Rhizomatic Thinking: Moving Beyond the Linear Path of Change
We often approach personal growth as if we are climbing a ladder. We look for the next rung, assuming that if we apply enough effort, we will eventually reach a new height. This linear perspective suggests that change is a straight line—a sequence of steps moving from a problem toward a solution.
It is the way most of us were taught to think: cause and effect, beginning and end, seed and tree.
But the nervous system rarely operates in straight lines.
When we observe the way a shift in perception actually occurs, it looks less like a ladder and more like a rhizome. In botany, a rhizome is a subterranean plant stem that spreads horizontally beneath the soil. Plants such as ginger or bamboo grow this way, sending out new shoots from multiple points rather than rising from a single trunk.
A rhizome has no clear centre and no defined beginning or end. If it is cut, it simply regrows from another node.
Human experience often works in a similar way.
The Limitation of the Tree Model
Most traditional approaches to change rely on what could be called the “tree model.” The assumption is that behaviour grows from a single root cause somewhere in the past. If the root can be located and removed, the problem should disappear.
In practice, many people discover that identifying a root cause does not always dissolve the pattern. They may understand where a reaction began, yet the internal experience continues to appear in daily life.
This happens because human experience is rarely organised like a tree with one trunk and one root. Instead, it is closer to a network of interconnected nodes.
Take something like anxiety around work deadlines. It may involve the thought of an approaching task, a tightening sensation in the chest, a memory of being criticised in school, and the habit of mentally rehearsing worst-case outcomes. Each of these elements connects with the others. No single piece fully explains the pattern.
The experience is not linear. It is rhizomatic.
Observing the Web of Experience
When we stop searching for a single cause and begin observing the network itself, attention naturally shifts.
Instead of asking where something started, we begin noticing how different elements of experience link together. A thought about tomorrow’s meeting might create tension in the jaw. That physical tension may trigger a memory of a past conversation. The memory then subtly shapes how we respond to someone later in the day.
None of these points is necessarily the beginning.
They are simply nodes in a web.
In coaching contexts, this is often where conversations begin to move beyond the ordinary narrative structure. Rather than following the story the mind has rehearsed many times before, attention can move toward the small moments that stand out: a shift in breathing, an unexpected pause in language, or a sentence that seems to branch off in a surprising direction.
Those moments often reveal new pathways in the network.
The Strength of the Non-Linear
A rhizome is resilient precisely because it has no single centre. If one pathway is blocked, growth simply continues through another node.
Our habits often behave the same way. When we try to force change through willpower alone—a top-down, linear approach—the system frequently reorganises itself and continues the pattern in a different form.
This is why certain habits seem to return even after we believe we have solved them.
Yet the same structure that maintains patterns also makes meaningful shifts possible.
Because the network is interconnected, a change does not have to occur at the “top” or at the supposed root. A small shift in how one element of the system is perceived can send subtle ripples through the rest of the network.
Change becomes less about fixing something broken and more about reorganising the structure of experience.
It is the difference between pruning a tree into a specific shape and allowing a garden to slowly rebalance itself.
Beyond the Narrative
When we step outside the linear narrative of “why this happened,” a different question begins to emerge.
Instead of asking why the pattern started, we can notice how it continues to organise itself in the present moment.
Our thoughts, physical sensations, memories, and language form a complex internal map that we navigate continuously. Often we are so immersed in the map that we forget we are the ones moving through it.
When the map becomes visible, movement within it begins to change naturally.
The pressure to make progress or reach a destination fades. There is no ladder to climb. There is only a network of connections gradually revealing itself.
By observing how attention moves through this network—from thought to sensation, from memory to language—we shift from being carried along by the pattern to quietly observing its structure.
And it is often in this simple act of observation that the most meaningful changes begin to occur.
This non-linear perspective on language and experience also forms the foundation for more intensive shifts in perception. To see how this approach can create rapid reorganisation in real time, you may want to explore the concept of Chain Voiding, where the nervous system briefly steps outside its habitual network altogether.