This Week in Upgrades: August 29

Hey, hey! We’re at the start of another week. I’m still on a nature high after visiting the Grand Canyon this weekend. (In fact, I completely forgot to post this yesterday!)

Have you visited the Grand Canyon? Difficult to put the experience into words. It also happened to be the National Park Service centennial when we went, so it was quite the occasion. Pretty crazy that it has been around for 100 years. As beloved as the parks are, though, they are also threatened. It’s up to all of us to protect them for the next hundred years.

What else interesting happened over the last seven days?

The Hawaii Mars simulation ended Monday. Curious to see what they found out from this.

“Their hair fell out.” What kind of regulation should the FDA have over cosmetics? It’s not doing much right now.

The global coffee shortage has already begun. A future without good coffee would be a sad one. Just another reason to do whatever we can to minimize climate change.

Speaking of which, a group of scientists has moved to formally declare the current epoch the anthropocene. We’re officially changing the evolution of the planet in detrimental ways.

“A few milliseconds makes all the difference.” Charisma is largely a matter of thinking quickly. Do you run through options in your mind before you decide what to say and do next?

Please don’t drive slowly in the left lane. Saw way too much of this on our weekend road trip.

We tend to think that the present is much different than the past, but we’ve been asking the same fundamental questions for awhile now.

Have you heard the Millennial whoop? It seems to be in every other pop song.

Have an awesome week!

 

Humans and Nature: Our Place in the World

In 1870, an expedition entered the area we now know as Yellowstone National Park. There had been unsubstantiated rumors of remarkable natural features there, and so a team was put together to go explore and report. Early on, a man by the name of Truman C. Everts was separated from the group and went missing. None of the rest of the group knew if he survived. Initially, they rode around on their horses trying to find him. They were unsuccessful. As they continued to travel through the area, they left clues and supplies in the hope that Everts was still alive.

He was, in fact, but just barely. Over the next several days after going missing, Everts would find himself clinging to life through a whirlwind of what the wilderness could throw at him. His horse ran away with nearly all of his gear. He spent a night in a tree with a lion waiting underneath. He suffered severe frostbite on his feet. He took refuge next to some of the hot geothermal features, only to accidentally break through the surface of one of them and scald himself. 150 miles from the nearest settlement, Everts began hallucinating, promising himself that he wouldn’t die in the wild.

37 days after being separated, he was found on a hillside. With little to eat, he weighed just 50 pounds. Burned, frostbit, emaciated, delirious, he had barely survived. He slowly recovered, later writing a popularly consumed account of his lonely struggle in the elements. He prophesied that one day soon that area would be made comfortably “accessible to all,” and that when that day comes, “…I hope, in happier mood and under more auspicious circumstances, to revisit scenes fraught for me with such mingled glories and terrors.”

How should we think about nature? How do we think about nature?

The complex, decades-long march of technology has allowed us to comfortably settle into robust homes and cities, and most of the world seems easily “accessible” and safe. If we were to drive through Yellowstone National Park today, we would barely give it a second thought that at one time it would take all of the human ingenuity and willpower possible to survive through the often uncompromising harshness of the environment.

Is the natural world a kind of frontier? Most of the early European settlers of America thought so. Inspired by a Garden of Eden, providential vision for a “New World,” the continent seemed to be precisely what the book of Genesis describes–wilderness and waste–ready for them to cultivate and make flourish. They, of course, were either oblivious to or disregarded the indigenous communities–countless, diverse Native American tribes–that had been living on and with the land for centuries. If America was ordained by God to subdue, it was given to someone other than the Europeans long before.

Perhaps nature is primarily a romantic thing–a more John Muir kind of spirituality rather than a biblical one. There are mundane places and then there are transcendent places. Places like Yosemite, for example, that are a sort of secular cathedral where aesthetics, vastness, and remoteness are praised. In this view, true nature entails remarkable places that we choose to go into and out of to elevate the soul.

