Tag: nature

creativity

The Great Reorganization: Migration, Managed Retreat, and the Rivers Between

Christa Avampato
A Gulf Coast storm followed by snowmelt in January 2025 temporarily increased the Mississippi River’s outflow, sending a surge of sediment through the delta and into gulf waters. NASA.

We often talk about climate change in the future tense, but the physical reorganization of our world is already happening in real-time. It is a story of where we can stay, where we must leave, and how we might restore the land and waterways that connect all species that share this planet. For more than a century, people have built rigid concrete defenses against rising sea levels and in an attempt to dam and direct rivers to suit our immediate needs. But the physical reality of our planet is now demanding a total reorganization of where—and how—we live together as part of an ecosystem that is far bigger and more powerful than us rather basing our construction on the belief that people can dominate nature.

As we face this transition in mindset and practical living, we are guided by a fundamental climate choice first formulated by physicist and former presidential science advisor Dr. John Holdren:

We basically have three choices when it comes to our changing climate: mitigation, adaptation and suffering. Holdren acknowledges that we’re going to do some of each. The question he asks us is what the mix is going to be. Increase one of the three, and we will do less of the second and third. To many minds, this is the goal: the more mitigation we do, the less adaptation will be required and the less suffering there will be.

Following on from his framework of these three pie pieces, I’ve been thinking about three distinct pieces of research that point us toward where the climate transition is leading us.

1. The Physics of Departure: The Sinking Gulf

A new study recently published in Nature Sustainability brings the urgency of Dr. John Holdren’s triad into sharp focus for the American South. In the Gulf Coast, specifically around New Orleans and the surrounding delta, researchers have identified a compounding crisis: the land is physically sinking (subsidence) at the same time the ocean is rising. This is a perfect storm that threatens one of the most culturally rich cities in the U.S.

The Acceleration of Relative Sea-Level Rise

Using high-resolution satellite data and GPS monitoring, the study reveals that the land in this region is moving downward at a rate significantly higher than previously estimated. This creates a Relative Sea-Level Rise that is often double or triple the global average. While the world discusses centimeters of rise over decades, communities in the Gulf are dealing with inches of lost elevation in just a few years.

This subsidence is driven by a combination of natural sediment compaction and human activity, including the extraction of groundwater and fossil fuel. Because we have dammed the Mississippi River (as discussed in our next section), the natural delivery of new sediment that used to replenish the delta has been cut off. The land is starving for the very silt that used to keep it above water.

The Limits of Adaptation

When the land physically disappears, the limits of adaptation are breached. We reach a point where holding the line with higher levees and stronger pumps becomes a mechanical impossibility. We cannot prevent a flood with a tablespoon while the tap is turned up to full blast. This is rapidly shutting down the option mitigation. Therefore, it forces the zero-sum choice Holdren warned us about: New Orleans must choose between managed retreat—a proactive, planned relocation—or unavoidable suffering for those left behind.

Relocation in this context is not just a logistical move; it is a cultural crisis. To avoid mass suffering, we need a framework for place-making that moves entire community networks together. If we don’t plan for the transfer of the community—the music, food, heritage, and social bonds—we risk losing the soul of the Gulf to the rising water.

2. Working With the Water: America Undammed

While the coast sinks, our inland arteries are being liberated through a radical shift in infrastructure policy. As reported by the New York Times, the United States is currently undergoing a massive effort to dismantle thousands of obsolete dams—many of which have outlived their 50-year lifespans and now pose significant safety risks to downstream communities.

This is proactive adaptation in its purest form. For over a century, we treated rivers as plumbing—static pipes to be redirected, blocked, and controlled. Now, we are learning that a free-flowing river is a far superior neighbor than one trapped behind aging concrete.

The Multi-Species Dividend of Restoration

When a dam is removed, the results are often instantaneous and transformative. By restoring the natural flow, we allow for the return of sediment—the literal building blocks of the land—which has been trapped in reservoirs for decades. This sediment is what naturally replenishes deltas and keeps coastal lands from sinking, directly impacting the crisis seen in and around New Orleans.

Furthermore, removing these barriers restores migratory paths for fish and wildlife that have been blocked for generations. It is an act of biological reconciliation that allows species to move toward cooler waters as temperatures rise, a key component of the Deep Adaptation required in a changing climate.

The Safety and Financial Calculus

Beyond ecology, the Undammed movement is a response to the mechanical failure of the 20th-century model. Aging dams are increasingly unable to handle the 1,000-year flood events that are becoming more frequent. Removing them is a strategic choice to avoid the catastrophic suffering of a dam failure. By restoring natural floodplains, we create massive, landscape-scale sponges that can absorb and slow down water surges, protecting human infrastructure by working with the water’s energy rather than trying to stifle it. We’ve made water a foe when we’re much better off giving it the room it needs to be our friend.

3. The Nomad Century: The Infrastructure of Global Movement

If the sinking Gulf represents the limits of adaptation and the undammed rivers represent the liberation of nature, then Gaia Vince’s book Nomad Century: How Climate Migration Will Reshape Our World represents the inevitable human response: The Great (Human) Migration. We are moving toward a reality where the map of human habitation must become as fluid as the climate itself.

