Stories of the Nature of Cities

https://unsplash.com/photos/6WrKKQcEnXk

What follows is a flash fiction story that I wrote for a project called "Stories of the Nature of Cities," with a vision of what cities will look like in the year 2099. The focus of the project is, of course, on transdisciplinary thinking and efforts to make for a more connected and greener city. More about the project can be found on The Nature of Cities website. 

Whether the global pandemic of 2020 casts any doubt on the viability of cities is undoubtedly a concern, but it seems that that is where further innovation can come into play to make cities feel safe to the masses and allow them to continue to thrive. Density, previously a key selling point of cities, is naturally considered less than ideal in the midst of a pandemic. But, one could argue, perhaps it is also this same proximity that has allowed us to build the institutions that we have that have led to the relatively quick rollout of a vaccine. 

Cities are, without a doubt, hubs of innovation. But in the following flash fiction story, I focus on a simpler version of a city. One that is smaller, and based on communal cooperation and mutual care and trust. A community and society that promotes the common good, while maintaining concern for the individual, is one we can all get behind. The fictional story that follows is one that I feel epitomizes the type and quality of life we aim to promote here at Deliberately Aimless. Welcome to the notion of SimpliCity, otherwise known as Peace River.

→Peace River

Diana watched from under her visor as the green leaves fluttered in the breeze above her. She took a spade from the wheelbarrow next to her, relishing the feeling of its wooden handle in her grasp. This tool allowed her to cultivate both her own food as well as an intimate relationship with the natural world, an experience she realized she shouldn’t take for granted. It was only a short while ago that people had little contact with nature; a sizeable portion still didn’t. In humanity’s quest to eliminate hardship and effort, it had unwittingly removed purpose from life. As Diana saw it, many in the mid-century period became shells of their former selves, having no physical concerns, and thereby no connection to their bodies, to nature, to each other.

But things were changing. On the eve of the 22^nd century, there was a movement by a significant portion of the population to re-establish the small town, to leave behind the concrete jungle, the overcrowding, and the desultory life. Many would choose to stay in the still-growing cities, for the convenience; others desired something more: to know Mother Nature.

With this aim in mind, Diana had moved to Peace River, high on the Canadian prairie, a year ago. When she arrived, she hadn’t witnessed a utopia in action; pursuit of utopia had made the megacities what they were. Neither were these remote communities communist. They still operated under capitalist principles, but not the capitalism that you and I know. Currency existed and people held occupations, sure, but interest was not earned on loans and wealth was not created simply by manipulating markets. The towns operated under the not so radical idea put forth by Solomon in Proverbs, that “dishonest money dwindles away, but he who gathers money little by little makes it grow.” In fact, this described much of the outlook of how the town operated as a whole, not just as pertains to commerce. Nature, too, was something to be used little by little, as needed, but not without tender care.

Diana had found employment as a journalist, covering the goings-on in the town of about 7,000. She enjoyed riding her bicycle to her appointments, the global warming of the past century having made the winters of the northern prairies more tolerable. Most of the town’s residents commuted by bicycle, much as the Dutch had used to do before rising seas had forced many of their number into the megacities. Life moved at a slower pace in Peace River, and the residents subsequently found themselves without regular need of automobiles. A train line ran once daily to Edmonton, and a city-subsidized rental facility allowed residents to rent autonomous cars on an as-needed basis.

Digging the nose of the spade into the soil, Diana upturned a small amount and deposited the potato tuber, covering it back over. She trenched a line about thirty feet long, and continued planting about every twelve inches. Finishing, she tossed the spade into the wheelbarrow and pumped some water from the nearby well into her bottle, savoring the fresh taste as she drank it down. Northern Alberta had outlawed the use of pesticides nearly eighty years before, and all cities had moved to grey water systems, to reduce the amount of waste entering streams. In that time, the groundwater tables had begun to recover, in terms of both quality and quantity. The installation of bio-swales and permeable pavement throughout town had also helped with the infiltration of rainwater and snowmelt, intercepting portions of it before it could runoff into the river, where it would become “lost” due to salinity when it entered the sea, until such time that it precipitated over land again.

Which reminded her that she needed to meet Tom back at the house to have him check the pressure in her front room radiator. She walked round to the front just as he was riding up. He leaned his bicycle against her wire fence, and she led him inside. A socialite, Tom explained as he set to work. “I see you have the newer units with the gridded folds to maximize surface area. That helps with efficiency. So what seems to be the problem?”

“It’s been emitting a high-pitched sound when it runs. I’m worried about the pressure since we run recycled water through them these days.”

“Understandable, don’t want to have that sort of mess to clean up. Again, it’s more efficient to run re-used water through, but I understand the concern.” Tom made quick work of it, replacing a fitting and O-ring, and was soon on his way.

