Monthly Archives: May 2011

… mixing domestic, wild, and barnyard metaphors (because organization’ll do that to even a river).

Remember when our Dear Organizational Guru asked:

“How does a river organize itself?”

The river doesn’t have a brain, a laptop or any one central intelligence. And yet it ALWAYS creates something supremely gorgeous and functional.

The river’s secret…

… is what mathematicians and scientists call self-organization. Rather than sprouting from one primary unit, a river’s patterns and structures are created by local interactions of components in a way that’s:

  • parallel — all of the local interactions occur at the same time — and
  • distributed — no one element coordinates the process.

Sweet Example: Point-Bars and Pools

The structure —

Stream meanders develop sediment bars inside curves and pools with cut banks on the outside. You can see how this pattern develops throughout a river system :

Stream Type C — Blue River, Colorado (stock photo)

How it works —

The point bar is underwater during peak flow, at which time it shuttles sediment like a conveyor belt. As high water recedes, the river drops most of its sediment load, and the bar sits exposed… until the next spring flow covers the bar and mobilizes the sediment once more. This cycle means plants can’t really root on active point bars.

The battle against nature —

It sounds silly to fight a river’s self-organization, but pretend YOU own a lovely little piece of paradise. Imagine that one side of your stream bank keeps reverting to bare ground and the other side to a vertical drop-off into a deep pool. You might try to “stabilize” and “beautify” the point bar with transplanted willows like someone did with this well-intended but misguided restoration effort:


See how the creek scoured around the willow transplants? Interference always requires exhausting maintenance because the creek continues its natural self-organizing behavior.

But even worse, if the interferer perserveres and “succeeds,” the artificially imposed organization creates a nightmarish domino effect.

For example, if you armor a point bar with vegetation, then you prevent the river from moving sediment across the bar. Instead, the river actually builds the bar higher which narrows the river’s width and down-cuts the river bed — destabilizing the river’s profile far upstream and down.

A solution that will L.A.S.T. —

1. Look.

See intrinsic patterns and structure (aka reality) rather than imagining how the world “should” look.

2. Acknowledge .

Say to yourself, “Wow! This thing must be self-organizing around natural principles!”

3. Surrender.

Decide you like the natural way — love yourself some bare-naked point-bar!

4. Take a page from nature’s book.

If there’s an instability you really DO want to fix, like the raw bank on the other side of your imaginary creek (and the creek pictured above),  then look for OTHER natural principles to help you out. For example, the would-be-restorers might have noticed that banks erode more slowly to the degree they are:

  • separated from the low flow channel by a low “bench,”
  • well vegetated, and
  • at a less steep slope.

In the above photo, you can see they DID build and sod a low bench next to the eroding bank on the opposite bank. Yay! It would have been even better if they had sloped the vertical bank and sown some native grasses on the incline, but it might still heal over time (I’ll take some photos this summer and let you know).

Sour Example: Shoes, Pens, and Hair-ties

The structure —

Shoes clutter the corner of my home’s entry; pens litter the coffee table; my daughter’s hair-ties tangle into a nest on her bedside table.

How it works —

Residents — apparently raised in barns, by wolves – drop stuff WHERE THEY STAND WHEN FINISHED (WTSWF).

The battle —

I relentlessly nag advocate for a more civilized principle: stow items at their POU (Point of Use). Yes my ‘advocacy” exhausts us all and has a nightmarish domino effect.

LASTT’ing success

1. Look.

Okay…I see PILES OF STUFF. Hmm. But they ARE sorted by type of stuff! Interesting.

2. Acknowledge.

The house IS self-organizing in a parallel and distributed pattern resulting from the local interaction of elements according to a natural principle (WTSWF). Or should I say WTF.

3. Surrender.

Fine.

BUT I don’t like the messy vibe! And if Mama Wolf ain’t happy… it needs fixing.

4. Take a page from nature.

I notice that sometimes barn-raised wolves will put things in a container if the container is both WTSWF and pre-seeded with like objects. So I put a handsome, sturdy basket in the hallway and salt it with some sandals; find a cute pen canister for the coffee table; and throw some old chipped, cup-less saucer on my daughter’s nightstand because that place is hopeless anyway.