To manage this transition without catastrophic suffering, we must move away from the 20th-century model of fixed borders and toward a 21st-century model of managed movement. Given our current geopolitics, this is getting more complicated (and contentious) by the day. There’s no doubt that this requires a radical rethink of our global systems across three specific pillars:

The Digital State and Portable Identity

In a world of mass movement, your identity cannot be tied to a physical piece of paper in a desk drawer that might be lost to a flood or a fire. We need a global framework for Digital Identity—portable, secure, and internationally recognized credentials that allow migrants to carry their medical records, professional certifications, and legal standing with them. This ensures that a doctor from a submerged coast can become a doctor in a receiver city on day one, rather than being trapped in a cycle of structural suffering and economic, intellectual, and talent waste.

The Rise of Receiver Cities

The green zones—latitudes in the north that will remain temperate—must proactively prepare to become Receiver Cities. This is the ultimate test of Holdren’s triad: by investing in massive adaptation now (housing, high-speed transit, and sustainable food systems), these regions can prevent the mass suffering of unplanned, chaotic arrivals. These cities must be designed as expandable machines, utilizing modular architecture and circular resource loops to integrate millions of new residents while maintaining ecological balance and social structures.

Deep Adaptation and the Preservation of Culture

Scholars like Jem Bendell have expanded on this reality through the framework of Deep Adaptation. It acknowledges that because global mitigation failed to prevent significant warming, we must now pivot toward valuing what we want to keep. As communities move, we must build systems to archive and carry forward the culture of humanity—languages, traditions, and social structures—so that when we relinquish the land, we do not lose the soul and the history of the people who lived there.

The Togetherhood Takeaway

We cannot command the planet to stay still. Our survival depends on our ability to move with the land and the water, rather than against them.

  • Audit the Mix: Look at your local climate initiatives. Are they focused on mitigation (reducing the cause), adaptation (living with the effect), or is your community opting for future suffering by ignoring the problem?
  • Audit the Choice: Demand that your leaders explain their Holdren Mix. Are they spending on adaptation now, or are they effectively budgeting for future suffering?
  • Map Your Resilience: Research the topography of your own region. Understanding whether your land is rising or sinking changes every conversation about long-term infrastructure and property.
  • Map Your Role: Research your own local geography. Is your community positioned to be a receiver of migration or a sender? This changes every conversation you have about local infrastructure and zoning.
  • Advocate for the Flow: Support local river restoration projects. Undamming a waterway is an act of long-term climate insurance for your entire watershed.
  • Practice Fluidity: In a Nomad Century, the most valuable skill is the ability to form deep community connections quickly.
  • Redefine Home: In a Nomad Century, home must shift from a static point on a map to a commitment to community resilience, wherever that community ends up.

The map is changing. To honor the planet and each other, we must have the courage to move with it. Will we each find it within ourselves to do the mitigation and adaptation needed to limit suffering? That remains the most potent question on the table today for every country, policy maker, and person. Eventually, nature will demand an answer.

creativity

The Century-Long Lens: Lessons from Sir David Attenborough and Stockholm

Christa Avampato
Sir David Attenborough. Otherworld & Time Out: https://www.timeout.com/london/news/a-new-david-attenborough-vr-experience-has-launched-in-london-013024

This Friday, the world celebrates a staggering milestone as Sir David Attenborough turns 100. For a century, he has served as one of nature’s fiercest advocates and storytellers, moving from showing us the beauty of the wild to imploring us to take a stand for nature’s survival and our own. His career proves that meaningful change is rarely a sprint; it is a relentless, lifelong commitment to shifting how we see the world and our place in it. I, like so many other people, have been profoundly influenced by him and his passion for our natural world. Graduating from University of Cambridge, as he did, after studying Sustainability Leadership set my life and career on a new course.

Doubling Down on the Blueprint

I have been thinking a lot about this long-term perspective lately, especially with the publication of my latest feature in Smithsonian Magazine. I spent months diving into the story of Hammarby Sjöstad, a neighborhood in Stockholm that set out with intensely ambitious sustainability goals in the 1990s.

When the project initially fell short of its targets, the community did not abandon the mission. They doubled down. A group of neighbors got together and created ElectriCITY Innovation. They treated their failures as data points and evolved their strategy, eventually creating a circular-economy blueprint that cities across the globe can adapt and apply. You can read the full story of their decades-long journey toward resilience in my new feature:

READ THE FULL FEATURE IN SMITHSONIAN MAGAZINE

The Togetherhood Takeaway

Whether we look at Attenborough’s hundred-year legacy or Stockholm’s thirty-year urban experiment, the lesson for our own communities remains clear: sustainability requires the stamina to stay in the game when things get difficult.

  • Celebrate the storytellers: Take a moment this Friday to watch a piece of Attenborough’s work and reflect on how his perspective shaped your own understanding of nature.
  • Audit your long game: Look at a sustainability project in your own neighborhood that feels stalled. Instead of viewing a missed goal as a failure, ask how you can double down and pivot the strategy like Stockholm did.
  • Share the blueprint: When you find a solution that works, document it and share it. Evolution happens when we learn from each other’s experiments, failures, and triumphs. Sustainability is not a one-and-done task. It’s a process of continuous improvement.

