Part Two: The Great Resignation

When the world went silent, life cracked open in unexpected ways. Spending long hours in office compounds, constant travel and flights, the grind of routine… all the things that once felt immovable suddenly seemed extremely fragile. 

For many, this pause came as somewhat of a shock. But for others, it became a brand new opening. As the old systems paused and stalled, people began to do things and think about things completely differently, without even noticing until the shift was evident. 

What followed was not only the Great Resignation, but a Great Migration: a shift in where we live, how we work, what we value, and how we spend the abundance of newfound time.

What endured from the pandemic years was a quiet, yet powerful reorientation of how people began to realise that they now have the freedom to choose to live with purpose in a world desperate for (some sort of) intervention and fundamental change.

Leaving the Centre

For generations, cities carried the story of prosperity and ‘abundant’ lifestyles. If you wanted financial success and chasing ambition, you went to the tall glass offices and embraced the long daily commute. But when lockdown emptied the streets, a new story began to unravel…

Now, in a quieter world, amiss from sitting in standstill traffic and rushing to make it to the next appointment, many looked around and realised that their small apartments that were once sanctuaries had now become cages. The city life and opportunities that had promised everything suddenly became ghost towns with nothing to give in return.

And so people looked inward for other alternatives to fill that void of inherent human needs that the city was no longer serving. 

People started trading high-rise urban living for suburban houses with gardens. Young professionals left city rentals for towns where rent was lower and time felt a bit slower. Work had gone online, so location didn’t matter anymore. And there they found more air to breathe… more time to think about what matters to them and how to prioritise life and purpose over the blind daily grind. 

We saw how small towns grew livelier. Local shops found new customers. Small-scale farmers were experiencing an uptick in produce sales, and the countryside, long dismissed as peripheral, became central and appealing again.

Rediscovering The Outdoors

As gyms remained closed, cinemas went dark, and restaurant doors remained shut, we remembered that the forest trails and shorelines remained open. Walking, hiking, and mountain bike trails reclaimed agency for many. Gardens became a form of therapy as we started noticing what was growing around us and what incredible ecosystems of birds, bugs and critters thrived in harmony, while we were so busy, we had become none the wiser. The rhythms of weather and seasons became more present than any news feed and doomsday fearmongering headlines.

For many, this was an unconscious return to something they hadn’t realised they had been missing for so long. People began home composting, growing food, joining community gardens; as nature gave calm in a time of chaos, many chose to hold onto it and see what it might yield. 

When global supply chains buckled, local resilience began to rise. We began to witness neighbours checking in on one another, while mutual aid groups sprang up and people began ordering from the café down the road instead of franchise retail chains. Suddenly, supporting local wasn’t just a nice feeling; it became necessary to support each other.

What’s most profound is how much of this mentality stuck, long after the world opened up again. Buying bread from the nearby baker or vegetables from the local farmers' market became more than a transaction. It became a connection to new people and things that had never even occurred to us before. It strengthened trust while communities became less fragile and more alive with promise, new faces, and opportunity. 

Working Without Walls

Perhaps the deepest shift happened in how we work. In a matter of weeks, boardroom meetings dissolved into video calls on the kitchen table, which became makeshift desks. What began as a temporary fix turned into a revelation: we woke up to find that many jobs didn’t require physical offices at all.

Remote work gave people back countless hours once lost to commuting. It allowed parents to be more present with their children and spouses. It gave young professionals the chance to shape their days differently and often more meaningfully. Some embraced digital nomadism and travelled the world, while others simply enjoyed the joys of having dinner with family every night, with the few extra hours in the day they had now gained. 

Now look, I’m not saying the new system was perfect. We saw instances of inequality in access to technology that was a sobering fact… yet the culture had already shifted. Working remotely started opening new possibilities, and those possibilities proved to be the catalyst for change that will still be shaping the future for a while to come.

Perhaps the most profound migration was an internal one. With everything in flux, people began to ask: What does success really mean?

For some, the answer was to slow down and start noticing the world around them.  For others, it meant leaving high-pressure roles to pursue purpose-driven paths. 

Ambition changed shape and began to include health, time, contribution, and joy. Success was no longer a number in a bank account or a title on a business card; it was about living with agency and on your terms.

For today’s entrepreneurs, these lessons are gold. The pandemic revealed that adaptability matters more than efficiency. That local strength can outlast global fragility, and that people began seeking meaning in their work, and not just a paycheck as a means to an end. 

Impact entrepreneurs are now building systems with these truths in mind. They have begun designing businesses that honour both humans and planet, by building businesses that remain flexible in a current world of uncertainty, ones that thrive on trust and interdependence and ones that promote sustainability and love for the beautiful world we live in. 

Yes. The pandemic was disruptive, painful, and costly. But it also created a shift that can never be undone. After the crash, what remained was not only survival, but discoveries of new places to live, new ways to work, and new ways to measure what matters. 

The migration wasn’t a detour. It was a direction. And it is still unfolding… 

Written by Claire Taylor (for some more catharsis)

Coming in Part Three:

This migration (of people, priorities, and purpose) wasn’t the end of the story. It was the groundwork for something bigger, more sustainable, and better. 

Once people had left behind what no longer served them, the question became: what do we build instead? 

Part Three explores how entrepreneurs, communities, and movements are applying these lessons, not just surviving after the crash but shaping systems designed to last in a new era of working and living.