“Thanks, what do I owe you?” Diana asked as he headed down the steps.

“Nothing, it’s part of your community fees. The city, which is to say the people, take responsibility for all municipal water services, even into the house. Have a good evening.”

Diana liked Peace River. It was small enough that she could know people and be known. Yet it wasn’t a cult; no one was forcing her to be there. Should she ever desire to return to the hustle and bustle of the megacities, she could. It was just last week she had visited her brother in Calgary. And, in fact, she still held investments in some of the larger companies of the world at large; ties and communications still very much existed to the so-called “outside world.” But at the moment, she found it difficult to envision a scenario in which she would return to that world. The pace of life in Peace River was slower, the people friendlier, her career less stressful, and the town better connected with the lifeblood of humanity, which is to say, nature. Diana had rediscovered the joys of physical nature, better understood her own nature, and felt a peace and connectedness which she knew gave life to her body and to the world.

Difficulties

https://unsplash.com/photos/GRk5T551-80

A poem dealing with the difficulties of life seemed apropos for the moment we find ourselves in. With the Covid-19 pandemic ongoing and worsening in many places, travel limitations and the inability to spend the holiday with family, to work stress and just the general stress of life, sometimes we must ask tough questions and cry out to the Universe for answers. Thus, poetry, perhaps the best and most honest form of crying out when the going gets tough.

Difficulties

A call with difficult news, a struggle ongoing.

Sit with, walk with the person on the other end of the line.

My instinct is to throw that coffee cup bearing the cross and flame,

Smash it to bits on the tile floor.

But I don't.

Life is hard, and cleaning up the fragments would only be harder.

I instead cry out in spirit, in solidarity with the one I've just spoken with,

Asking, pleading to make it easier, better.

Can the cross do that?

The Meaning of Value

The Konza Prairie, Kansas
https://unsplash.com/photos/DS5kYa3PmZo

Value

Value is a complex subject that encompasses several meanings. There is what we value, there are our personal values, and there is the value we place on things, to name but a few. I want to focus on a combination of these.

If it is true that big data is the way of the future, I suspect then that big data will have something to reveal to us about value and the nature of human beings. An image search of the term "value" will, once you have gotten past the infographics about the topic, produce images showing money, watches, cars, and gadgets. Our increasing reliance on big data hints at a notion of value: the more the better. Except when that's not the case. In some instances, it is the opposite, and we assign greater value as rarity increases. It all depends on what is being valued.

Perhaps, for this discussion, we need a definition of value, then. In my view, value stems from three main components: skill, scarcity, and utility.

→Skill

We tend to assign greater value to tasks or accomplishments that require more skill. This seems reasonable enough. Lionel Messi possesses a great deal of skill in soccer. He is subsequently compensated at a very high level: with money, fame, assumed credibility, etc. We take it in stride that possession and practice of such a skill can and should be compensated at a higher level than unskilled positions in the food service, waste management, or hospitality arenas, to name but a few.

But why does his immense skill on the pitch carry greater value than someone who is similarly skilled in a cognitively-demanding field such as dentistry? Each field undoubtedly has a vast array of methods, techniques, and baseline knowledge that must be mastered. To answer that question, we must examine the second component of the value equation.

→Scarcity

Not to harp on the professions of soccer and dentistry, but is mastery of one rarer than mastery of the other? I would argue that the answer is no. Soccer – and other skill-focused professions that place a premium on coordination, muscle memory, or athletic ability – may simply provide a more obvious arena for sussing out the highest levels of mastery than in cognitively demanding fields. So while mastery of soccer may in fact not be rarer than mastery of dentistry, it is easier to determine who is "better" at soccer than at dentistry.

Furthermore, soccer is fun. Dentistry is (generally) not considered to be so, at least not in the same way. People like to watch soccer, broadcasters subsequently pay for rights to show soccer matches to more and more people, advertisers join the fray, fans buy tickets, and the spoils of this vast machine cascade to the best and most popular players and teams. We prefer grand mountains to simple prairies, dramatic waterfalls to meandering streams, and large estates to humble abodes. Soccer is a grand mountain. Dentistry – and similar cognitively demanding fields – are simple prairies, associated with the day to day, and therefore, unremarkable. More on this later.

→Utility

Utility is where a wrench is thrown into the equation. It is doubtful that, if asked to rank the top one hundred most useful professions, any two people from a reasonable sample size would produce a list of the exact same order. Even producing agreement ranking the top ten most useful professions would be difficult. 

However, we can reasonably hazard a guess that soccer would not be on that list, and dentistry would be. Dentistry has a much more direct, practical application to day to day life. It is necessary; soccer is not. Most jobs that we everyday people do are necessary. They fill a need to keep the world moving. Things like soccer – sports, in general – and other performance professions, are entertainment. They provide a diversion from the tedium of everyday life. In this sense, those everyday professions are far more valuable than something like soccer, even if that's not summarily represented by compensation.