Nature and our cities both require us to think in decades, not just days. To honor Dr. David Attenborough and the beings with whom we share this planet, let’s keep building for the next century.

creativity

The Overview Effect: Solving Earth’s Problems From 250,000 Miles Away

Christa Avampato
Earth setting on April 6, 2026. Taken by the crew of Artemis II. Photo from NASA.
https://www.nasa.gov/image-article/earthset/

This week, four astronauts aboard the Artemis II Orion spacecraft achieved something humanity has not done in over fifty years. They flew around the far side of the moon, traveling farther from Earth than any humans in history – 252,760 miles. As they passed behind the lunar surface, they turned their cameras back toward home and captured a breathtaking Earthset, watching our bright blue planet sink behind the desolate, cratered edge of the moon. Looking at all of the media coming from the mission gives me chills in the best way.

The Cognitive Shift
When astronauts view our planet from this immense distance, they often experience a profound cognitive shift known as the Overview Effect. From 250,000 miles away, they can’t see political borders, neighborhood disputes, or ideological divides. They see a single, fragile ecosystem. They realize that every being, be they a person, animal, or plant, shares the same life support system and collectively, the same destiny. We all only have one home and it belongs to all of us.

A Floating Laboratory for a Sustainable Earth
People frequently wonder why we invest in space exploration when we face so many massive challenges right here on Earth. The answer is that a deep space capsule is the ultimate testbed for our future. We do not explore space to abandon our home planet; we explore space to discover the exact tools necessary to protect it.

To survive a lunar mission, astronauts cannot waste a single resource and a vast group of people with different talents and experiences must work together as a cohesive team with a singular shared mission – bring them all home safely. They must operate a circular economy. NASA engineers design advanced filters to scrub carbon dioxide directly out of the cabin air—technology that now forms the foundation of direct air capture facilities fighting global warming today. They develop systems to recover and purify every drop of moisture, translating directly to water filtration for drought-stricken communities. They conduct experiments on high-yield indoor agriculture to feed the crew without the benefits of direct sunlight or nutrient-rich soil, helping us understand how we can grow food in harsh environments. Staging this mission also requires the development of stronger, lighter materials that translates into the conservation of valuable resources.

Alongside this climate engineering, the Artemis II crew is conducting experiments that directly advance medical science. They carry microchips containing living human bone marrow tissue to study exactly how deep-space radiation and microgravity affects human cells. They monitor their own biological responses to understand why and how extreme stress alters the human immune system. Solving these medical challenges in space paves the way for individualized cancer treatments, tools to predict and treat chronic conditions, and advanced healthcare innovations that test drugs and vaccines. All of this research means that the astronauts are both scientists and test subjects. What we learn from these missions directly translates to helping all of us build a better healthcare system.

Orchestration on a Massive Scale
The mission also represents the ultimate example of community orchestration. Sending a crew around the moon and safely bringing them back is never the work of one isolated visionary. It requires a massive, synchronized ecosystem of engineers, technicians, and scientists across the globe. Thousands of people must set aside their individual egos and operate with absolute trust in one another to navigate the unknown.

The Takeaway
We do not need to launch into orbit to apply the Overview Effect to our daily lives. When we get stuck in the weeds of local disputes or feel overwhelmed by the friction of community building, we simply need to change our vantage point.

We can actively choose to step back and look at our neighborhoods as unified ecosystems.

  • Change your altitude to change your attitude: When a conflict arises in your community, intentionally zoom out. Ask yourself how this specific disagreement affects the overall health of the neighborhood ecosystem rather than just your immediate block. Then help other people zoom out as well to gain the same benefits of perspective.
  • Acknowledge the shared ship and the shared journey: Remind yourself and your neighbors that you all rely on the same local infrastructure and green spaces, and that collectively you are building your local economy to benefit everyone. You succeed or fail together.
  • Orchestrate across borders: Look for ways to connect your local initiatives with efforts in neighboring communities. A thriving garden in your neighborhood benefits the pollinators across your city and beyond.
  • Translate the research: Take inspiration from the Artemis crew. Look for ways to do small experiments and use the solutions you develop through those experiments to help your community and share with adjacent communities.

Nature requires us to act as a unified whole. We just need the right perspective to see it. Luckily for us, the crew of Artemis II is helping all of us to keep looking up.

creativity

Cultivating Hope: How Altadena, California Is Orchestrating Its Own Superbloom

Christa Avampato
Poppies in California. Photo by Sarah Wood on Unsplash.

The California poppy is a masterclass in resilience. As a universal symbol of remembrance and hope, this delicate flower possesses a rugged secret. It thrives in some of the most challenging environments on earth, specifically germinating and flourishing in the harsh, scarred soil left behind by wildfires.

While a desert superbloom relies entirely on the unpredictable rhythms of weather, one community in Southern California decided not to wait for perfect conditions. They chose to actively orchestrate their own recovery.

The Ashes of Altadena In January 2025, the devastating Eaton Fire swept through the foothills of Altadena, California. The blaze destroyed thousands of structures, claiming homes, businesses, and irreplaceable personal histories.

