Finding calm in the midst of the desire for change

Monday, 8 June 2026

A river is always moving, with as rhythm that over time changes landscapes. Ben Kepes has started to think of the emotional regulation required to sustain the role of a change agent without burning out or burning bridges as being like the movement of a river.

Ben Kepes is a Canterbury-based entrepreneur and professional board member. He is a regular opinion contributor.

OPINION: The other day, I got into a situation where I pissed a bunch of people off.

Which is not unusual. The combination of having strong opinions, a strong sense of social justice, and a poor filter conspire to make me the resident provocateur in many different settings. I don’t go out of my way to annoy people, but I’m remarkably effective at doing so.

After the dust of that particular incident settled, I was chatting with a colleague who genuinely seemed amused rather than alarmed by my frequent detours into controversy. They pointed out, in the kind of offhand way that makes you realise someone’s been watching you more closely than you thought, that I seem to be wired for dynamic situations. I don’t just tolerate chaos or ambiguity; I invite it.

I thrive on new problems, shifting ground, and the exhilarating sense that everything might change in a moment, and that maybe, if I’m lucky, I might get to be part of that change.

It’s true. While some people seek predictability, I find stability a bit… stifling. I’ve always been drawn to the edge of things, the new idea, the unpopular opinion, the project nobody wants because it’s too messy. I love progress. I want to see systems evolve, communities expand their thinking, and individuals realise they can do more than they believed. I want better, faster, smarter. Forward.

But here’s the problem: forward is exhausting. And progress, by its very nature, disrupts. So my trait isn't always a positive, in fact, often it's a route to disharmony and discord.

Even when you’re pushing for positive change, and especially when you’re pushing hard, there’s a toll. Not just on others, who may resist or resent the discomfort you stir up, but on yourself. Because no matter how much you might enjoy the chaos intellectually, emotionally, it can grind you down.

There’s a paradox here. The same qualities that arguably make an individual good at instigating progress also make it hard to rest. When your brain is always scanning for what could be better, it becomes almost impossible to sit with what simply is.

And this, I’ve come to realise, is where the Zen comes in.

By Zen, I don’t mean the aesthetic of minimalism or some vague Instagrammable idea of “peace”. I mean a deliberate practice of presence. A cultivated ability to breathe through the discomfort of things not being fixed yet. A quiet respect for the moment, even when, especially when, it’s imperfect.

While change agents are often celebrated for their ability to disrupt and drive progress, what’s less talked about is the emotional regulation required to sustain that role without burning out or burning bridges. That’s where Zen becomes not just useful, but essential.

You can be someone who moves things forward without constantly being in motion yourself. You can be rooted, even as you reach. It’s not about slowing down progress; it’s about making sure the person doing the pushing has the inner stillness to survive the journey.

It takes mindfulness for change agents to be at their most effective, Ben Kepes says.

I’ve started to think of it like a river cutting through rock. It’s always moving, yes, but it moves with a rhythm. It doesn’t flail. It flows. And over time, that kind of motion changes landscapes. Of course, thinking about it and actually doing it are two different things; I'm far better at understanding what is required to maintain equanimity than actually doing it.

The moments when a change agent is most effective at actually creating positive, lasting change, aren't when one is yelling the loudest or pushing the hardest. They happen when one is firmly planted on the ground. When one works to sense the temperature of the room, the readiness of the people, and adjust accordingly. That takes mindfulness. That takes Zen.

So yes, there is progress. Change is always on the menu. But in addition, one needs to cogitate upon the fact that without a foundation of internal calm, that progress is more scattershot than strategic. It frays relationships. It burns through energy. It may even miss the mark entirely.

Of course, I’m still outspoken. I probably always will be. But I’m also trying (albeit with limited success) to speak from a place of clarity, not just conviction. To choose my battles not just based on what needs to change, but on whether I have the presence to see it through. It’s not about muting the fire. It’s about tending it more wisely.

Because in the end, what’s the point of all this progress if we can’t sit still long enough to appreciate it?