5. Take as many pages as you need!

Since stuff is not at its designated POU when the baby wolves want it (i.e, in their closet, desk, or bathroom), I could apply some other natural principles like my favorite: “if you want to act like a barn animal then you can run around like a chicken with its head cut off finding your stuff in the morning”

But sometimes the natural consequences principle feels too harsh considering that IF they were raised in a barn by wolves AND I’m their mother, then… what does that make me? At fault, of course! In the midst of maternal guilt fits, I might pity the hapless lambs, invest in another set of containers to place at the POU, and swap them out when the WTSWF cups runneth over. But that’s entirely dependent on my whims — one of the perks of being the alpha wolf! It’s always your own call, my fellow river wolves. Just don’t fight nature, especially your own. XXX

…salting inside.

“All streams flow into the sea…” Ecclesiastes 1:7

All things end in the Tao as rivers flow into the sea.” — Tao Te Ching # 32

Love is like a river running straight back to the sea”– “Love is Like a River”

The sages agree:

King Solomon, Lao Tzu (via translator Stephen Mitchell), AND Stevie Nicks define the sea as that place where the rivers end.

The sages apparently never visited Nevada.

I’ve lived in lands where rivers never make it to the ocean – confined, arid, lands where rivers haven’t had the time or fluid energy to bust through surrounding mountains. Those rivers terminate right inside their homeland, in the lowest spot they can find.

Almost 18% of our planet’s landforms drain not into the inter-connected ocean system but into such endorheic (“flowing within”) basins:

 [Note each ocean’s drainage area is color-coordinated, and endorheic basins are grey. “Why not sunshiny yellow?” I know, but still this map is just so cool.]

Don’t cry tears for the water.

River water escapes a basin eventually, either percolating into the soil or evaporating into the atmosphere. When you live like a water molecule, you have no “final destination.” You just keep moving through the hydrologic cycle.

Rather cry for the salt.

A river is not solely water. It’s also the load carried by that water – rocky, muddy bits of earth. These minerals remain behind when the water re-cycles, hence, like the ocean, basins are salty.

Photo from solarnavigator.net

It’s probably a duck.

Wait a second — if it looks like a sea (the lowest thing around), acts like a sea (receives rivers), AND tastes like a sea… then I say each basin, no matter how small, isolated, or even seasonally dry, IS a SEA.

“Inland sea” describes the noble sights pictured above more fittingly than the pedestrian terms basin, salt lake, or terminal lake (though not as prettily or accurately as the Spanish playa which evokes beach umbrellas, beach drinks embellished with umbrellas, and, of course, surfboards!). Worse yet are labels we assign intermittent/dry basins: Pan. Flat. Hole. Sink.

The grimness is somewhat understandable.

Humans can’t drink the brine of Devil’s Lake. And salting the earth WAS an ancient form of warfare for GOOD REASON: nothing grows in Death Valley.

Yet…

… we value salt. For years it’s served as currency, shaped trade routes, established cities, sparked wars, and rescued enhanced my cooking. Why?

Salt makes everything taste more like its essential self.

And authenticity is not only yummy but healing:

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.” — Isak Dinesen

How astonishing that Jesus of Nazareth proclaimed — to mere humans — “you are the salt of the earth.” Us? WE make earthly life more.. earthy and lively?

How troubling that he went on to say…

“… but if that salt has lost its flavor, it ain’t got much in its favor.”

I’ve puzzled over this teaching since the very first time I saw Godspell. (I know the NRSV translates Matthew’s gospel as asking “How can its saltiness be restored?” but if Broadway writers can figure out how to rhyme it, I suspect the original guy could too.)

According to Mark’s gospel, Jesus provided his own answer:

“Have salt in yourselves.”

How can we possibly do THAT? The Mystery feels so much larger than us:

The river is within us, the sea is all about us.” — TS Eliot, Four Quartets

Perhaps our inland seas re-salt us.

Perhaps visiting those places inside — places where our world drains into frightening, gorgeous plains layered with crystallized burdens — releases our essential taste for savoring the earth, all its inhabitants, ourselves. One another. Delicious.

… only one thing among many.

Standing in a river, you feel good.

You sense the world differently.

 

Standing in a river, you swap vision with the hawk overhead and see you are only one thing in one river surrounded by one land… among many.

The ease and the kinship would be enough.

But it’s what comes next, like the second stanza of Milosz’s poem, which surprises. After standing in a river, you step into clear, creative service.

“Serving what purpose?” you used to cry.

It doesn’t matter to you now — you do what ripens things. You know how because you follow the glow, delighting always.

And if you lose sight, you go stand in the river.