Among the survivors was René Amy, a longtime community activist. The fire consumed his home and, in a cruel twist of irony, his native wildflower seed business called Altadena Maid Products. He lost his entire inventory to the flames. But instead of surrendering to the devastation, he immediately began volunteering at local shelters and looking for ways to heal his neighborhood.

The Great Altadena Poppy Project Understanding the deep psychological toll of the fire, René launched the Great Altadena Poppy Project. His vision was breathtakingly simple but massively ambitious: blanket the fire-scarred town in vibrant color by planting poppies – millions of them.

A century ago, golden poppy fields covered Altadena so densely that tourists traveled from across the country just to witness the bloom. René wanted to restore that legacy and offer his neighbors a tangible sign of life returning to their barren lots.

He initially purchased 120 million seeds with $20,000 of his own money and invited fire-impacted residents to sign up for free seeding services on their impacted properties. The response was overwhelming. Hundreds of homeowners asked to participate. Thanks to an outpouring of community support and anonymous donations, the project expanded its goal to sow a quarter of a billion seeds across more than 700 properties.

Orchestrating a Bloom This effort is the ultimate example of community orchestration. René and his crew of volunteers traverse the burn zones, spreading seeds across empty lots and blackened earth. Local scout troops pack envelopes of seeds to distribute globally, allowing friends and family far away to plant their own flowers in solidarity.

They are not just planting flowers; they are actively rehabilitating the degraded soil, preventing erosion, and providing a massive food source for local pollinators. Most importantly, they are giving traumatized residents a reason to look forward to the spring.

The Togetherhood Takeaway When we face immense loss or walk through a difficult season, it is easy to look at the scorched earth and assume nothing will ever grow there again. The residents of Altadena remind us that we do not have to passively wait for healing to arrive. We can plant the seeds of our own recovery.

Perhaps the most inspiring aspect of this entire project is its absolute lack of formal bureaucracy. René Amy did not wait to incorporate a nonprofit, assemble a board of directors, or build a complex fundraising platform. He just bought seeds and started asking his neighbors to help. This operates as pure mutual aid. It proves that you do not need a massive organizational apparatus or a corporate budget to orchestrate a community transformation. You simply need a good idea and the willingness to do the work.

Imagine what our country would look like if we all took this grassroots approach to our local ecosystems. A nationwide sight of vibrant, resilient flowers pushing through the cracks would be a powerful testament to our collective strength.

You can get involved with the Altadena project directly and bring this exact DIY energy to your own neighborhood right now.

  • Fund the recovery: While the poppy planting operates informally, the community still needs immense support for ongoing rebuilding and soil rehabilitation. Donating to the Altadena Community Preservation Fund provides direct financial assistance to the fire survivors.
  • Send seeds of solidarity: The project actively encourages people nationwide to purchase and plant native seeds in their own yards in solidarity with the residents, creating a networked superbloom across the country.
  • Plant a local blend: While California poppies thrive out West, creating a resilient ecosystem locally requires native species adapted to our specific climate. Instead of planting poppies, source a specific wildflower blend native to your area. In New York, that blend could contain Lanceleaf Coreopsis, Purple Coneflower, and Black-Eyed Susan. Scattering these in tree beds, empty lots, or window boxes around NYC creates a vital food source for local bees and birds.
  • Support local restoration: Channel the energy of the poppy project into ongoing efforts in our home area. In New York City, volunteering with the Brooklyn Greenway Initiative or local community gardens helps build the exact same kind of resilient infrastructure René Amy is building in California.
  • Be the orchestrator: Do not wait for someone else or a formal organization to beautify your street. Organize your neighbors, share resources, and create the conditions for your community to thrive.

Nature teaches us that even the most devastating fires eventually give way to new growth. We just have to be willing to do the planting and ask others to join us in our efforts.

creativity

Magic Awaits: Life and Career Lessons from Death Valley’s Superbloom

Christa Avampato
California wildflower superbloom. Photo by Mason Field on Unsplash

Death Valley is the hottest, driest, and lowest place in North America. Most of the time, it looks like a barren, windswept land. Unforgiving. Hopeless. On the surface, it looks as if nothing could ever survive here. In line with its name, dead.

And yet, out of sight, millions of tiny seeds, bits of magic, lie in wait for just the right conditions to fulfill their potential. Patiently, they track rainfall, temperature, and wind. They have one shot to show us what they can do so they wait for the odds to be ever in their favor.

November 2025 – January 2026 set the stage for them to shine. In those months, a year’s worth of rain fell. The record rains leached salts from the soil and that triggered massive germination. The temperatures were exceptionally mild without becoming scorching hot. A mild winter and early spring temperatures gave the seeds the exact level of warmth they needed without burning them. The winds were calm, allowing the seeds to anchor themselves and root into the soil at their earliest growth stage rather than being blown away.

The patience of the seeds was rewarded, and so were we. The 2026 superbloom of wild flowers in Death Valley was the most significant in a decade, and on par with those in 2016, 2005, and 1998. Desert Gold, Poppy, Verbena, Golden Evening Primrose, and Purple Phacelia bloomed in such density that they looked like swaths of color rather than individuals flowers. The monotonous, dry land of Death Valley was transformed into a thing of beauty that rivals, and I would argue exceeds, any work of human art.

