Word of the Week: Biophilic

Admittedly, this post is more like “Word of the Year” than “Word of the Week,” since I haven’t written a “Word of the Week” post in much, much longer than a week–but better late than never, as they say.

On Friday, February 7, I attended a presentation that was part of the annual Richmond

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Dr. Tim Beatley presents a plaque to the Mayor’s Office commemorating Richmond’s commitment to becoming a biophilic city.

Environmental Film Festival (it runs through this Friday, February 14, so show Mother Earth some Valentine’s Day love and attend if you’re in the area!). The presentation was called “Singapore: Biophilic City.” Two elements of it caught my attention: 1) the new, unfamiliar word “biophilic” and 2) the fact that my city, Richmond, recently committed to becoming one of 22 biophilic cities worldwide. I needed to know what the word meant in general, but also what it meant for my community–and for myself as a resident.

The program opened with Dr. Tim Beatley asking the audience, by show of hands, to indicate how many people were familiar with or had ever used the word “biophilic.” A sparse smattering of hands went up, and Dr. Beatley explained that “biophilia,” which contains the root “phil” (love) literally translates to “a love of nature” or “a love of life.” A biophilic city, then, is one that focuses on and incorporates nature into the urban environment, as opposed to isolating its citizens from the natural world. A biophilic city recognizes nature as its core. As Dr. Beatley said, “Nature is not optional,” and a biophilic city recognizes the important role nature plays in, well, everything–even as we as a species seem to be distancing ourselves from it with technology and increasingly living our lives inside.

“Biophilia,” which contains the root “phil” (love) literally translates to “a love of nature” or “a love of life.”

In addition to Richmond, Portland, Oregon, is part of the Biophilic Cities Network. In the film screening shown during the program Friday, one of Portland’s residents explained, “We share the urban landscape with wildlife,” in reference to the city’s successful efforts to reinforce and preserve a school’s old chimney to provide a roosting place for swifts. Watching the swifts fly in and prepare to roost for the night has become a major community event in Portland, helping its residents feel more in harmony with and connected to nature–more biophilic.

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Part of Richmond’s plan to become biophilic includes making sure every resident lives within a ten-minute walk to a park. Above, my littles, Nacho (left) and Soda (right) enjoy a nature hike on the Buttermilk/North Bank trail, the Richmond skyline in the background.

In Atlanta, Georgia, a biophilic charter school engages in what they call “nature-based learning.” The school’s administration said, “We have to be prepared for whatever nature brings for us.” The students keep all kinds of clothing and gear, from rain boots to winter coats, in their lockers. They don’t hide from the weather; they work with it. As one of my favorite sayings goes: “There is no bad weather, only bad clothing.”

The Atlanta charter school doesn’t stop at teaching students to work with the weather, not against it; they also aspire to teach children to appreciate all forms of nature and life. Teach children to “appreciate the life of an ant,” the administration said, and you can teach them to more deeply appreciate human life.

As the word “biophilic” indicates, pillars of a city committed to this mission include fostering a strong connection with nature and creating a sense of our place within nature. Despite our iPhones and climate-controlled classrooms and cars and laptops, we cannot get away from nature, because we are part of it. We have no choice. We are not separate from nature, and, according to Dr. Beatley, “Contact with nature is a birthright.”

At the close of the program, Dr. Beatley challenged all in attendance to find a way to use the word “biophilic” in our conversations and lives. This blog post is one of my attempts–and now, I leave you with the same charge: use the word “biophilic” and spread the word (pun intended) about our continued, inescapable connection the the natural world.

Now, go forth! You have been linguistically empowered!

 

 

 

 

Contest Window Open for Outdoor Writers and Photographers

It’s the beginning of a new year, and lots of us are looking for ways to start the year off strong. We’re setting goals–exercise goals and weight loss goals and money-saving goals. We writers are also setting goals–word count goals and deadline goals and submission goals. One way to kick off the year strong is by entering some of your writing in contests. Currently, the entry window is open for the Virginia Outdoor Writers Association (VOWA) annual contests. These contests invite high school students, college students, and professionals to submit for consideration their best writing and/or photography centering on the great outdoors. High school students could receive up to $300 for their writing and up to $150 for their photography, while college students could win up to $500 for their writing and photography.

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I present awards at the 2017 VOWA Awards Luncheon and Annual Meeting.

 

An awards ceremony is scheduled for March 28, 2020, in Charlottesville, Virginia. Here, winners and their guests will be treated to a delicious luncheon, guest speakers, networking opportunities, and the awarding of their monetary prize(s) and plaques. An overview of each contest is provided below.

VOWA High School Contest

This contest is open to high school students across the commonwealth of Virginia, including homeschooled students.

Deadline

February 15, 2020

Theme

A Memorable Outdoor Experience

Prizes

Writing Prizes

First Place: $300.00

Second Place: $150.00

Third Place: $75.00

Photography Prizes

First Place: $150.00

Second Place: $100.00

Third Place: $50.00

More details available here.

VOWA Collegiate Contest

This competition is open to any student enrolled at a Virginia public or private college or university, including two-year colleges. Students who are Virginia residents enrolled at out-of-state institutions are also eligible to enter.

Deadline

February 15, 2020

Theme

A Memorable Outdoor Experience or Special Interest

Prizes

Writing Prizes

First Place: $500.00

Second Place: $200.00

Third Place: $100.00

Cooperative Living Magazine Award: $100.00 and publication in the magazine

Photography Prizes

First Place: $500.00

Second Place: $200.00

Third Place: $100.00

More details available here.