The Disconnect

So what is missing from our equation? Is it impressiveness? Is it desirability of the job or action being performed? Remarkability? Perhaps it's this last one, remarkability. Remember the mountains and prairies comparison? In reality, neither mountains nor prairies are more unique or rare than the other. But mountains are usually looked upon with more awe than prairies because of their remarkability. 

Humans live in a predominantly horizontal world, and so we are more attuned to something in the vertical plain. It catches our attention. The day to day jobs that you and I work are in the horizontal; jobs of athletes and entertainers are in the vertical. This seems to be a differentiating factor in determining subsequent compensation and interest. This may not be entirely consistent with the other factors influencing value, but it is understandable, dissectable.

Worth

Sometimes, however, we conflate value with worth, which is a problem. The vertical is no more "worthy" than the horizontal, any more than the mountain is more worthy than the prairie. This is why I chose a picture of the Konza Prairie in Kansas as the header of this post. Kansas (my home state) is often the subject of dismissal and disdain, usually regarding its lack of vertical features. But this in no way makes it "less than." 

In a similar vein, you are of no less worth than someone else simply because you earn less or because the world values their dreams more than yours in a monetary sense. As complex as the notion of value can be, worth is even more so. Do not conflate the two, for we are all of equal worth, and, simultaneously, "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23 NKJV). Develop the components of value to your benefit and as you are able, but remember that we are all equal in a cosmic lens, even if that can be a difficult thought to maintain in the day to day.

The Ancient Paths

https://unsplash.com/photos/lWAzWOLod5g

This is what the LORD says: "Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, 'We will not walk in it.'" 

Jeremiah 6:16 (NKJV)

How often we stumble. And I'm not even speaking in a strictly Biblical sense. We let our friends down. We do not give our family the time they deserve. We don't give an honest effort in our pursuits. We prioritize money over time, and find when it's all over, it was the wrong choice. We seek things that will not fulfill us. 

We distract and drown ourselves in technology and plans to the extent that if we came to a crossroads in life, we might not even be aware of it. We would blaze on past, never stopping to consider that there is an ancient path, let alone what it might hold. And it is all to our detriment. It is our loss.

It seems that we have forgotten how to be present, how to take it all in. Life can be simple. We simply choose not to allow it to be. God promises rest to us if we will only walk in these ancient paths. But we must ask. We must stand still. We must prioritize listening over speaking, for only then will we find direction.

Perhaps we don't even know what the ancient path would look like. Perhaps we are just aimless, though not deliberately so in this instance. Is an ancient path a craggy, twisted trail through the woods? Is it found in making a literal pilgrimage along a trail, such as the Camino de Santiago? Or is it more a matter of finding our purpose in life? Is it found by fulfilling some nebulous but unexplained "destiny"? Or is it simply listening to that still small voice that guides our thoughts and actions, if only we would heed its call.

Probably it's some combination of the above. It undoubtedly looks different to each person. What I suspect each ancient path has in common, though, is a commitment to truth. But what truth, exactly?

There are certain near-universal truths found among humanity. In general, most cultures hold that one human being should not kill another. Humanity's basic needs of water, food, and shelter do not vary across different groups. Studies have found that facial expressions are recognizable and understandable across cultures. We all collectively use languages to communicate, call one another by some identifying name, develop a system of management or governance, and engage in various forms of art.

Further, research shows that while values vary from individual to individual, relative prioritization of values within and across cultures displays a remarkable level of agreement. For instance, most cultures give "honesty and other prosocial values" a high degree of importance. Meanwhile, "wealth and other power values" are given a lower degree of importance. These findings, while remarkable in demonstrating the agreement across cultures, are what we might better call common sense. Or values that your grandparents would teach you out of the wisdom of their age. 

It goes back to the fundamental notion that at the end of our lives, we tend to think back to the good times shared with others rather than sit and count our money or think of the perceived power that we used to have. We instead ruminate on what it means to be human. What it means to have lived a good life. A life full of love and gratitude and relationships. That is what is to be found on the ancient paths. And we all receive the call to walk in them, to find rest. The question is, will we?

La Sal Love

 

La Sal Mountains, Utah

I took this photo on my first visit to Arches National Park in the deserts of Utah. The clouds scattered just so, leaving their shadows to dot the desert floor. The peaks of the La Sal Mountains jut above the stark tree line to face the onslaught of sunlight, wind, rain, and snow that will inevitably batter them through the seasons.

Words

Majestic; textured; stark; vivid; rugged; beckoning

Haiku

Sunlit desert where

Clouds swarm, sage dots, sand spreads forth;

Mountains capped, not bowed.