Bees buzz. Hummingbirds hover. A light wind carries the perfume of the flowers. Sights, sounds, and scents for sore eyes, weary souls, and hearts that need to be made whole in a way that only nature can provide. It will not last forever, and will be gone all too soon. But while it’s here, in all its blooming glory, we revel in it.

The Togetherhood Takeaway
Long after the flowers wilt and Death Valley fades back to its seemingly empty landscape, we can carry the superbloom’s lessons into our lives, communities, and careers.

We don’t do anything alone
The context and environment in which we find ourselves impacts our growth and progress. I’m obsessed with settings and orchestration. It’s my favorite thing to work on. How can I create the conditions to thrive, for myself and for others? How can I help us all to grow together?

Timing matters
We are so quick to judge our own efforts and the efforts of others as if we solely control how successful something is. While we have control over our own efforts, we do not own the results. That is a difficult lesson for creators of any kind to learn and accept. It’s why I spend a lot of time and effort on creating environments and ecosystems where the people I work with can become the best versions of themselves. Some of our experiments work right out of the gate. Some of them don’t. And many times, our successes and failures are truly a matter of timing. The good news is we can always learn and try again. Improvement, no matter where we start, is a continuous process.

Quiet work is foundational
It’s healthy to take a break, regroup, reflect, and come back stronger and more well-rested, and perhaps in a totally different form. Just because someone isn’t showing off what they’re doing doesn’t mean they aren’t building something worthy. In a world that is addicted to social media and recording every single moment for public consumption, there’s a profound sense of peace to be found in doing work in our own space without outside distractions. We don’t need to accept that all eyes have to be on us all the time. Underground work has immense value. We can choose the time to bloom when it’s right for us.

creativity

The Blueprint of Return: What Rewilding Teaches Us About Community

Christa Avampato
Naval Cemetery Landscape. Brooklyn, New York. From Landezine International Landscape Award. https://landezine-award.com/naval-cemetery-landscape-3/

March 20th marks the spring equinox and World Rewilding Day. Around the globe, conservationists and community leaders are celebrating this year’s theme: Choose Our Future.

We often operate under the assumption that we have to engineer our way out of every crisis. We build concrete seawalls to stop flooding and pour chemicals into the soil to force crops to grow. But the rewilding movement offers a radically different approach to leadership and resilience. It suggests that nature already holds the solutions. When we step back, relinquish a little control, and restore the natural balance, the ecosystem heals itself.

We can see this extraordinary transformation happening right now across diverse landscapes and communities.

The Affric Highlands In the central Highlands of Scotland, a groundbreaking, community-led coalition is leading the largest rewilding project in the United Kingdom. For centuries, intensive grazing and logging severely depleted the region, fragmenting the ancient Caledonian pinewoods.

Instead of forcing a heavily engineered recovery, the Affric Highlands project focuses on natural regeneration across 200,000 hectares of land. A diverse group of local landowners, businesses, and volunteers work together to remove barriers and simply allow native birch, rowan, and alder to reclaim the bare hillsides. As the trees return, so do the red squirrels, golden eagles, and black grouse. They are proving that large-scale nature recovery works best when deeply rooted in local collaboration, creating a landscape where both the wildlife and the rural economy thrive together.

The Naval Cemetery Landscape Rewilding does not require thousands of acres; it happens in the densest urban environments. Right here in Brooklyn, a forgotten piece of history recently experienced a profound ecological rebirth. For almost a century, a plot of land at the Brooklyn Navy Yard served as a hospital burial ground before the military decommissioned it.

Instead of paving it over for commercial development, the Brooklyn Greenway Initiative transformed the site into the Naval Cemetery Landscape. They planted a 1.8-acre meadow teeming with over fifty native plant species like milkweed, asters, and switchgrass. Today, this formerly restricted land is a public haven buzzing with native bees, moths, and migratory birds. A raised wooden boardwalk allows visitors to experience the vibrant ecosystem without disturbing the soil. By bringing abundant life to a space that memorializes the dead, the community created a powerful sanctuary honoring the cycles of nature.

The Saw Mill River Daylighting In Yonkers, New York, city planners buried the Saw Mill River under a concrete parking lot in the 1920s. For nearly a century, the waterway vanished from the community. Recently, a coalition of residents and environmentalists championed a daylighting project to tear up the concrete and bring the river back to the surface.

Today, a thriving aquatic ecosystem runs right through the downtown plaza. American eels, snapping turtles, and migratory birds returned almost immediately. Uncovering the river revitalized the local economy and proved that removing artificial barriers allows life to rush back in with incredible speed.

The Snowchange Cooperative In Finland, decades of industrial peat mining severely damaged the boreal forests and wetlands. A network of local villages and Indigenous Sámi communities formed the Snowchange Cooperative to buy back the degraded land and restore it.

They block the old drainage ditches and allow the water to flood the peatlands once again. This simple act creates vital habitats for nesting birds and traps massive amounts of carbon. They combine traditional ecological knowledge with modern science, showing that the people who live closest to the land are often its most effective healers.

Green Forests Work Across the Appalachian region of the United States, legacy coal mining left behind millions of acres of compacted, barren land. Traditional reclamation simply planted non-native grasses, creating ecological dead zones.

