This is a photo of pure potential and a crazy dream. 12 tree saplings in their youngest and most vulnerable state: 3 eastern redbuds, 2 sargent crabapples, 2 washington hawthorns, 3 white flowering dogwoods, and 2 crapemyrtles. They all begin as a single twig with wispy roots.
The next time you’re looking at a fully grown tree, consider all the energy, effort, and time they took to transform themselves. If you’re thinking of doing something new or growing in a new direction, think of a tree. If they can grow from a fragile shoot into a towering figure who provides shade, clean air, food, and a home for so many species, who stands tall in the face of difficulty, then you can grow into who you want to be.
Over the next few months, I’ll be looking after these little ones in the hopes of giving them to my Brooklyn neighbors to plant in their yards when they’re a bit bigger and stronger. I’m sure there will be many lessons in this botanical endeavor. For now, these are the words they’re speaking to me: surround yourself with love and nourishment, and see how you flourish.
Water bears look like works of science fiction. The microscopic, 8-legged 1,300 species of water bears (tardigrades) are alive and well. Their remarkable abilities to survive and thrive in harsh conditions make them seem even more improbable. They’re one of the most resilient lifeforms that’s ever lived.
When I had 6 weeks of daily radiation to treat cancer, I thought a lot about the perseverance of water bears. The technicians would position me on the table, then close the heavy door behind them as they left the room to protect themselves from the radiation. Click. Through a small window, they’d watched me, alone, unmoving, exposed on a table with no protection from the radiation blasting my body. I imagined myself as a tardigrade, opening to the light and radiation, absorbing it to kill any microscopic cancer cells floating around my body. I would think of Rumi’s quote, “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”
By the end of week six, I had a painful burn the size of a baseball in the middle of my chest. “What would a tardigrade do with a burn like this?”, I wondered. They’d tend to what needed tending. So, that’s what I did. I changed dressings and applied the medication twice a day. I meditated on my wound, imagining it closing and healing. It was painful and frightening to have a wound like that, but like so much along my cancer journey, it passed. To my amazement and my doctors’, it healed in 2 weeks. Today it’s only a few freckles and the tattoo that marks the focus of the radiation beam, the place where the light entered me and healed me.
As we consider how to create a world resilient to climate change impacts, again I’m thinking of tardigrades. How can we withstand hardship, quickly and completely fixing what breaks? How can we endure? Nature-based solutions to our most dire challenges are found all around us if only we look, listen, and seek to understand. In a world where we constantly navigate change and manage difficulty, I want to be a tardigrade — repairing myself, my ecosystem, and all beings with whom I share it.
The wonders of nature amaze me every day, and today a piece of natural news left me in awe. A paper was just published in the journal Nature about an orangutan who was observed self-medicating with remarkable effects that even trained medical doctors would have trouble reproducing.
In Sumatra, a 35-year-old orangutan known to researchers as Rakus had a large, deep, open wound on his face close to his eye. To look at it even made me wince, and I’m not at all squeamish about medical issues! With his teeth, he ground yellow root, an herb he rarely ate that has anti-inflammatory and anti-bacterial properties. He then applied the yellow root paste to his facial wound. In several days, it scabbed over. A little over a month later, it was barely noticeable with no sign of infection. (The images of Rakus above are from the paper in Nature.)
How could Rakus possibly act as his own doctor and healer? Where did he learn this yellow root technique? Scientists don’t know yet. While other animals have been observed in the wild tending to their injuries and the injuries of others, some even administering self-care and preventative-care, this was the first time an animal was observed medicinally treating a wound and with remarkable success.
There is so much we don’t know nor understand about the natural world. This is one of the many reasons why conservation is so vital for the health of people and our planet. Nature-based solutions to what ails us are everywhere, and to allow us to learn from them we must conserve the ecosystems where they occur. Perhaps Rakus has shown us a new medication that we could use to treat human wounds. He and his species are sentient, thoughtful beings who hurt and heal just as we do, deserve respect and concern, and have a right to survive and thrive.
This week, I had my first Brooklyn beach day of 2024 at Coney Island! Since moving from the Upper West Side to Brooklyn almost a year ago, I’ve discovered a number of new joys in New York City. One of the biggest has been Coney Island — named one of the best 25 beaches in the U.S. in 2024 by Travel+Leisure Magazine. Coney Island is a 20-minute subway ride from my apartment. In addition to the beach, there’s a boardwalk loaded with delicious food and drinks, rides, games, a minor league baseball stadium, fun street art, music, city park land, and a load of characters from every walk of life. I look forward to spending many days here this summer.
