Walking
down Vancouver’s Alberni Street my head starts buzzing. I haven’t traversed
this path in many years, it is quite a spot: one to see and be seen. The
mugginess of the day makes me slightly detached and I float above the cacophony
of beautiful people. I feel a complex mix of envy and irritation. I want both
to get in and get out: to be one of the glamorous but also on the bus heading
out of town.
A woman walks by. I create a story as she passes, her muscular
stride belying the stiletto heels. She’s gorgeous with her confident strut but
her eyes tell me something different. They are anywhere but here—a wide ranging
look of want, fear and uncertainty … as if any moment she could forget her
lines and be thrown off the stage.
I feel, on
the other hand, already in the theatre wings, the forgotten understudy. I want
to yell, I know what you need to say, just ask … or, better yet, to just tell her
she’s okay; she’s enough.
I walk into
a chocolate patisserie to buy a birthday gift for a friend. The noise is enough
to compete with a pub during NHL playoffs. Once again, the beauty is off the
charts: men and woman alike, poised and posturing; seeing and being seen. I
yell my order, pay and quickly exit, the chocolate already melting in my
overheated hands.
The moist
air blankets me once more with that unworldly feeling of away-ness as I walk to
the bus loop. My nerves are awake with caution and I jump at sudden movements and
spikes of sound. It is not an alive feeling, more nervous and over-caffeinated.
I distract myself with my smart phone.
The bus
ride out of town that I hoped would bring relief settles down with an edge of
despair. Miles of pavement pass by the window. I want out of this cement coated
dreamland but I know, with melancholic awareness, that the suburbia to which I
head will be but a continuation.
I used to desire
the buzz of city life, crave the centre of the action; be one of the beautiful.
A small part of me, however strange, still does. But I know it is no longer
possible. My capacity for such excessive stimuli is on limited supply. Trips
into town are best when they are short sojourns and when I know that escape is
not only possible but immediately available. A stronger fantasy is one of an
isolated cabin not far from a creek. I want trees—big ones to console and
nurture—and I want quiet so I can sit and listen to the stillness.
Don’t get
wrong, I find beauty in the man-made, both structure and mechanical. I love the
sleek lines of a Jaguar XJ, the towering waterfront lift cranes, and majestic
bridges that connect with sublime elegance. But its nature that I crave.
It’s funny
how we learn to survive, even thrive in environments that ultimately threaten
our existence. I know of people who prefer a paved sidewalk to a forested path;
a day in the mall to time spent by the water. To each his own but research shows that humans need nature.
A 2010 study by the University of Rochester found that “ … individuals consistently felt more energetic when they spent time
in natural settings or imagined themselves in such situations ... being outside
in nature for just 20 minutes in a day was enough to significantly boost
vitality levels.”
The study
goes on to conclude that “… the presence
of nature had an independent energizing effect above that of being outdoors. In
other words, conclude the authors, being outdoors was vitalizing in large part
because of the presence of nature.”
Which
brings me to a recent blog by David Suzuki, In the Urban Green Revolution, Small is Big.
In it he tells of how individuals and small community groups are
changing their urban environments for the better. He writes:
Small, creative projects that make cities more livable are popping
up in unexpected places: alleys, front yards, vacant lots and parking spaces.
Whether its yarn-bombed street furniture, roadway parking turned to
mini-parkettes or guerrilla gardens in overlooked spaces, these
often-unauthorized interventions are helping to transform properties and neighbourhoods,
one light, quick, cheap tweak at a time.
I am humbled
by these urban warriors who bring sanctuary to city life. While I hunt for
exits these environmentally inspired artists are transforming communities for
the betterment of humankind. I applaud their work and am forever grateful when
I stumble upon their creativity. When escape is impossible, they change my survival strategies into moments of joy.
For more
information, and especially on how there is actual funding available for such projects, click here.
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