An organization called Green Forests Work takes a completely different approach. They use heavy machinery to deliberately rip up the compacted earth, loosening the soil so water can penetrate. Then, volunteers plant native hardwood trees like American chestnut and oak. By breaking up the hardened surface, they allow a diverse, native forest ecosystem to replace an extractive wasteland.

The Togetherhood Takeaway Rewilding is more than an ecological strategy; it is a mindset for community building.

When we look at our own neighborhoods, our workplaces, and our creative projects, we often try to force outcomes. We exhaust ourselves trying to micromanage every detail. Rewilding teaches us to focus on the environment instead. When we cultivate healthy soil, encourage diversity, and remove the toxic barriers, we do not have to force growth. It happens naturally.

This spring, consider how you can rewild your own life. Plant native species in your window box. Support local ecosystem restoration projects. If you have a lawn, let it grow wild and free – better for you and better for the planet. Give yourself permission to grow, thrive, and create joy even in times of difficulty. Save room in your life for the unexpected and the not-yet-imagined. Be a joiner and link arms with those around you. Nature teaches us that when we uplift others, we create the conditions for everyone to rise together.

creativity

The Power of Local: How Community Energy Builds Global Resilience

Christa Avampato
Sunset Park Solar project at the Brooklyn Army Terminal. Photo from Working Power: https://www.workingpower.com/case-studies/sunset-park-solar-upro

The news cycle frequently reminds us how fragile our extractive energy systems truly are. When we rely on distant supply chains and volatile markets to power our homes, a disruption on the other side of the world immediately impacts our local stability. We tether our daily lives to global anxieties.

But true energy independence looks entirely different. It comes from making nature an ally.

When we build symbiotic systems that harness the sun and the wind, we stop relying on extraction and start cultivating true resilience. Renewable energy does more than lower carbon emissions; it insulates our communities from global market shocks. The sun does not care about international borders, and the wind does not respond to market panic. They simply provide.

Across the country, communities are already proving that the best way to weather a global storm is to build a strong local energy ecosystem.

Sunset Park, Brooklyn

Right in our own backyard in Brooklyn, a grassroots organization called UPROSE is transforming the industrial waterfront. They spearheaded the creation of New York City’s first cooperatively owned community solar project on the roof of the Brooklyn Army Terminal. This massive solar array—a system that links hundreds of individual solar panels together so they function as one unified power plant—provides discounted, clean energy to approximately 150 local households and small businesses. Instead of traditional corporate ownership, UPROSE and the developer Working Power co-own the system alongside the community. They direct the revenue generated by the array into a community wealth fund, allowing residents to finance additional local projects based on their own priorities. This structure empowers Sunset Park residents to vote on spending the profits, such as funding additional local solar initiatives. Instead of waiting for top-down solutions, the neighborhood is building its own climate resiliency and keeping the economic benefits firmly rooted in the community.

Shungnak, Alaska

Inside the Arctic Circle, the remote Iñupiat village of Shungnak historically relied entirely on shipped-in diesel fuel to run its generators. This dependence made energy incredibly expensive (sometimes as much as $15 per gallon) and vulnerable to supply chain issues. Recently, the community installed a hybrid microgrid featuring a 225-kilowatt solar array and an advanced 384-kilowatt-hour lithium iron phosphate battery system. These batteries are grid-forming, meaning they seamlessly take over the electrical load without a flicker. They provide a safer, longer-lasting alternative to standard lithium-ion options. This technology allows the village to completely shut off its diesel engines for hours at a time during the long summer days. The community has recorded stretches of up to 11 straight hours running purely on solar and battery power. The system saves the community 15,000 to 25,000 gallons of diesel fuel annually. This translates to well over $125,000 in savings each year, bringing true energy independence and resilience to the region. This project won Solar Builder Magazine’s Project of the Year Award.

Buffalo, New York

Upstate in Buffalo, New York, a non-profit called PUSH Buffalo transformed a vacant 1927 public school building into a thriving community hub. The renovated School 77 now houses 30 affordable senior apartments, a neighborhood gymnasium, and a local theater company. They installed a 64-kilowatt community-owned solar array on the roof to supply energy to the local grid. PUSH Buffalo offers the resulting energy credits directly to the buildings low-income tenants at a steeply discounted rate compared to the standard utility company. Furthermore, the tenants engage in a participatory budgeting process to decide exactly how to spend any excess revenue generated by the system. While they initially lacked the funding for battery storage, PUSH Buffalo actively plans to add this capacity. This future upgrade will officially turn School 77 into a microgrid and resiliency hub during extreme weather conditions.

The Togetherhood Takeaway These communities are not just changing how they get their power; they are fundamentally changing their relationship with the natural world. They are moving from an extractive model that leaves them vulnerable, to a symbiotic model that makes them remarkably strong.

When we make nature our ally, we stop being passive consumers of a fragile global market and start becoming active builders of a resilient local ecosystem that benefits all beings who call it home.