On The Sea Wolf and Virtue

https://london.sonoma.edu/

The Author

Jack London is another favorite here at Deliberately Aimless. The Call of the Wild is among my favorite books, and others of London’s aren’t far behind. After having read The Sea Wolf, I was not disappointed, and upon completion it landed itself in perhaps the upper ten percent of books that I have read.

London’s uncanny ability to write powerful dialogue is, in many respects, unmatched, and is on full display in The Sea Wolf. This ability is never more clear than in another of his works, The Iron Heel, in which the characters deliver forceful, compelling, and, an oft overlooked point, believable diatribes. In The Iron Heel, we find the main character, Ernest Everhard, facing a consistent onslaught from the ruling class, and constantly having to defend his socialist point of view. He does this via quite convincing arguments, lent additional beauty and fluidity the more that London’s own socialist ideals show through. While one may have qualms with the viewpoint put forth by the character Everhard, the reader is nevertheless forced to admit that London consistently imbues his characters with a ferocity and self-assurance driven home by their convincing words.

I use the illustration of The Iron Heel not to belabor the point but because I found The Sea Wolf to be quite its equal. I also found myself disagreeing with certain viewpoints of characters, though this certainly did not take away from the joy of getting lost in their dialogue. 

The Plot

In The Sea Wolf, we meet our titular character and antagonist, Wolf Larsen, after he picks up our protagonist, Mr. Van Weyden, from a shipwreck in the crossing of San Francisco Bay. We are immediately given insight into Larsen’s character by his refusal to take Van Weydon, or “Hump,” as Larsen and the crew take to calling him, back to shore or to let him board a passing vessel. It seems that Hump has been forcibly added to the crew of “The Ghost,” a seal-hunting vessel bound for the north Pacific, under the captainship of a very physically and mentally imposing Larsen. 

I don’t want to give anything away as far as the core plot is concerned, and would heartily recommend you read The Sea Wolf, but I do want to dissect both Larsen’s and Hump’s moral fortitude, character, virtue, whatever you wish to call it. Larsen finds himself intrigued by Hump, a man who hails from the softer side of society and who has made a career as a writer. Larsen, though coarse and brutal, is self-taught in matters of philosophy and literature and soon begins engaging in debates about the meaning of life with Hump.

Larsen is of the opinion that this life is all that we get; there is nothing to follow. He argues, essentially, that there is no soul in the human make up, but rather that we are all driven by a desire to fulfill our own needs and wants, regardless of what that means for our fellow man. Hump argues against this, though it is questionable whether Larsen ever gives serious consideration to an alternative viewpoint, such is the state of his ego. While I disagree with Larsen’s view, I do want to examine more closely one of his and Hump’s conversations.

The Rubaiyat

In said conversation, Hump references The Rubaiyat, an eleventh or twelfth century poem by Omar Khayyam, seeing that it aligns with Larsen’s view of the finality of this life. Larsen, it turns out, is unfamiliar with said work. 

So let's examine some background. The Rubaiyat is a poem that was originally written in Persian, but has since been translated by several different scholars through the centuries. Most translations result in a 101 verse poem on the meaning of existence, with four lines per verse. In it, Khayyam explains his view that because we are given this life only, we should essentially maximize our pleasure while on the earth, which he proposes to do by drinking more wine. In essence, Khayyam is arguing for Hedonism. As an admirer of the Stoic philosophy, I have obvious qualms with his contention that the highest aim is to fulfill one’s desires. However, I take more issue with Khayyam's claim of the finality of this life, though he does illustrate his point with some beautiful verse, one of which I have reproduced below.

When You and I behind the Veil are past,

Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,

Which of our Coming and Departure heeds

As the Sea’s self should heed a pebble-cast.

Verse XLVII

I chose this particular verse both because of its reference to the sea and because I agree with it, at least in part. I admire the sense of humility that it conveys, its understanding that when we have finished this life we quite possibly will be remembered no more, except by a vanishingly small number of people. It lends a certain grounded perspective to life and speaks to our inherent limitations in understanding. I don’t, however, agree with Khayyam’s (and subsequently Larsen’s) conclusion, in both the above verse and the poem at large, that essentially all is for naught, that life ends with the grave, and therefore we should indulge ourselves. Despite this, I did enjoy the poem itself, beautifully written as it is.

The Characters

To bring it back to the book, once Hump fills him in on The Rubaiyat, Larsen immediately shows an affinity for the viewpoint espoused in it. Larsen’s self-assurance is fiery, and again, it is unclear throughout whether he ever softens or questions his stance on the matter. This certainly makes for a compelling character, though, in that he remains a bit of a mystery, it is difficult to divine his motives, and therefore he is imminently unpredictable. 