Or, maybe nature is only just a vast storehouse of resources–something to think of in utilitarian terms. Everything that is there–water, trees, animals, and the rest–are for our excavation and exploitation. A biological warehouse of sorts, for whatever endeavors we have in mind.

Notice that all three of these conceptions put human beings above everything else. There is us, and then there’s nature, whether it’s to be tilled like Adam and Eve, for spiritual transcendence, or for utilitarian use. Us and nature is another binary–a variant of us and themapplied to the world in which we live. We see ourselves as something more than nature: something higher, something else–a type of being that can use nature (whatever it’s best used for) as we please.

Missing, of course, is the simple realization that human beings are themselves one among many kinds of animals. A rational, self-conscious, complex animal, to be sure. But ultimately a creature that is a part of nature–not something separate from it. This kind of understanding might be called the ecological view of nature. Nature is to be viewed as a dense structure of relationships, of “complex, interpenetrating systems,” to use Jedediah Purdy’s description. His book, After Nature: A Politics for the Anthropocene, outlines these four common conceptions of our relationship to nature: providential, romantic, utilitarian, and ecological.

Though it’s a relatively recent way of understanding nature, we need to take the ecological view because we live in a time when human activity impacts the natural world more completely and more dramatically than ever before. We are inseparable from the environment in which we live. It’s not us and nature, it’s just this. We need to realize that our attempts to master the natural world have not brought pure progress, and that because everything is related to everything else in complex ways, we need to be thoughtful about how any of our activity may harm or destroy in ways that may not be immediately apparent. Something here can significantly alter another thing over there.

Our supposed mastery has veiled us from the intense Truman C. Everts kinds of experiences of nature that now occur mostly only for hardcore outdoors people and survivalists, humans who’ve wandered off the beaten path and gotten lost, or people who’ve been tossed into a wild place in some kind of a disaster. But we are in nature all of the time. It’s not just awe-inducing vistas like Yellowstone or Yosemite. And it’s not just endless trees in a forest somewhere out there seemingly there to be cut down and transformed into “things that are actually useful.”

Nature always surrounds us. And we are, at all times, nature ourselves–embodying and impacting the whole interconnected thing in profound ways. How we think about ecosystems and animals and natural resources and the climate and ourselves as a relatively new species trying to survive on this planet is important. A proper understanding of nature and our place in the world is vital. There’s just this. Let’s think about how we fit in with the rest of it all.

 

This Week in Upgrades: April 11

Hello there! Welcome to a new week. I don’t know about you, but I’m locked in a real battle with my tiredness. Last week was a long one without a lot of free time.

But in the time that I did have, I’ve been enjoying reading After Nature: A Politics for the AnthropoceneThe US, along with the rest of the world, needs to take a good look in the mirror about our relationship with nature, and what we need to do now to adapt to climate change. After Nature has a lot of great things to say about that, and I’m sure some of it will end up in future posts.

It was a busy week for human things happening the world. Here are some of the most interesting:

Twitter announced that they’ll be offering employees 20 weeks of paid parental leave. That’s not bad compared to other businesses and some US cities, but still not even close to other countries. Paid maternity and paternity leave of several months should be in every presidential candidate’s platform.

In encouraging environmental news, wild tiger populations are growing for the first time in 100 years. The world’s wildlife has been decreasing dramatically in recent decades.

Quartz took a look at the paltry state of public transportation in the United States and who will fix it. Plenty of room to improve where I live.  How about where you are?

Such a curious thing that we have moving stairwells everywhere. Have you ever wondered about the invention of the escalator?

The more we study bacteria in the gut, the more we understand how important it is. A recent study shows how they relate to brain function.

Speaking of bodily health, almost all of us will probably have checked WebMD at some point. Is it trustworthy?

Continuing the conversation about stuff: fast fashion is not sustainable. Let’s fill our closets with stuff made to last, yeah?

Have a great week!