Taking Action in Your Own Ecosystem Building a resilient local grid starts with small, deliberate steps, and you do not need to own a roof to participate. Here are four ways to start cultivating energy independence in your own community right now:

  • Find a Community Solar Farm: Platforms like EnergySage allow you to enter your zip code and find local solar arrays looking for subscribers. You simply connect your utility account and start powering your home with local sun, often at a discount.
  • Join a Solar Co-op: Organizations like Solar United Neighbors help neighborhoods band together to bulk-purchase solar installations, driving down costs and building collective community power.
  • Support Energy Democracy: Groups like WE ACT for Environmental Justice and the Institute for Local Self-Reliance provide incredible blueprints for advocating for equitable energy policies in your city.
  • Advocate Locally: Connect with local chapters of the Climate Reality Project to organize around local infrastructure changes and demand clean energy investments from your elected officials.
creativity

Spring Is Already Here (You Just Can’t See It Yet)

Christa Avampato
Crocuses in the snow. Photo by Alexandra Vo on Unsplash.

We think spring begins when the first flower blooms. But biologically, it starts right now—in the freezing cold.

If you’ve spent this winter in New York City like me, you’ve likely been dreaming of the arrival of spring during the freezing, snowy, and gray days. You also probably shook your fists at the sky when the groundhogs saw their shadow on February 2nd.

“When will this end?” you thought.

But if you ask a sugar maple or a wildflower seed, they will tell you that spring started while the snow was falling.

We tend to measure the season by what we can see—the green bud, the crocus, the robin. But nature does her most important preparation underground, long before the visuals arrive. In fact, she uses the harshness of late winter to fuel the growth of spring. Without the present cold, there is no future warmth—literally and figuratively, for nature and for us.

Here is how nature is prepping for spring right now in this last month of winter, and what we can learn from her and translate into our own lives.

1. The Cold Is the Key (Stratification)

We often complain about the bitter cold, gray skies, and damp days of February, wishing them away. But for many native plants, this weather in this season is non-negotiable. It’s the foundation of their flourishing future.

This process is called stratification. Seeds like milkweed, coneflower, and lavender have tough outer shells that keep them dormant. They literally cannot grow until they have gone through a period of intense cold and moisture. The freeze acts as a signal, softening the shell and telling the embryo inside that it is safe to wake up.

Without the hard winter, there is no spring bloom. The obstacle is also the key that turns the lock.

2. Use the Pressure and Change (Sap Flow)

Right now, maple syrup farmers are busy. Why? Because the sap is running.

But sap doesn’t run just because it gets warm. It runs because of the fluctuation. While the shifts in transitions may drive us crazy, it’s the alternation between freezing nights and thawing days that creates pressure changes inside the sugar maple trees, acting as a natural pump to move sugar from the roots up to the branches.

The tree uses the instability of the season to fuel its growth. Being off-balance all the time helps the tree find their secure center.

The Togetherhood Takeaway

We often want to jump straight from winter rest to full-bloom success. We want the project to launch, the book to sell, or the answer to appear.

But right now, today, nature is in the stratification phase. We are, too.

If you feel like nothing is happening right now, that you’re stuck and that the world is off-kilter, or if things feel cold and hard and impossible right now in your local community and our global community, remember the seed. You aren’t stuck. You’re just softening your shell so you can break through in the days ahead as the light and warmth return.

Use this time, today, tomorrow, and the rest of this month before spring, to prepare your roots. Organizing, planning, and laying the groundwork for our future—collectively and individually—is active growth, even if no one else can see it yet.

Spring is coming. But the work starts now.

creativity

Breathe Like a Bird (Without Growing Wings)

Christa Avampato
The Golden Tanager, a yellow bird flying in a bright blue sky with wings outstretched.
The Golden Tanager, a high-flying bird native to the Andes Mountains in South America. Photo by Bird Bird on Unsplash.

Last week we looked at why our dogs are sensitive to toxins. This week, we look up. Why birds are the most efficient breathers on Earth—and what they can teach us about stress, stamina, and clearing the air.

Last week, I wrote about how our dogs act as “biological sentinels” in our homes. Because they live on the floor and groom their fur, they are often the first to show the effects of the invisible toxins in our home environment.

But there is another biological sentinel we have relied on for centuries: The canary in the coal mine.

We often use that phrase to describe a warning sign. But have you ever stopped to ask why the canary dies first?

It isn’t just because they are small. It’s because they are superior breathers.

As I was digging into the research on environmental health last week, I learned that birds extract significantly more oxygen from the air than mammals do. While that makes them more vulnerable to pollution, it also makes them athletes of the sky.

The bar-headed goose (Anser indicus) is renowned for its ability to fly directly over the Himalayas during its biannual migration between Central Asia and India, with sightings recorded at altitudes exceeding 28,000 feet, nearly reaching the peak of Mount Everest. The air is so thin at that altitude that it would kill a human. Birds can not only survive but can exert themselves that high in the air because of the unique way they process breath.

Since February is often a month where we feel stifled by the cold of winter (especially this year!), I wondered: Can we learn to breathe like a bird?

The Science: The Circle vs. The Tide

The difference comes down to flow.

Humans breathe like the tide. We have a tidal breath system. We breathe air into an enclosed sac (our lungs), and then we have to push it back out the same way it came in. The problem? We are terrible at emptying the tank. We often leave “stale” air trapped in the bottom of our lungs, mixing fresh oxygen with old carbon dioxide. It’s inefficient.