Hump is a different matter entirely. At first timid and downright shocked by the behavior he witnesses not only from Larsen, but from the sealing crew at large, it takes him a while to find his sea legs, as it were. However frustrating he may find them to be, Hump gains a good deal from both his physical hardening aboard the ship as a mate as well as his sporadic rounds of mental sparring with Larsen.

In his own words (Van Weyden/Hump is the narrator), when speaking of a grievance with the cook aboard, Hump says, “Under all his cowardice there was a courage of cowardice, like mine, that would impel him to do the very thing his whole nature protested against doing and was afraid of doing.” This statement perfectly encapsulates the transformation that Hump must undergo throughout the narrative. Hump must overcome the “long years of bookish silence [which] had made me inattentive and unprepared.” Thrust into a vicious and violent world wholly unprepared, he quickly realizes that he must come to truly understand his own nature if he is ever to master his fears made manifest in the person of Wolf Larsen. 

There are some other twists and several other characters of note that I have intentionally omitted from my review, including a budding romance and a struggle for survival, all in an effort to not take away from the enjoyment of the story. I heartily recommend reading The Sea Wolf to any and all hoping to learn a little something about human nature and, possibly, about themselves.

A Primer on Biomimicry

http://www.drawingsofleonardo.org/

If we are so out of balance with nature, how can we hope to get back into balance? There is, of course, no single answer, but there are places from which to start. Biomimicry is one of them.

For those unfamiliar, let us start with a definition. Biomimicry seeks to mimic the design of biology to solve problems. It attempts to imitate nature's solutions to common issues, whether of transportation, water storage, physical movement, etc. 

Some simple, common biomimicry solutions are already in widespread use and have been for some time. These come to us from the civil engineering industry, where engineers have long used berms, erosion-resistant plants, and boulders to slow the flow of water and limit erosion. 

We see in nature how scree and rocks on a mountainside stabilize the slope and limit erosion, and we apply this principle to slow the flow of runoff from rainstorms in open channels and culvert outlets. Hardy native grasses serve not only as food sources for ungulates, but as drought-resistant coverage that protects the land, as those who lived through the Dust Bowl found out first hand. Engineers use similar hardy grasses to stabilize slopes and prevent erosion from both wind and water.

While not commonly considered in this manner, we also use a form of biomimicry in our systems of motion. Consider the repetitive vertical motion of pistons in an engine or the repetitive circular motion of bicycle pedals. These repetitive motions used to propel us forward are reminiscent of the motions of a hummingbird's wings, which generate lift in both the forward and reverse motions. Similarly, consider how we use specialized shoes that clip to the pedals of a bicycle in order to mimic this principle and generate power with both the upward and downward movement of the leg. 

We also mimic the flight produced by larger birds' wings in our design of airplanes, particularly those large predatory species like hawks that make use of their speed and the leading edge of their wing to generate and maintain lift. The very same happens as air flows across the rounded leading edge of a fast-moving airplane wing. This works for these larger birds, and consequently for airplanes, because of their thicker and more robust wings as compared to those of a hummingbird. It allows for a more efficient motion which requires less energy to maintain. 

But there is room for improvement. Our cars and planes operate, for the most part, by burning fossil fuels for their energy source, rather than the biological conversions of energy that inherently are used by birds for flight. Our model is unsustainable. Recent inroads have been made in the field of electric aircraft, however. And we are getting more efficient at capturing the sun's readily available energy and converting it to a usable form, as trees and plants do to sustain their very existence. 

As is often the case in the doings of humanity, economics plays a role in our slowness to move toward sometimes obvious, but potentially more difficult, solutions. Progress is being made in reducing the cost of solutions such as solar energy and making our systems for accessing and storing these readily available energy sources more efficient. Due to advances in technology, subsequent reduced costs, and adequate investment, the world's use of solar energy grew by 300 times between 2000 and 2019. Other renewables also saw tremendous growth, driven both by economics and necessity as awareness of the current climate situation increases.

Ample subsidies are provided to the fossil fuel industry, and the cost of us driving our cars is even subsidized by the subsequently lowered fuel prices that we see at the pump: it becomes a positive feedback loop that promotes further use of our inefficient vehicles. In turn, this feedback loop leads to negative outcomes beyond climate issues, including degraded health due to poor air quality. 

We could spur further innovation by providing subsidies of similar magnitude to the renewable energy industry. And we must be patient in this process, as we also must allow adequate time and investment for our energy grid to be updated and adjust to storing and distributing energy from renewable sources. Priorities are shifting, but the overall investment in renewable energy sources still lags that of fossil fuels, especially when considered in the historical aggregate. Investment in renewables is an investment in biomimicry, in powering our society with the methods and materials that nature has amply supplied. 

