It's been a year since starting Prismatic Planet and posting my first Human Nature blog. When I wrote that, I mentioned that I wanted to use this site to learn more about the planet and share that knowledge with you. I also mentioned that in addition to researching and writing for this website, I was also an active environmental volunteer. That's still the case today, and I realize I haven't talked much about it here. Which is kind of odd since one of the best ways I engage with something I want to learn more about is to actively do that thing. I imagine such is the case for a good number of people out there.
So, I want to take this one-year anniversary of Human Nature to do just that. I want to share with you what I, a human looking to help and learn, have benefited from by volunteering for the environment. Since volunteering is not limited to work for the planet, my points here won't be specific to environmental volunteer work, though I may cite my experiences. Here's hoping by the end of this, you'll feel empowered to get out there and help, both for a cause you believe in and for your own personal growth. Let's dive in!
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Humans are a complex thing. We are among the few species on the planet capable of thinking outside ourselves, but are notoriously bad at realizing we never do this correctly. That isn't to say humans aren't doing their best to understand others, but we tend to attempt this phenomenon by inserting ourselves into the other's place. In theory, this allows us to consider how the other person is thinking and feeling. In reality, we're only gaining an understanding of our own reactions to what that person is going through. We're, simply put, not that other person.
Humans have also tried this tactic when confronted with complex topics. As a species, despite our locations across the world, humans have created constructs to better understand this planet. More often than not, we try to bridge that understanding by turning those complexities into people, personifying the mysterious or ambivalent. Among those complexities are things like water, war, fertility, and, you guessed it, the Earth itself! Let's dive in!
When we're in school, we learn about a fair number of things. Things that are preparing us for the world we live in today. Or at least that's what the goal is supposed to be. We learn about math, science, language (region-specific), history (less obviously region-specific), and arts. These classes help us interface with the abstractions we've built on the world as we know it. Instead of discovering mathematic principle, we learn foundations built over time. Instead of analyzing the Earth and our universe, we learn how others before us did just that so we can, in time, build on that knowledge.
We also spend a bit of time learning how to interface with the constructs we've built around the world. In addition to verbal and written literacy, we have classes for technical and digitally social literacy. As we move the needle further down the path of humanity's growth, this will continue to change the things we learn about. As this happens, we should be aware that some things humanity abstracts are simply things that make other constructs we've built easier to understand. The internet was once a complex environment that only governments and college students had ready access to, and the devices we used to interface with that environment were considered too complex to be of much use to the typical human. But humans move fast, and as that thought was quickly outdated, we develop skills and abstractions to make this truly complex idea of a digitally connected planet available, quite literally, in the palm of your hand. However, when the abstractions we build are around our planet, we need to be aware of that. Of the many things humans have built, some of those conveniences, in the form of abstractions, come with a few costs. One of those costs is a very real drain on our planet. Another is harder to see, but is felt over time: a lack of literacy. The cost here is knowledge. This is where environmental education can help.
When we think about science, we tend to go straight to imagining doctorate-level people in long white lab coats. Maybe throw a pair of glasses on for good measure. In reality, even those professional scientists don't necessarily fit that bill. Further, not all science is performed by professionals. That's right, there is nothing standing between you and science other than finding time, motivation, and attention to detail. Let's take a look at how us citizens of the planet can participate in science!
While researching our page on wetlands, we learned a bit more about what goes into managing complex ecosystems. Turns out, more than scientists are involved in helping the environment, and more than the volunteers and citizen scientists who help out with the work we normally think about. One of those roles that surprised us (but really makes a ton of sense) given their cross section of work between human facility and natural function.
That role is the landscape architect.
Sometimes topics for these blogs are a bit more impulsive. I don't think I was planning on writing about parks and urban natural areas, but as I was on a run this week, I noticed that my local park had a sign up advertising some improvements to the area coming soon. I started to wonder: how do decisions like this get made and how did we get to the park as we know it today?
Maybe not the most exciting introduction to a topic, but a part of modern human society is our urban lifestyle. How we, as a community, try to incorporate nature into these spaces is important to our understanding of and connection with nature. Honestly, it's a prime topic for this series!
Let's dive in!
The Earth is a fascinating place. I think most people would agree with that, especially those of us lucky enough to be living on it. Part of what makes it so fascinating is that it's able to support life like us. And a facet of that is the work that the Earth constantly does to keep supporting that life. We've discussed a few of these systems that the Earth maintains in the form of biogeochemical cycles, but there is much more to this planet than those cycles. An impossibly large amount more really.
Let's dive in! Places in Human Nature is a sub-series of Human Nature that focuses on places that exemplify how humans and nature can help each other thrive. There are so many examples, big and small, of how humanity can aid and give back to the planet, and this hopes to shine some light on those places. New Zealand is a beautiful place. While we were visiting earlier this year, we traveled to a number of wonderful areas that showcased just how incredible and diverse the landscape on the islands are. Of course, given only a little over a week to explore, we were bound to miss some things. It was only on the flight back home when I was sifting through documentaries that I found one such place I wish we could go back to visit. That place, and the topic here, is Hinewai Reserve. April marks the date for two days dedicated to the Earth that I'm aware of: Earth Day and Arbor Day. Despite knowing of these days and treating them as days of celebration for the planet, I realized that I'd never looked into their origins before. The only recollection I'd had was for Arbor Day, since I know the first US celebration of the day was founded by the family that started my local arboretum. I figured this would be a good opportunity to look into these origins and maybe learn a bit about how humans celebrated the Earth in the past by way of reserving days of the year for them. I was a little surprised by the results.