Fun Coney Island and NYC beach facts: – How Coney Island got its name is widely disputed. Some theories: (1) an Irish boat captain named Peter O’Connor sailed to New York from Ireland in the late 1700s, and named Coney Island after Ireland’s Coney Island, which was and remains a mile from O’Connor’s home in County Sligo and looks remarkably similar to Brooklyn’s Coney Island save for the fact that the island in Ireland is nearly deserted and Brooklyn’s Coney Island is a magnet for locals and tourists alike. (2) The Dutch settled Manhattan in 1624 and inhabited Coney Island soon afterward. It was home to a large population of wild rabbits and the Dutch word for rabbit is “konijn”. (3) The areas was once inhabited by the Konoh, or Bear, tribe. Records from all these times are spotty or non-existent so we may never know exactly how Coney Island got its name.
Get yourself a friend like this: Ashley painted my soul dog, not once but twice, and then on her day off from her intense job went with me to Central Park to commemorate him by taking photos under his favorite cherry trees in full bloom of the paintings she painted and the felt likeness of him given to me by another sweet friend.
The locket I’m wearing has a lock of Phin’s hair in it. Phinny was certainly with us as we saw 5 dachshunds on our visit. His way of saying, “Hi, Mom! Hi, Ashley! I love you.” A pair of them, Otto and Oliver, were just 7 months old. Their dads had lost their 13-year-old dachshund, Arthur, a year before getting Otto and Oliver. “Nothing can bring the joy of your dog back as much as another dog.”
It’s been 3 months since Phinny passed away in my arms. This visit to his favorite part of the park during his favorite time of year with my dear friend did my broken heart so much good. I realize now this grief will never leave me. I’m learning how to carry it while also finding joy every day. We contain multitudes. Phinny is still teaching me. He’s always teaching me. Our love story continues.
Flowering trees in my Brooklyn neighborhood. Photo by Christa Avampato.
Yesterday I should have been inside working but the warmth and sun kept me outside most of the day. I was walking around gobsmacked by my beautiful Brooklyn neighborhood bursting with flowering trees. Cherry, apple, pink dogwood, lilac, redbud.
I’ve been thinking of buying a small home outside the city. On my walk yesterday I realized my neighborhood has everything I want and then some. Walkable, friendly neighborhood feel, plenty of green space, good public transit, 20 minutes by train to the beach and 20 minutes by train into Manhattan, delicious food, local shops. And unlike most other New York City neighborhoods, it’s mostly single-family homes. I ended up in exactly the right place, exactly where I wanted to be. So now I’m thinking about buying a home right here.
Sometimes, I wish I’d already done certain things. I wish I’d already met the love of my life, owned a home, had or created my dream job. And then I remember how important it is to trust the timing of our lives. Maybe I haven’t been ready for any of those things until now. And because none of that has materialized yet, I did lots of other things that have been wonderful in their own right. Maybe there were certain things I needed to learn first.
It may have taken longer than I would have liked to reach this point in life, but we arrive when we arrive. Maybe I had to travel through many other lives first to fully appreciate this moment, when anything and everything feels possible. I see my dog, Phineas, in all of it. He led me right to where I needed to be, and only then did he know it was okay to go. I just wish he was still here to see own home in springtime.
(Below are photos I took in my Brooklyn neighborhood. I can’t believe I live here!)
This is my first spring in my new neighborhood in Brooklyn and it’s loaded with flowering trees! I went out for a long walks over the last few days, taking in the warmth and light, the scent of flowers, and the explosion of colors. My dog, Phinny, would have loved these days. I loved them for both of us.
Cherry blossoms in historic Green-wood Cemetery, Brooklyn. Photo by Christa Avampato.
It’s hard to believe Phin passed away two months ago. I’ve been looking for a locket for a few months to carry him with me everywhere I go. On Monday, the day of the eclipse!, this one arrived. It has a blue forget-me-not flower pressed into the front. It now holds a lock of Phinny’s fur. All he ever wanted in life was to always be with me. I took him with me whenever I could (and then some!) Spiritually, he’s forever with me. Now, he’s physically with me always, too, and we’re traveling together. Our love story continues.
Me in Prospect Park, Brooklyn, wearing the locket honoring my dog, Phineas.
Today is also the anniversary of the founding of the ASPCA in New York City in 1866. Phinny prompted me to become a monthly donor almost 9 years ago for his birthday. I’m so grateful for their work and honored to support their lifesaving mission for all these years.