Biomimicry is inherently sustainable. And the applications of biomimicry principles are limitless: from studying nature for solutions to prosthetic limbs, to dealing with the waste of food due to spoilage, to addressing energy needs, to developing innovative ways to collect and provide clean water for a more equitable world. There is no limit to what we can learn from nature. And we learn best when we listen and observe. So let's observe, and start putting to use what we've learned.

Quiet, or The Art of Listening

https://unsplash.com/photos/e4ING8JYKgI

Listen. Do you hear it? No, no, sit still and really listen. 

What sounds surround you? The chirping of a bird. Conversation at the table next to yours. The sound of an air conditioner or heater running. The snow falling light upon the ground. The voice of the still small voice inside your head. Someone telling you about their day, sharing their experience with you. Perhaps it's some combination of all of these. Or perhaps it's nothing at all, and you can bathe in the silence.

It's a topic that's been addressed so often that it has become a trope, but still, it's worth discussing. And better still, it's a perspective worth listening to. It's a topic dear to me, perhaps because of a propensity for silence that one might attribute to my introverted nature. 

Regardless, examples of the importance of prioritizing listening abound, especially in a source as veritable as the Bible. In James 1:19-20 (NKVJ) we find: 

"So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath; for the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God."

First, James says that we must be "swift to hear, slow to speak..." James calls upon his "beloved brethren" to behave in this manner. We can surmise that James wished only the best for those close to him, and therefore, we can surmise this to be advice supplied lovingly to induce a positive outcome.

And we should look to James as a model on this topic, as a brother of Jesus who at one point did not believe in Him (John 7:5). Obviously James listened to the witness of his brother, for he went on to be a devoted follower and martyr for the cause. As Proverbs 11:14 (NKJV) states:

"Where there is no counsel, the people fall;

But in the multitude of counselors there is safety."

We can presume that part of what brought James to belief, in spite of doubts or differing opinions he may have held, was the steady counsel of his brother, Jesus. Listening can indeed do wonders.

 

Even devoid of specific examples, ask yourself whether it is better to be quick to hear and slow to speak, and you will intuitively feel it to be true. When we listen, we open ourselves up to hearing and experiencing truth, novel perspectives, and stories of others, all of which can help us to better navigate this world.

Notice also how James progresses from quickness of speech to wrath. It is unclear whether this is intended as a progression of states of being, but it seems a fair way to interpret it. The implication is that speech is closer to wrath than is the act of listening. When we are quick to speak, we risk drowning out the calming influence of measured thought, silence, and quiet, and can work ourselves into a fury. 

When we do not listen, but only speak, we do not lend credence to the experience or perspective of others. Being adamant of speech insists that what you have to say is of more value and importance that what someone else might contribute. In this way, speech casts judgement; it can lead to wrath. If we are not careful, an insistence on our own perspective as inherently more worthy can even indicate the belief that you as a person are more valuable than others, not just your speech. This is dangerous, for once these feelings begin, it is difficult to learn from others as instincts lead us to become defensive.

Now I'm not advocating that you should never speak; that is not at all my intent. I am asking merely that we all learn to better weigh the benefits of speaking versus listening. Let's each examine the ratio at which we practice speech and silence. When we listen to each other, we can learn much and everyone can be lifted up. Take if from one of America's classic authors, Ernest Hemingway: 

"When people talk, listen completely...Most people never listen."

Thus, in listening intently, we set ourselves apart from the crowd. We mark ourselves as different. And we make for good friends. As Sherlock Holmes remarks to Dr. Watson in one of his sleuthing adventures:

 "You have a grand gift of silence, Watson...It makes you quite invaluable as a companion."

Sometimes all that we need is for someone else to listen. In listening, we share in others' triumphs, joys, fears, irritations, concerns, and lives. We allow each other to ask for advice, to reason through problems aloud, and to generally make sense of this complex world with each other. As Sherlock continues from the quote above:

"'Pon my word, it is a great thing for me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not over-pleasant."

The power of listening cannot be overstated. Taking the time to listen allows others to feel heard. It is an act of empathy, it is a humane act, it is an act of love to listen to another. For in listening, what we are really doing is showing respect to a fellow human being. We become not just participants in, but observers of, the world around us.

A Primer on Climate

https://unsplash.com/photos/eA32JIBsSu8

How at odds are we with nature? What a question to ask. Quite. And bad things happen when we get out of balance with nature. 

The Dust Bowl. A decade of repeated drought events. Poor soil management. Non-existent crop rotation. The ripping up of sod on a scale unmatched. We simply asked more than the land could give, year after year, and the land lashed out. And recent research has shown that current elevated carbon dioxide levels make an occurrence like the Dust Bowl twice as likely.