VOWA Excellence-in-Craft

This contest is open to all Virginia residents. Non-residents who wish to enter are welcome to do so, providing their material is specific to Virginia.

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My friend, Ashley Unger (right) and I (left) display our awards after the 2018 VOWA Awards Luncheon and Annual Meeting.

Virginia residents who are first-time entrants in the contest will receive a free, one-year membership to VOWA, as well as an invitation to attend the annual meeting and awards luncheon on March 28, 2020, at no charge.

Deadline

February 1, 2020

Writing Categories

Writing published during 2019 can be submitted to any of the following categories:

  • Blog Post
  • Feature Story
  • Newsletter
  • Newspaper or Magazine Column
  • Book.

Visual Arts Categories

Visual artwork published or produced during 2019 can be submitted to any of the following categories:

  • Published Photography
  • Unpublished Photography
  • Illustration
  • Film or Video.

Special Awards Categories

Mossy Creek Fly Fishing

Writing submitted to this category should focus on fly fishing. One winner will receive a guided fishing trip with Mossy Creek Fly Fishing.

Fly Fishers of Virginia Conservation Award

Writing submitted to this category should emphasize conservation. One winner will receive a $100 cash prize.

Appalachian Mountain Advocates Conservation Writing Award

This award is for best conservation writing. The winners earns a $100 cash prize.

More details available here.

VOWA is an organization very near and dear to my heart. We at VOWA combine two of my beloveds: writing and nature. Our main mission includes “to improve ourselves and our craft and increase our knowledge and understanding of the outdoors.” We also “pledge to support conservation of natural resources.” If you want to help spread awareness of our natural world and its beauty, as well as meet like-minded people and improve your craft, I hope you’ll consider entering this year’s contest–and spread the word! Happy writing, and good luck!

Book Review: Yellowstone Has Teeth, by Marjane Ambler

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My husband, sister, brother-in-law, several friends, and I were fortunate enough to spend an entire day in Yellowstone in February.

I picked up Marjane Ambler‘s memoir Yellowstone Has Teeth at the Yellowstone National Park Store in the Bozeman Airport in Bozeman, Montana, back in February when my husband and I made the trip out west with my sister, her husband, and a few friends. Though my aim was to read it before our day-long winter tour of Yellowstone, I kept so busy hiking, snowshoeing, site-seeing, and socializing, that I didn’t begin the book until my husband and I were back home in Virginia. In at least one way, it worked out for the best: Reading this book after my return home allowed me to seemingly extend the trip. Each time I opened its pages, I found myself transported back to the wintry clime of Yellowstone in the snow.

One mark of a really good book is that upon finishing it, you feel a sort of sorrow. Some irrational part of your being hoped you’d be able to go on reading the book indefinitely, despite the dwindling pages behind your bookmark. This was the way I felt when I finished Yellowstone Has Teeth. Luckily, I have a whole cache of books waiting for me to read them, but that was my only consolation. I felt a nagging sadness when I closed the book for the final time. But this was not just because the book was behind me; it was also because (spoiler alert!), as I was finishing the book, Ambler was finishing the cherished chapter of her life that was living in the park. Ending the book this way of course made logical sense, but it was also artful and purposeful. Reading about the end of her time in Yellowstone as I approached the end of my time reading the book resulted in an emotional impact that could not have been achieved had she ended it some other way. Our feelings ran parallel: She was loathe for that chapter of her life to end, and while I commiserated with that sentiment, I also experienced my own grief about ending the book.

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At the base of a mountain and on the banks of the Madison River, bison use their noses to shove snow out of the way in an attempt to reach the grass underneath.

If the book’s ending made an impact, its pages did as well. The book explores many intriguing and important issues, including man’s relationship to the natural world, women’s changing role in a male-dominated profession, rugged individualism and independence versus the need for community and interdependence, and man’s futile attempts to control nature, to name a few.

Ambler also does a superb job of illustrating the juxtaposition between the “civilized world,” and life in the park, in statements such as this one: “I read the animal tracks in the snow instead of a newspaper to discover the news of the day” (30). A page later, she describes the way her husband, Terry, would listen to the traffic report in Los Angeles as he drove his groomer down the snow-covered and deserted park roadways. As he heard the radio announcer advise LA motorists to find an alternate route because “‘An accident has stopped all westbound traffic on the Santa Monica Freeway,'” her husband “smiled at the contrast on his roadway. His headlights illumined only bison tracks breaking the surface of the newly fallen snow” (31).

The book explores many intriguing and important issues, including man’s relationship to the natural world, women’s changing role in a male-dominated profession, rugged individualism and independence versus the need for community and interdependence, and man’s futile attempts to control nature, to name a few.

In addition, Ambler’s imagery sticks with you. When writing about the historic fires of 1988, she describes the sky in the following way: “…huge cumulous clouds…boiled over Two Ocean Plateau, the clouds stained red from the fires below, like cauliflower boiled in blood” (148).

In short, I am so glad Ambler sat down and wrote this book. It provided so much food for thought, and so many insights. I can only imagine what a gift it must be to so well–so intimately–know a place so well-known and infamous. Ambler helped me imagine it a little bit better. Now, there are so many people to whom I want to recommend this book. This week, it will be in the mail on its way to Rocky Mountain National Park, where I hope one of my best friend’s best friends, a female ranger in the park, will enjoy it.