My soul dog, Phineas, on a healthy and happy day in Central Park, Manhattan. Photo by Christa Avampato.
It’s also national hug your dog day. I wish I could hug Phineas today, so please hug your dogs for me. They are never with us long enough no matter how long their lives are. Love every day you get with yours. Here are some blooms to brighten your Wednesday.
Cherry blossoms in Brooklyn. Photo by Christa Avampato.
Climate change could cause more earthquakes and volcanic eruptions by increasing the weight of water on the Earth’s crust from increased precipitation and glacial melt.
When glaciers melt, the water can seep into cracks in the Earth’s crust, causing them to widen and weaken.
This can lead to earthquakes, especially in areas that are already seismically active.
Climate change can also cause more volcanic eruptions by increasing the amount of magma in the Earth’s mantle.
The impact on seismic activity isn’t limited to precipitation. Remember, the determining factor is the change in the weight of water in the Earth’s crust. We must also account for the impact of climate change on the melting of glaciers as well. As the glaciers melt not only does that water seep into the Earth’s crust, but the melting glaciers also reduce the weight and pressure on the land that was under the glaciers. This release causes the land to rise, similar to a spring that was compressed and then releases once that compression is removed. When the last ice age ended ~10,000 years ago, the receding of the glaciers caused some of the land in Scotland to rise 45 meters above sea level! This kind of release can cause a spike in earthquakes, and historically some of these spikes have been severe in areas such as Scandinavia.
In short, climate change may deliver a triple threat for earthquake activity: increasing the weight of water in the Earth’s crust from both an increased amount of rainfall and rapidly melting glaciers, and the added risk to the rising of land once the weight of those glaciers lightens or disappears altogether. The interconnections between all of the Earth’s systems and features is a delicate balance. Life on Earth has benefitted from a long stretch of stability and harmony. Our exploitation of nature, particularly our addiction to the drilling for and burning of fossil fuels, has put that stability and balance in jeopardy on numerous levels, many of which we’re only just beginning to understand.
Nature is talking to us. Nature is warning us. Her voice and warnings will grow louder if we don’t listen and take action. Our artificial systems and incentives that we’ve invented in our economy and society will be no match for the wrath of nature. No amount of money nor ingenuity nor technology will protect us nor immunize us from the impacts of destroying the balance of natural systems on which we all depend.
Every action we take now to reduce warming matters. The impacts of climate change are not for some distant generation. They are happening to us right now, and they will continue to happen and increase in intensity until we realize harmony with nature is the surest path to prosperity, health, wealth, and wellbeing for all beings.
What does a sustainable New York City look like to you? I imagine lush micro gardens, biophilic architecture (a building methods that connects people with nature), rooftop farms, and clean transit, air, and water as pathways that give people, plants, and wildlife the opportunity to live side-by-side-by-side in ways that benefit all.
In biomimicry, we begin our design process by asking how nature would solve a specific problem we have with a question framed as “How would nature (the problem we want to solve)?”. My question above would be framed as “How would nature build a sustainable New York City?” This is a question that has occupied by headspace for years as I traverse through different projects and future visioning sessions.
In the spirit of an image being worth 1,000 words, I created these images with Canva Magic Studio AI to show how nature might build a sustainable New York. Is this a city you’d like to visit? Is this a city where you’d be happy to live? What are the first steps we can take now to make this our New York?
“People partner with nature”. I created this image with the help of Canva’s Magic Media AI tool
As a storyteller and sustainability advocate I focus on people who aren’t committed (yet) to protecting nature because that’s where the greatest change happens. This means I’m often faced with people who deny climate change, feel hopeless, or think technology and / or someone else will restore the planet’s health.
The entire episode is enlightening, and one point in particular helped me. No species in history, humans included, has ever been hardwired to protect the planet. They (we) are hardwired to promote the successful perpetuation of our genetics. Said another way, at their base all living things first focus on their future generations surviving and thriving. This means people aren’t naturally focused on environmental conservation. It must be intentional. It’s a skill that takes practice. Therefore, the work I’m doing with naysayers, the hopeless, and technocrats is training and re-skilling them. I’m a teacher, a guide, and learning takes times. That reframe is helping me think about my work with more compassion and patience.
Our long-term planning capabilities make us unique and distinct from other species. This doesn’t mean we’re smarter, wiser, or superior. It means we have a responsibility to be conscientious global citizens who care for each other and future generations, other species with whom we share this planet, and ecosystems that make our existence possible.
Christa Avampato 