Deforestation. The World Bank estimates that roughly 500,000 square miles of forest were lost between 1990 and 2016. For comparison, that's about 90% the size of Alaska. Wow. And harvested trees release stored carbon into the atmosphere, exacerbating the current runaway atmospheric carbon content issue.

Rising sea levels. According to satellite data, sea level in 2014 was 2.6 inches above the 1993 average, the earliest comprehensive satellite data that we have. Yes, 2.6 inches seems small to me, too. So let's examine that in further detail.

Picture an acre. Have it in your mind? One acre is 43,560 square feet. Yes, I have that number memorized from my days in engineering school. Still, it seems abstract, so let's zoom in. 

For those of you who live in suburban America, your house likely sits on one-fifth of an acre, give or take. So five of the plots of land that your house sits on make an acre. Good. Now rainfall, in both hydrology and agriculture, is often measured in acre-feet. One acre-foot refers to one foot of water depth that covers an entire acre. 

Seawater accounts for approximately 139 million square miles of the earth's surface. There are 640 acres in a square mile, so that makes for 88.96 billion acres of seawater on the earth's surface. A rise of 2.6 inches across this surface therefore equates to 19.27 billion acre-feet of water. Perhaps that number sounds a bit larger than 2.6 inches and more accurately conveys the scale of what is happening.

Furthermore, as the planet continues to warm, sea levels will continue to rise due to thermal expansion of the ocean itself. And because of climate change, glaciers and polar ice caps continue to melt at an increasing rate, driving levels even higher. This is bad news for communities in low-lying areas, including the Seychelles Islands, the Chesapeake Bay region of Virginia and Maryland, the Netherlands, and countless others. And we spend billions of dollars desperately fighting to keep the water at bay rather than changing our energy needs and usage.

Water scarcity. Growing populations, increasing urbanization, and greater industrial use of water further stress the availability of this critical resource. While total water content on the planet remains relatively stable over time, usable and accessible water does not. As we draw more water out of aquifers and reservoirs and drink it, flush it, irrigate fields with it and pump it full of nitrogen, and send it on down the river to the ocean, it ultimately becomes brackish seawater. We can't use saline water for much, short of costly desalination. And we are sending water to the ocean at a faster rate than it is replenished over the landscape as freshwater via precipitation.

https://legacy.lib.utexas.edu/maps/world_maps/water_scarcity_2025.jpg

And before you respond that it's rained quite a bit recently where you live, or conversely, that your region is in a severe drought, let me stress that the overall effect of climate change is to produce greater extremes. Lengthier droughts, stronger hurricanes, more intense rainfall and storms, a prolonged wildfire season, etc. And all of this can be tied directly back to human activity.

The above examples are just a sampling of the current state of the Earth's climate. It's a complex problem. A wicked problem, in fact. We seek economic growth, greater access to food, shelter, and water for all, improved quality of life; all good things. But we are finding it difficult to reconcile the manner in which we go about it with negative long-term effects on the Earth. Let's be clear, though; the Earth will be fine. It is our own position that we make more precarious as we march ever forward in the pursuit of growth and advancement. We scar the world, time and again, and continue to ask it for more. History has shown us that there comes a time when the Earth lashes out.

Deep Roots Are Not Reached by the Frost

https://unsplash.com/photos/jFCViYFYcus

"Deep roots are not reached by the frost."

We encounter another quote from Tolkien. Yes, Tolkien is a favorite here at Deliberately Aimless. In fact, this quote is drawn from the same poem as the one regarding wanderers. It seemed a natural follow-on, but also worth a deeper dive, as it were.

What do you think of when you hear the word roots? Trees, no doubt. Your hometown and your family, perhaps. A vague sense of where you "came from." The band from Philadelphia. Alright, maybe only a few thought of that last one.

Whatever the case, though, the term roots generally refers to some sense of groundedness, of being on a firm foundation. And the goal is to build upon a foundation that cannot be shaken. The focus is always, therefore, on the structure built upon the foundation, and never on the foundation itself. We like to admire the architecture – the soaring rooftops, the walls of glass, the intricate façades – and appreciate the foundation only insomuch as it prevents these architectural elements from crashing down, whether due to wind or seismic or snow loads. 

You see, the foundation enables the construction of what we term success. The visible building is the success. Our public lives are the successes – or failures. What matters in our world is that which can be seen. We do not give thought to that which the visible is built upon – unless it fails.

We recognize that things can come crashing down around us, but rarely do we consider that something can also be upended. The soil beneath the foundation can fail. The foundation itself can fail through tension, compression, shear stresses. Frost can grab hold of the foundation and heave it upward. Yes, even deep foundations – drilled piers, driven piles, etc. – can be reached by frost. 

