Chaos in the Cards: Part 3
Alys now stood in the center of the newly blossomed garden. It resembled a colorful greenhouse of thought, where ideas sprouted like tulips from teapots. The air was as fresh as new ideas, the colors glowed like insights after a successful workshop, and small, fluttering butterflies floated through the clear sky like memoirs of a project that had understood itself.
The Red Regent had transformed into a gently smiling figure and removed her rigid crown.
“You have changed Wonderland,” she said to Alys, “but now you must return; real projects await.” She snapped her fingers, and Alys felt as if she were falling in slow motion. She sailed through darkness until her feet touched solid ground again, and she found herself in a gloomy forest clearing. Tall coniferous trees towered around her, standing so close together that hardly any light penetrated the branches. In the middle of the clearing was a small lake with an unusually reflective surface. As Alys approached, the water rippled as if a thought had brushed over it.
Alys hesitantly leaned over the mirroring water and saw not only her own visage reflected in it, but also the faces of her teammates. They all looked at each other questioningly, searching, ready for something new.
“The looking glass is ready,” whispered the trees around them. They wavered slightly, as if leaning into a gentle breeze. “But you can only cross it if you take some contemplation with you.”
Alys looked around uncertainly, searching for someone she could address directly. “Um… And how exactly do I do that?” she said into the void.
“Reflection is not merely a glance in the rearview mirror of reason. It is a tool, a steaming teapot full of insight, a distillation apparatus for both sense and nonsense.”
The fir trees swayed lazily from side to side, the lake rippled with small waves reflecting a faint ray of sunlight that seemed to come from nowhere, and tiny sparks of reflection scattered like fireflies through the twilight, illuminating the dim clearing. “You must take them with you,” whispered the trees, “in your thoughts, in your actions, to your team—otherwise they will remain nothing more than pretty steam.”
No sooner had these words been spoken than the flaming mirror sparks rose, swirled around, and rearranged themselves until they appeared like living mobiles of meaning. They formed six glowing symbols, and Alys understood instantly what they meant.
The first was a small lantern that illuminated causes and revealed connections.
The second appeared again as a small mirror, intended to reflect the benefits of teamwork. Alys recognized transparency, misunderstandings, motivation, and a cheerful, nodding working atmosphere.
The next symbol consisted of a few cogwheels, which were probably meant to represent processes; they clicked and clacked when tasks dragged on or documentation turned into puzzles.
Another symbol bore a scepter and a mask. They certainly stood for roles and organization and showed how leadership arises through participation and how shirking responsibility becomes visible.
The fifth was enveloped in a small thunderstorm, which apparently symbolized conflict. But the symbol smiled serenely, because it knew how to tame escalations and channel emotions toward productivity.
Finally, the last one wore a golden medallion. Its effects left a trail of clear acceptance processes, better control, and fragrant project acceleration.
The glowing symbols circled around each other, connecting, exchanging arguments like candy, and finally forming a single shimmering diagram. Alys watched as each symbol contributed to the glowing reflection like crumbs of insight from Wonderland, quietly nestling into her thoughts.
“A diagram for thinking, a dance of insight,” murmured the forest.
Alys stepped closer to the reflective pond. The surface began to glow, and out of nowhere, Alys realized what she had to do. She reached out her hands, dipped them in, let some of the cool water flood her hollowed palms, gently lifted them to her mouth, and took a sip.
The taste was complex: a hint of responsibility, a pinch of conflict resolution, a drop of process awareness, and a strong dash of team transparency. Alys’ thoughts fell into place, her posture became clearer, her gaze more focused.
She took a deep breath and looked around the clearing one last time. The conifers leaned encouragingly and whispered affirmation.
“I am ready,” said Alys, stepping into the liquid looking glass, the glowing sparks following her like principles of good teamwork.
As she parted the surface of the lake, she thought back briefly on her long journey through Wonderland, which, thanks to her, was no longer chaotic but could now flourish vivaciously. She smiled triumphantly and took another step into the pond. It was deeper than it looked, and soon she was completely submerged, the water gently slamming over her head, then swallowing her whole and pulling her down toward the dazzling reality she had once left behind.
Alys landed gently on the carpet of her familiar office. Her robe and playing cards had disappeared, and the symbols were no longer swirling before her eyes, but their effect lingered.
Full of determination and confidence, Alys made her way out of her office and back to the conference room where her team was waiting for her. When she appeared before them, they all looked up as if they had immediately noticed that something had changed. Alys smiled at them one by one.
“I was traveling,” she said, “in a land without structure, but full of insights.”
“What happens now?” asked the team, and Alys pulled the whiteboard toward her and smiled mischievously. She reminisced about thought-provoking snacks, polite chairs, and cups full of helpful steam.
“We’re going to take a look back.” The team looked puzzled, but Alys continued undeterred and drew on the empty whiteboard.
She wrote down everything important, starting with what had caused them all difficulties in the project so far, to her experiences in the wonderful land of chaos, to the insights she had gained from the lake of reflection.
The other team members watched her work intently, never taking their eyes off the whiteboard for a second. As she wrote, Alys explained everything to them (well, almost everything; she kept the descriptions of neurotic rodents, flying decks of cards, and singing plants to herself for the time being). The group listened attentively and nodded. Not mechanically, but like flowers turning toward the sun.
They could all feel it: the tides had turned.
The meeting began anew, this time with fresh motivation, and instead of a rigid plan, questions fluttered through the room like butterflies bringing a breath of fresh air:
“What have we overlooked? What can we rethink together?”
And so the real journey began—not through Wonderland, but through the world beyond the looking glass. But with thoughtful reflection in their luggage, their maps full of insight, and a cup full of leadership qualities, even reality was a place full of possibilities, full of change, full of living structure.
Reflection is not a luxury. It is the emergency kit for every project and its team.
It brings clarity, resolves conflicts, promotes trust, and transforms chaotic meetings into productive discussions. And sometimes – very rarely – it even saves the world on a microcosmic scale (at least if there’s enough time…).
When a project looks like an apocalypse, even Excel zombies are drowning in chaos, and communication ruins extend across all reports, reflection can be the plot twist that brings the team back together.
And if Alys hasn’t gotten lost in another rabbit hole, she’s still saving projects today…
The End