Rachel Sussman: What a 9,000 year old Spruce Taught Me→

Nautilus:

“The Oldest Living Things project was motivated not by a narrow interest or a traditional scientific question, but by the idea of something called deep time. Deep time is not a precise demarcation in the way that geologic eras and cosmological epochs are. Rather, it’s a framework in which to consider timescales too long for our shallow, physical experience, and too big for our brains to process meaningfully. And why should they be able to? The earliest modern humans had a life expectancy of around 32 years. What evolutionary need would they have had to comprehend what 10,000 years felt like? What I wanted to do was to find or forge something relatable, something to help process and internalize deep time in a meaningful way: to feel expanses of time that we were not designed to feel...

One of my primary goals with this work was to create a little jolt of recognition at the shallowness of human timekeeping and the blink that is a human lifespan. Does our understanding of time have to be tethered to our physiological experience of it? I don’t think so. Deep time is like deep water: We are constantly brought back to the surface, pulled by the wants and needs of the moment. But like exercising any sort of muscle, the more we access deep time, the more easily accessible it becomes, and the more likely we are to engage in long-term thinking. The more we embrace long-term thinking, the more ethical our decision-making becomes. It is not the job of traditional science to interpret and translate its findings. Art, on the other hand, is a great mediator.”

As a 170,000 year old species that until 10,000 years ago lived as hunter-gathers, we under-appreciate the importance of time. Some live for the moment, with little care for two generations out, while others have the curiosity to think long-term. We are lucky to have the latter.

Sense of Place: Map Making→

Elizabeth Preston, writing for CityLab:

Elizabeth Preston

“At best, my mental map of my new home is a few loose archipelagos of landmarks in a sea of question marks. Researchers of cognitive maps would say that mine isn’t very sophisticated. Gary Burnett, who studies interfaces between humans and in-car computers at the University of Nottingham, wrote in 2005 that landmarks are just the first step of building a map in your mind. Routes are the next level of understanding, and above that is “survey” knowledge—a map-like comprehension of the whole area.”

Looking? Found someone you have, eh? 

Placemaking in Indy→

Ken Benfiled, writing 'The coolest urban trail you are likely to see' in his blog:

“Something special is happening in Indianapolis, and it’s transforming neighborhoods. As I wrote in People Habitat, revitalization when done well is almost unparalleled in its ability to boost the “triple bottom line” of sustainability: a healthy environment, a healthy economy, and a healthy and equitable social fabric. The good news, of course, is that, after decades of varying degrees of disinvestment, downtowns and inner cities are coming back, albeit at different paces in different markets and sometimes in new forms that differ from the old. ”

Indyculturaltrail.org

Redevelopment is a natural part of development. Rejoice for those around you who transform our places into the beautiful. 

Placemaking in Paris→

Stephane Kirkland, writing for Project for Public Spaces: 

“As Paris enters the final days of a hard-fought Mayoral race, one thing is clear. The terms of political debate permanently shifted during the administration of outgoing Mayor Bertrand Delanoë, and a remarkable consensus has emerged over environmental concerns. When Delanoë took office 13 years ago, he vowed that automobile interests would no longer dominate the city and he would focus on improving public spaces. And he made good on his promise.

Paris is now a radically different place. Less than half of Parisian households own a car and those who do use them far less than the inhabitants of other cities. People have become attached to the quality of life that urban spaces designed as places, and not as conduits for traffic, allow. To be perceived as intending to take that away would be electoral folly for an aspiring Mayor.”

Pat Guiney

A placemaker must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind. Decide you must, how to serve them best. If good for Paris, your job it is here. Already know you that which you need.

When Nature Speaks, Who Are You Hearing?→

iStockphoto

Adam Frank, writing for NPR:

“I walked through the network of Olmsted-designed parks that thread through Rochester. It was raining lightly but that only made the world — now slowly waking up from winter — that much lovelier. I walked up some hills. I walked down some hills. I passed through a wooded ravine. I crossed over into a 150-year-old cemetery. Then, on the crest of a drumlin lined with Civil War era headstones, it happened: I met the sacred.

I am not a poet and can not come close to evoking the character of the experience in words. It was the mist and the rainfall and the birdsong and the scent of spring to be. It was all that and something more — much more — while also being fundamentally less — empty, poised, waiting.”

Adam captures nature experiences in poetic fashion. You too can live in awe of nature. Perhaps first you must unlearn what you have learned in your studies of a deity. 

Muir and Plato Go for a Stroll→

Evan Edwards, writing at The Center for Humans & Nature Blog:

“But this is all, in a sense, beside the point. I’m pulled back to the reason for which I bent these pages of Muir’s essay in the first place. Somewhere in these hundred or so pages is a very particular passage which, at least in my own impression of the essay, seems to form its essence. Inasmuch as it has remained in my memory over the course of the last few years, the passage reads something like this: “When traveling through Yellowstone, what is of utmost importance is to give oneself time to visit its wonders with appropriate duration.”

Of course, this seems like the height of banality. If we want to really experience something fully, we can’t rush through. The idea isn’t new. The critique of speed, the antediluvian stance against technology, this isn’t what makes up the heart of Muir’s call. The importance of this injunction is clarified in what is (or at least what I remember to be) the illuminating sense of the appeal: “Spend time walking through the park. You can’t really experience the park if you are traveling at forty miles per day.” Again, I haven’t yet found the exact quote. I’m just recalling. For some reason or another, however, the idea has stuck with me in a way that not many have since.”

You can see things clearly, smell the ground, hear the fine sounds of nature if you are traveling too fast. We are built for walking and walking is the best way to connect to the rest of nature.

24 Reasons to Ignore Best Places Lists→

Christie Aschwanden, reporting for The Last Word on Nothing:

“What I’ve learned from living in three countries and more than 20 locations is that there is no perfect place. Believing otherwise prevents the letting go of elsewhere necessary to create a home place where you are— a journey that takes effort and devotion.

Turning place into a consumer item diminishes its essential dimensions...

The thing about those lists is that they attract the kind of people who expect a place to serve them, but this is backwards thinking. The best places are those with a devoted population.”

The best place to live is where you are.

Dancing by the Marsh→

Christopher Reiger, writing for Center for Humans & Nature:

“In order for me to locate myself in a new place, I need to wrap my head around its natural history. That’s my principle “way in.” Unfortunately, after three-and-a-half years living in San Francisco, I still have only a superficial understanding of the ecology, history, and culture of the Bay Area. When I first moved here, I felt unmoored from the mid-Atlantic natural history that I know best. No longer could I casually recognize a species of bird by the way it winged past, and I was flummoxed by the fact that even species familiar to me—like dark-eyed juncos—wear different plumages here. ”

An interesting account of a person's attempt to find a sense of place.