Typical office and meeting rooms are often sober, functional, and formal. Subtly, they signal that people are expected to fulfill their roles and to do so in a compliant and norm-oriented way. Original or unconventional thoughts are not particularly welcome. Showing up with all facets of one’s personality is not encouraged. Formal spaces silently communicate: “Adapt. Be orderly. Be well-behaved.”

Because we are so accustomed to gray, rectangular rooms, we rarely notice their impact. The difference only becomes tangible when we enter a different, more human-centered space: the atmosphere is relaxed, people breathe more freely, feel at ease, and open up. Such settings support genuine human presence and therefore deep transformation processes, far better than traditional meeting rooms.

Deliberately arranging the circle of chairs is indeed part of preparing a setting that welcomes people as whole human beings. I place each chair mindfully, thinking about the person who will sit there. The circle is not merely a shape, it is a working instrument. We like to say that we work with the circle, not just in the circle.

Working with the circle emphasizes its functionality. It creates mutual visibility. Nothing stands between participants. Intuitively, a sense of community and equality emerges. The circle becomes a conscious invitation to meet as a group: a deliberately designed format that supports connection and equal participation.

I also understand the circle as an active working instrument because it evokes something in people that other settings rarely do. In a circle, people tend to be more attentive and constructive. Many find it easier to express themselves, to listen, and to experience themselves as part of a larger whole. A sense of equality, connection, and “we-ness” arises more quickly.

At the same time, the circle brings vitality into the room. This is reflected, for example, in a consciously designed centre: a round rug, one we often bring ourselves, with a shallow glass bowl filled with water, a stone, branches, or a blossom, and, where appropriate, even a candle. These elements serve as a calm, shared focal point where one’s gaze can rest. They invite arrival, deep breathing, and presence. Difficult matters can be spoken into the centre instead of firing “arrows” at others.

The candle adds an archaic dimension: fire as an ancient symbol of community, warmth, and gathering. Just as people have always gathered around a fire, the circle today creates a protected space for exchange and authentic togetherness. That is why we do not simply work in the circle, but consciously with it, as an instrument that fosters connection, vitality, and depth.

You could invite participants to build the circle themselves and make that the first topic. Questions such as: How much distance do we need from one another? How closely do we want to sit? Is it important that everyone can see everyone? What kind of order serves us best?

The choice of location depends heavily on the context and purpose: What is the gathering about? What should participants experience? What themes are central? The space and its design are selected to support precisely that.

Symbolic and experiential elements also play a role. Depending on the topic, objects or images are introduced to make the theme tangible. For leadership themes, for example, we once placed a wooden sword and a large cardboard heart in the centre of the circle, symbolizing clarity, discernment, decisiveness, and humanity. These symbols are actively integrated into the process, so the location is not merely a backdrop but a contributor.

For instance, you might place the wooden sword on someone’s lap and say: “Here it is. Step into leadership.”

Unconventional methods are often more easily accepted off-site because simply changing location opens people up. If the space is not just a standard seminar hotel but greener, more natural, brighter, built from unusual materials, overall warmer in atmosphere, the willingness to engage with something unfamiliar increases even further.

We look closely at aspects such as proximity to nature and context: Is the location in nature or in a settlement? Is there quiet and distance from everyday life? Does the room have light from two sides or even a skylight? Does the building have a warm atmosphere and perhaps a non-rectangular shape? Can small groups work outdoors in good weather? Is it possible to light a fire? Is lighting a candle (placed in a bowl of water) permitted? Are there unusual seating options, like a bench along the wall or a sofa?

Especially valuable are houses a group can use exclusively, with a workspace, shared kitchen, and homelike atmosphere. Such places allow for more intensive collaboration. In recent years, more of these venues have emerged, some high-end and costly, others simple and affordable.

The choice always depends on the mandate: What is the meeting for? What should be experienced? For formats that aim to take people far out of their daily routines, we deliberately choose remote locations, perhaps deep in the forest, with simple houses, fire, candles, or oil lamps. This supports retreat, focus, and even archaic qualities.

If a location is not ideal, we still work with what is there. For example, we might bring colored spotlights to create subtle lighting accents, avoid dark corners, and consciously incorporate existing elements into the design.

The key question is whether the place can serve the purpose. That determines whether it fits.

A location can be deliberately chosen or used to evoke specific behaviors. Sometimes that means making things physically tighter so people must move closer together. This can provoke proximity and clarification, provided there are breakout spaces for temporary relaxation. On an alpine retreat, for example, the kitchen, outdoor area, and adjacent rooms were essential for alternating between closeness and distance.

Places with fire, warmth, and a central gathering space, combined with breakout rooms, are often beneficial.

Shared self-catering can also shift dynamics: bringing food, cooking together, preparing things collectively. All of this fosters connection and can reduce tension. Simple, archaic elements, like a picnic, modest food, chopping wood for the fire, working outdoors, or sitting together by candle or oil lamp in the evening often support the process.

Even when teams must use their regular office space, they can intentionally modify it to create a different experience. The goal is not necessarily a spectacular “aha” effect but a noticeable feeling: Today, this is different. Here, I am allowed to be more than just my function.

This can be achieved through small, deliberate changes that subtly “de-familiarize” the space and create a new atmosphere. For example, a vividly illustrated agenda visualized as a shared journey across a long strip of paper with lines, symbols, and drawings. Or introducing a plush toy as a speaking object, accompanied by a short story, visibly placed in a corner from the start. Such elements already signal upon entering: This room is being used differently today.

Exactly. That is much more emotional like a picture book. Ideally, it stretches across nearly an entire wall. Presenting the agenda verbally in this way sends participants on an inner journey from the very beginning, creating a subtle opening for what they are about to engage in.

And you can become even more creative.

By creating an unfamiliar, more vibrant working atmosphere. With colorful tape, for example, you can extend the lines of a “journey agenda” across walls, windows, or doors, or tape models such as four quadrants directly onto the floor or wall. The room then feels more playful and less rigidly functional.

(Editorial note: Use high-quality markers and tape that won’t damage walls or leave permanent marks.)

Other options include deliberate lighting accents, unconventional seating such as exercise balls, or consciously using the floor instead of chairs. Such changes shift people out of habitual patterns, both physically and mentally. When posture changes, by sitting or working on the floor, more proximity, vitality, and access to alternative forms of perception and exchange emerge.

You can also stage the transition into the room, for example, by constructing a symbolic doorway from cardboard boxes. If there is no physical journey to an unfamiliar place, such a threshold can replace it.

Matthias: Even today, many companies want to do things differently and are searching for new ways to create organizations that are both human and productive. That is where I focus my attention. Complaining is the worst thing we can do because it keeps us in inner resistance and stabilizes a reality we do not want.

Jutta: I fully agree. This “return to classic models” can also be an opportunity, for people who realize they no longer want that. Who feel a hunger for freedom, clarity, and living their potential. And for joy and a spirit of friendship.