When you close your eyes and think of nature, what do you see? When I was younger, I would see lush green forests, bounding hilly grasslands, snow-capped mountaintops, fields of wildflowers, and cascading waterfalls pouring into crystal-clear lakes. Birds flutter around, singing their songs as deer browse the grass. Bears asleep in their dens and butterflies pollinating the vast flowerscape. Fishes blub and jump carelessly in their ponds, splashing droplets of water that sparkle in the mid-morning sunlight. Pristine is a word I would often use. But why would I use it? Pristine is a loaded word when it comes to nature. On its own, pristine is a state of originality. Of being untouched. It is what would be if nothing interacted with it, whatever it may be. When it comes to nature, what, exactly, didn't touch it? What makes nature pristine? If you're going by our terms today, this would refer to a time before man, specifically European settlers. When we think of "what nature was before" it is asked from the perspective of the one asking the question. As with most modern questions and philosophy, this revolves around old white folks. What did nature look like before Europeans arrived. This perspective dominated (and frankly still dominates) our concept of an untouched nature. Personally, I think this is off. It's kind of full of holes. And it severely underestimates the connectedness humans have always shared with nature. In short, this perspective treats indigenous peoples as "not as human" as the people who came to their home. This is often cited as "they were a part of nature rather than a visitor to nature" framing the European settlers as "outside of nature." What's weirdest to me is that this also misses that Europeans are also indigenous to their homes, but Europe apparently isn't pristine, or can't be because history is written there. We can't compare Europe to a time prior to European history because it starts there. But everywhere else, yeah, that can be pristine. Now, I won't suggest colonization didn't end up fundamentally changing both the surrounding environment and communities. It still does today. But that's a choice. A way humans interact with the Earth. We don't get to choose that we're outside of the systems that govern the planet unless we leave the planet. Until then, we're always a part of nature. Our actions are held within, not beside. One example I'll be covering in an upcoming page is the prairies of the midwestern United States. Prior to European settlement, there were humans interacting with the land. In fact, they used it to their advantage in ways other animals couldn't. In doing so, they developed an ecosystem unique to their interactions: the tallgrass prairie. This environment is one maintained by recurring controlled fires. It clears out plants that are not resilient to fire, leaving tolerant old growth, and giving space for tolerant new growth to come in. This new growth is particularly enticing for native wildlife, like buffalo, who would cycle their grazing areas for easier food. The indigenous peoples did this purposefully as a means to use the land to their advantage. And that isn't to say this was always done with sustainability in mind. It's generally hypothesized that wildlife herds were often in low, controlled populations due to the success of this style of hunting. We often think this wasn't the case because by the time European settlers made it this far west, they were documenting massive numbers of native wildlife, seeming that indigenous peoples didn't hunt that much. In reality, by the time the settlers made it this far, the disease they brought to North America had already wiped out a massive chunk of indigenous populations, obviously resulting is less hunting. Those who wrote the history couldn't see what it was actually like because side effects of their arrival impacted the norm to a point where they couldn't see it. What the settlers saw as "pristine" was not true pristine since it was already impacted by their arrival. Even if that were avoided, the indigenous peoples were modifying the land from its pristine state. We have two layers of human touch, and we didn't get to accurately document even the one where indigenous peoples are considered a part of the untouched nature. It's a silly goal in hindsight. Since we're fresh from a trip to New Zealand, those islands are an interesting example too. The first settlers of New Zealand were the Maori people, who named it Aotearoa or "Land of the Long White Cloud." Fun fact, this name came from the snow-capped mountains which either looked like, or were mistaken for, a long white cloud. These people were sea-faring folks, and when they landed, the native wildlife was not used to predators. One such animal was the Moa, a bird much easier to hunt than maintaining the chickens they were used to. The ease of hunting these animals led to a very quick, by geological standards, extinction. This is not a frowning upon the Maori people either. Despite this information, they have utmost care for the land. It's just another example of humans, indigenous or otherwise, interacting with the Earth. Europeans aren't the only ones to push nature to a point that breaks it in some way. In many ways, pushing the planet to new limits, or in ways not really intended, is what humans do. It's what we've always done no matter where we are. And we've literally covered this planet. There really isn't a place on Earth that we haven't touched. Arguably, if we found such a place, it is impacted by our global actions regardless. Trying to categorize which humans did the touching sidesteps that humans are doing the touching. How we interact really just comes down to culture. Looking at our collective past, we can see that we've made some mistakes. Okay...A LOT of mistakes. But we can also do great good. We have recognized that we're a part of this planet across our species' history, and we can continue to shape that. We can continue to be a part of nature and make sure its always their to work with. That it's always there to call home. One of the cool ways to consider this is that nature isn't pristine. We've always been a part of it. Humans have always taken nature and expanded on it. And if we strive for a culture where a coexistence with nature is key, we don't have to just preserve it. We don't have to settle on restoring it. We can make more of it. ~ And, as always, don't forget to keep wondering ~ While this post is largely personal opinion and observation, I was inspired to this topic by Emma Marris' book, Rambunctious Garden, specially chapter 2, "The Forest Primeval." The post certainly takes some paraphrasing from her book :)
Sources * Marris, Emma. Rambunctious Garden: Saving Nature in a Post-Wild World. Bloomsbury, 2011. |
AuthorPrismatic Planet wants to get excited for the planet, raise awareness of its inhabitants, and get smarter about Earth. Archives
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