doing for years.”
Not in a “finally, a system!” way.
More like: “Oh wow… my brain has a hometown.”
Let me explain.
I’ve never been a “systems guy”
Second Brain was the first “real system” I ever tried. And honestly?
At first, it felt right — like I finally found a grown-up way to handle my ideas. But over time something felt… off.
Kind of like Goldilocks trying the porridge and the bed and thinking,
“Eh… not quite it.”
I realized something important about myself:
I’m not a productivity guy.
Sure, I can get things done, but the whole “turn your ideas into action items” vibe never sat right with me. Second Brain is brilliant, but it’s built for motion — tasks, projects, outcomes.
Then I discovered Zettelkasten, and that felt closer to home.
I loved the idea of letting ideas talk to each other — of forming connections, of watching insights bump into each other in surprising ways. But then I learned Nicolas Luhmann designed the whole system to produce his writing — a kind of intellectual engine.
And that’s when it hit me:
I don’t think in straight lines — I think in trails.
What lights me up isn’t turning every note into a shiny finished piece.
It’s watching two ideas link arms out of nowhere, like,
“Oh hey… I didn’t know we were friends.”
That little click of connection?
That’s my oxygen.
Digital gardening gives me permission to do what I already do
When I finally learned what digital gardening actually means — a place where ideas grow slowly, shift over time, and don’t need to be polished — something in me exhaled.
Most systems want you to manage your thoughts.
Gardening invites you to steward them.
Most systems want you to produce.
Gardening invites you to notice.
Most systems want structure.
Gardening invites curiosity.
Digital gardening says the thing my soul has been whispering for years:
“Your job isn’t to finish every idea — your job is to cultivate them.”
And that feels like home.
My thinking has always been more… organic
I go for a walk, I notice something — a leaf, a creek, a quote, a weird little moment — and suddenly an idea unfolds.
I capture it.
I follow it.
I watch it branch.
Then another note shows up and joins the conversation.
Then another.
Before long I’ve got a whole map of ideas talking to each other.
That’s a garden.
Not a workflow.
Not an app.
Not a system.
A living landscape.
This also explains why I love thought maps
A garden grows in shapes — not bullet points.
When I drop thoughts onto a Sublime canvas and see them visually connect, it feels less like “note-taking” and more like walking through a field and discovering new paths.
It’s discovery.
It’s delight.
It’s exploration.
Zettelkasten is a grid.
Digital gardening is a meadow.
And I’m a meadow guy.
It also fits my faith
Gardens are threaded through Scripture:
Eden
Vineyards
Seeds and soil
“Consider the lilies…”
“I am the vine… you are the branches.”
God seems to enjoy growing things slowly.
So maybe it makes sense that the way I learn, think, and notice is also slow, layered, organic, relational — rooted in tending what I’ve been entrusted with.
Digital gardening isn’t just a method to me.
It’s a posture:
Pay attention.
Cultivate.
Steward.
Connect.
Trust God to grow what you plant.
So what does this mean for my work?
It means I’m leaning into this more intentionally.
My videos?
More about nurturing ideas than optimizing them.
My Substack?
More trails, more reflections, more seedlings I’m planting as I go.
My note-making?
Less pressure.
More wandering.
More “what if we follow this thought a little farther?”
Because the truth is:
I don’t want a second brain. I want a living garden.
A place where ideas aren’t stored — they’re cultivated.
Where connections aren’t forced — they emerge.
Where the goal isn’t finishing thoughts — it’s letting them breathe.
And honestly?
It feels like I finally landed in the lane I was made for.
If you’re curious what a digital garden actually looks like…
you can peek into mine inside Sublime. It’s messy in all the right ways—little idea seedlings, cross-pollinating notes, trails that branch off like a creek after the rain. Or try Sublime out for yourself. (It’s freaking awesome).
And if you want your own rhythm for growing ideas without forcing them, the Idea to Insight Masterclass gives you the exact rhythm I use to cultivate, shape, and share thoughts in a way that feels alive—not mechanical.
Your garden is already in you.
This just helps you tend it. 🌿
This is absolutely how my brain works. It’s a delightful way to live!