It's an imperfect metaphor to describe the spiritual in terms of the physical, but it is nevertheless enlightening. Foundations fail – humans fail – because we fight against nature. We seek to build taller structures  in more remote and arduous environments. We seek greater status and wealth. Collectively, we build cities of millions of people in deserts that cannot support them and then transport water to them unsustainably via aqueducts and pipelines (Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Phoenix). We build upon improper foundations and ignore them, until they fail.

Conversely, trees (and other such plants that grow literal roots), do not battle nature. They are nature and are simultaneously one with nature. Roots form a symbiotic system with bacteria in the surrounding soil to aid in the growth of other organisms. Groupings of quaking aspen trees sharing a single root system, known as clones, can grow to cover up to 100 acres of area and live, in one case, for an estimated 80,000 years. The hardy mesquite tree  of the southwest can grow a taproot to depths of almost 200 feet, and its root system can regenerate and keep growing even if the tree above is killed. A firm foundation, indeed.

It is not that trees cannot be uprooted or toppled that makes them remarkable – for they surely can be brought down. It's that they are true to their nature in their growth. One might even say that they are fulfilling their purpose. With few exceptions, a tree builds that which it can support. It seeks that which nourishes it: the sun. It does not grow lofty in order to garner praise. In drought years, its growth contracts and slows as needed. In the cold season, a tree's above ground growth may go dormant, but its root growth can continue on, buffered as it is from the frost via the soil and snowpack. An expansive root system gives a tree its resilience. May we learn to be so resilient.

It stands to reason that this is what Tolkien meant by deep roots not being reached by the frost. In a sense, even the deepest of roots are reached by calamities. There is no way to prevent the frost from occurring, even to depths not previously imagined. But when calamities befall us, when the hard frost comes, we do not utterly fail if we have made our roots resilient. And we make ourselves resilient by being true to our nature, by living with purpose.

On Tolkien, or The Nature of Wandering

"Not all those who wander are lost."

I can practically hear it in Gandalf's voice, though this particular quote did not find its way into the movie adaptations. It's a wonderful phrase from the venerable Mr. Tolkien, though it perhaps has been diminished in our day and age, repeated ad nauseam as it has been on coffee mugs, t-shirts, satchels, bags, and so forth. But don't let its ubiquity diminish its meaning.

From the man who wrote the much beloved The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, he should know a thing or two about wandering, even if by many accounts he rarely ventured far from his Oxford residence in his elder years. His stories are by their very nature about wandering. In The Hobbit, we follow Bilbo and a band of dwarves as they wander their way to the Lonely Mountain to reclaim that which was lost – taken, rather, by Smaug the dragon. In The Lord of the Rings, we follow Frodo and Sam as they venture forth with the One Ring on their wandering way to Mount Doom, a task that they believe themselves entirely unfit for.

Wandering, perhaps, does not convey the right meaning here. Or, at least, it is misunderstood. These characters were, more accurately, seeking, which is to say that they were wandering only insofar as they did not always know precisely where they were going. But they did not lack for purpose. 

Bilbo's task as the burglar may have been unclear to him at times, when he was wandering through the forests of Mirkwood or riddling with Gollum in the depths of the Misty Mountains; but his purpose was quite clear: to help the dwarves reclaim their homeland, a rather noble purpose. In a similar vein, Frodo (and Sam) may have wished to not have the burden of the ring, losing their way often and being caught up in a quest far greater than themselves; but that added weight is precisely what gave their journey purpose. Without the task of destroying the ring, they would have had no greater purpose and would have been reduced to mere wanderers.

And so it is with life, though the difference may not always be as obvious as in literature. Many of us appear to be wanderers and hopelessly lost, when we are, in fact, seeking. Someone fresh out of college, dispirited in their job search and wondering – not for the first time – whether they chose the right major, takes a job at the local golf course until they can find the opportunity they are looking for. Are they lost? Or merely seeking? The answer is not always clear. 

To some extent, nearly all of us seem to be seeking in our own imperfect ways. It's just that one man's seeking appears to another as idleness. And, conversely, one man's seeking appears to the other as desperation. Some wish to keep up with the Joneses, while others have different aims. Neither is wrong. Too often we believe that there is a narrow path to success which must be adhered to, without acknowledging that success looks different to everyone. Different paths cannot simply be written off as wandering.

Some of us are indeed lost, but not all of us. And that does not mean that lost wanderers, once lost, cannot again be found. At times, one must go with the current. At others, one must take the bull by the horns. But either of these actions will take time, and we must do our utmost to be patient along the way. And, as Tolkien's characters demonstrate, the purposes we unearth are rarely focused solely upon ourselves. Sometimes our purpose is to be found by looking to a higher power (or trusting to fate, as some would have it), and striving to be deliberate in our actions but aimless in our direction, so that we may better discern where we are being led. And so we wander, but are not lost. We are deliberately aimless.