Birds breathe in a circle. Birds have a system of air sacs that act like bellows. They push air through their lungs in one continuous direction.

  • When a bird inhales, it gets fresh oxygen.
  • The Mind-Blowing Part: When a bird exhales, it moves stored air from a rear sac into the lungs, meaning it gets fresh oxygen again.

They get oxygen on the inhale and the exhale. They never stop fueling the engine.

(If you want to see this in action, watch this 2-minute animation. It completely changed how I visualize breath: https://youtu.be/_NnBgM41jp0)

How Can We Adapt the Breath of a Bird: Focus on the Exhale

We cannot physically grow air sacs (unfortunately). But we can mimic the bird’s efficiency by changing one simple habit.

Most of us are shallow breathers. When we are stressed, we take tiny sips of air, leaving that stale air stagnant in our lungs.

To breathe like a bird, we don’t only need to inhale more; we need to exhale more.

Try this Biomimicry-inspired Bird Breath:

  1. Empty the Tank: Instead of just letting your breath go, actively push the air out until your lungs feel completely empty. Squeeze the abs. Get rid of the “tidal” leftovers.
  2. The Recoil: Once you are truly empty, your body will naturally reflexively gasp for a deep, full breath of fresh air.
  3. Repeat: By focusing on the out, the in takes care of itself.

Nature designed birds to never waste a breath. We might not be able to fly over the Himalayas, but by clearing out the stale air, we can definitely navigate our day with a little more altitude.

creativity

Why We Need Chill Hours (According to an Apple Tree, a Squirrel, and a Bear)

Christa Avampato
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

We feel guilty for being tired in January. But for apple trees, squirrels, and bears doing nothing is the most productive thing they do all year.

I grew up on an apple farm in New York State’s Hudson Valley.

Because of that, my relationship with winter is a little different than most. To the casual observer, an apple orchard in January looks unproductive. The branches are bare, the ground is frozen, and it appears that nothing is happening.

But if you ask a farmer, they’ll tell you January is one of the most critical months of the year. It’s the month that decides the harvest.

We have a tendency in our culture to treat rest as a sign of weakness—or at best, a reward you get only after you’ve burned out. But nature has a different rulebook. She doesn’t ask herself to earn her rest. In the wild, winter isn’t a pause button; it’s an active biological process of repair.

If you’re feeling slow, foggy, or tired this week, I have good news: there’s nothing wrong with you. In fact, you’re doing everything right according to nature. You are just wintering.

Here are three examples of how nature uses the cold to build the future—and how we can adopt a few pages of her playbook.

1. The Apple Tree: Counting the Cold

On the farm, nature and farmers alike live by a concept called “Chill Hours.”

We tend to think trees just “shut off” when the temperature drops. In reality, they’re actively counting. Apple trees have a strict biological requirement to endure a specific number of hours (usually 800 to 1,000) between 32° and 45°F (0° and 7°C.)

If they don’t get those hours—if the winter is too warm or too short—the hormone that suppresses blooming won’t break down. They literally cannot produce fruit in the spring unless they have rested enough in the winter.

The lesson? The productivity of the harvest is biologically impossible without the stillness of the winter. You aren’t losing time by resting; you’re banking your Chill Hours for when the light and warmth of spring return.

2. The Arctic Ground Squirrel: Renovating the Brain

If you’ve felt a bit of “brain fog” lately, you’re in good company.

When the Arctic Ground Squirrel hibernates, their body temperature drops below freezing, and they essentially disconnects their neural pathways. Their brain synapses wither and retract—like pruning a tree—to save energy.

This sounds destructive, but it’s actually a renovation. Research shows that when they wake up, their brains undergo a massive “regrowth” phase. They regenerate those connections stronger and more efficient than before, similar to how muscle fibers when broken down by exercise knit themselves back together when we rest to become stronger.

The brain fog isn’t a failure; it’s a remodel. Sometimes the brain needs to disconnect to clear the clutter and build new pathways for the year ahead.

3. The Black Bear: The Miracle Healers

Finally, there’s the bear. We know they enter a deep sleep in the winter, but what happens while they sleep is the real miracle.

Research from the University of Minnesota found a stunning capability in hibernating black bears: they are super-healers. If a bear goes into hibernation with a wound, the bear will heal faster and with less scarring during their dormant state than they would during the active summer months.

Even with a metabolism running at a fraction of normal speed, their immune system shifts into a specialized repair mode.

It’s a powerful reminder: We heal best when we rest.

A Permission Slip for January

If nature—in all her wisdom and efficiency—requires a season of dormancy to prepare for fruit, rewire the brain, and heal wounds, why do we think we are exempt? Why do we insist on pushing through when what we really need is the sleep and rest that will help us be better versions of ourselves in the long-run? Sleep and rest are powerful tools. Use them. Appreciate them. Luxuriate in them. Your future self will thank you.

So, if you’re struggling to get into high gear this winter, stop. Take a nap. Read a book. Laugh with friends. Eat nourishing food. Breathe. Let the ground freeze knowing you’re giving yourself your necessary Chill Hours. Spring will be here soon enough. Don’t rush it. Rest.