On Words, Not-Knowing, and the Noosphere: Reflections After Reading Vernadsky

Non-linear thinking can take me from puzzled and overwhelmed to curious and full of wonder — sometimes in just a few spirals. And that’s okay.

For the past few weeks, I've been exploring the power of new words.

Not just words as linguistic tools, but words as bridges — between thought and expression, between people, between realms of knowing.

My thinking usually starts as images — scattered, nonlinear, often without a clear destination. It can be difficult to put these thoughts into words.

And so, it's not always easy to be understood.

But sometimes, when I find the right sentence, when I stumble upon a phrase that captures something I felt before but never managed to articulate — I feel joy.

A sense of connection.

Because that sentence gives me access:

• to conversations I couldn't have before,

• to feedback I couldn't receive before,

• to knowledge I couldn't search for before (hello, Google keywords).

Recently, one such word crossed my path: "noosphere." — the idea that Earth evolves from a geological sphere (geosphere) to a biological sphere (biosphere), and into a sphere shaped by conscious human thought: the noosphere.

A living layer of 'collective intelligence'.

I found it beautiful.

Mysterious.

Charged with potential.

As someone working on systemic innovation in digital healthcare — using networks, data, and shared knowledge to improve how we care — the idea resonated deeply. I saw parallels with the work I'm involved in: initiatives like OHDSI, Data4PHM, Health Campus Limburg — all exploring the power of distributed insight and co-evolving systems.

So I did what I often do when something grabs my attention: I followed the thread.

That led me to a book called "150 Years Vernadsky".

Vernadsky, I learned, was one of the earliest thinkers to describe the noosphere.

But…

I’ll admit:

Reading the book was hard.

Really hard.

I wanted clarity, and instead I got more questions.

Who was this man?

Why had I never heard of him before?

Why is someone so central to systemic thinking and planetary consciousness relatively obscure — at least in the Western discourse I was exposed to?

And why couldn’t I fully grasp what he meant?

Was it the language?

The time period?

Or maybe I just wasn’t ready yet.

As often happens when I dive deep, I felt overwhelmed.

The deeper I searched, the more I read, the more I realized how little I knew.

My curiosity turned into chaos.

Old patterns resurfaced — of getting lost in thought-mazes, disappearing for days in mental spirals.

But lately, I've learned to pause.

I asked myself:🌀 “Okay, you don’t know everything. But what do you know? What has this book given you already?”

So I opened ChatGPT.I asked it to help me understand.

To help me connect the dots.

And that’s how I found Nora Bateson. Nora is the daughter of Gregory Bateson, a pioneering systems theorist and ecological thinker. Nora’s work — especially her "Warm Data Labs" — builds on his legacy with a beautiful, relational, poetic depth. Warm Data are contextual and relational information about complex systems. In other words, warm data involve transcontextual information about the interrelationships that integrate a complex system, as well as interwoven complex systems (more details: consult the website of the International Bateson Institute)

From there, I landed in a podcast: Bateson Café.

And I heard this quote:

“An apple seed is not yet an apple. It has a journey to make. And that journey matters.”

Yes.

That's how I feel.

My discovery of noosphere is still a seed.

I don’t know yet what fruit it will bear, how it will shape my work or life.

But I trust the journey.

And the journey, already, gave me these insights:

Interdisciplinary exploration matters.

Vernadsky and Bateson were both deeply cross-boundary thinkers.

They drew from science, philosophy, poetry, ecology.

That’s a path I want to follow too — not towards expertise, but towards expansion through curiosity and creativity.

Nonlinear thinking is not only allowed — it is essential.

It leads us into unknown territories.

It breaks patterns.

But yes, it can also be overwhelming.

And in those moments, it helps to remind myself:

I don’t need to know everything to know what to do now.

And today, that meant:

✨ Taking my kids to the swimming pool.

✨ Sitting in the cafeteria and reflecting on the past 24 hours.

✨ Writing this.

So for now, I’m putting the book down.

I’m returning to the ordinary moments.

To the now.

To life.

And I invite you to do the same.

Stay curious.

Keep searching.

That search will grow you.

But remember: You are allowed to live from the knowledge you already have.

That’s my daily practice.

Would you like to practice with me?

—To be continued.