Sedentary Travelogue #14: Arrival in the North Land

Well, it's about time I got around to sharing my thoughts in the Sedentary Travelogues on this latest and rather dramatic move. Given that it's not totally clear how long we'll stay in Detroit, much less in this apartment, I begin to question the title of these missives. At first glance, there's not much sedentary about it at all.

On deeper reflection, however, the name seems all too fitting. At least it accurately describes the fundamental issues that face me currently. While I do feel like my journey into an ever deepening consciousness of the ecologically-minded life is an adventure, I'm not much of your standard adventuring type; I'm a homebody. I have friends who travel lightly and make their way across the country frequently, taking in new vistas and meeting so many interesting people along the way. Clear adventurers are they. Not me. I travel to see family.... Occasionally in my life I have travelled for business or activist work and once in a while travel a little ways up or down or over by a state to camp for a few days. Not counting family events, I've made vacation trips maybe 8 times since I graduated high school, though that estimate may be high.

I stay at home. I putter around the apartment. I walk around the neighborhood. I bike places. These are not the habits of an adventurer. [Granted, cyclers can fit the standard roving patterns of most adventurers. Timothy Jean herself first ever arrived at Dancing Rabbit after biking most of the way from Ann Arbor, some 1500 miles!] Yet I am very much aware of being very "out there" in my social circles, living habits and perceptions of the world. This is the sort of adventuring that appeals to me, specifically the sort that requires staying put and really learning and knowing an area deeply and intimately. I like to sink my roots deep.

That is the adventure I am currently trying to embark on. Detroit is where I was born, but I have not lived here for 24 years. And those have been an eventful 24 years for the character and nature of this city. I have not lived in Michigan for most of my adult life, having moved out when I graduated college. So here I am, a bunch of roots left to pick up after many years, another bunch recently pulled up from Missouri, others still being nurtured there from afar....

Bigger scale: I start feeling settled only in the past few weeks - about the same time that I also am reading a history of the great lakes region that starts around 14,000 years ago. Aahhhh.... roots. Who needs to travel?

[Can't recommend the book enough, by the way, for anyone living in the region: The Late, Great Lakes by William Ashworth - it only starts that far back and quickly moves through the fur trade, fisheries, lumber trade and more into the 1980s - very readable and frighteningly important.]

Smaller scale: Detroit, and specifically the area I live in are fascinating. It is inescapable on any given day that Detroit is a city past its prime, at least in terms of population and economy, which are pretty major standards to most. I was always fascinated by Europe after the Fall of the Roman Empire and with post-apocolyptic stories. The analogies are easy to make and rather well stare one in the face, whether you want to make them or not. Empty buildings, boarded up or with falling in roofs abound. The city is talking about tearing down over 100,000 of them this year alone! And they're usually beautiful. Turn of the century to early 30's brick houses with interesting turns and window arches. And no windows, sagging porches or no roofs. I live off of a 5 lane one-way street that has enough traffic to warrant two lanes at its busiest. This is not uncommon. And empty lots all over.

I live between New Center and the downtown area, two of the more developed spots, and yet there are clear open views to both. It's not a tall city, like Chicago. Lines of sight are open. These wide boulevards and empty lots are a big part of what creates the sense of desolation and isolation that strikes many folks at certain times of day, though at other times the hussle and bustle drives this sense to the background.

What is most important about all of this is that I do not find it desolate at all. It makes me absolutely in love with the place. As a culture, we Americans mostly seem to be caught between wanting green space and wanting all of the economic, social and cultural advantages of city life. Detroit is poised such that is could make this happen in a way few other cities could approach any time soon. It's still a big city (around 1 million) but one has a strong sense that an individual can easily make a difference in helping things along. Given the whole city's desire to lose its air of failure and struggle, one even feels encouraged to try to make a difference. This is a far cry from the rushing torrents of New York, LA or Chicago that give one a feeling of swimming upstream, fighting inertia all the way. Some of that torrent is commerce and city culture, but much of it is social apathy. Maybe apathy has a hold of Detroit too, but I haven't felt it yet. It seems quiet, much like the green woods (now disappearing) all around South East Michigan that the city has been abandoned for (largely, but by no means exclusively by it's white residents, but that's whole other story that I'm still just beginning to explore). It feels ready for nature to reestablish itself a bit. Of course, it's lacking much of the basic biodiversity needed to do that on its own, but even so, it's working on it. The dilapidated structures that look like failures to many urbanites, often look like refreshing examples of green space to those of us who are inspired by that. An overgrown lot, instead of an eyesore, bursts out like a wealth of biota ignoring any supposed suppression by concrete.

And here I am in the middle of it. Of course I am aware of the potentials of new life, especially as our child prepares to burst forth into the world (the little one already seems to be doing its best to burst out now, pushing and kicking and rolling and stretching like no one's business - as though it's ready to be born now, but just hasn't figured out where the exit is yet). Of course, I am also aware of the presence of death and mortality in this fallen city. Specifically, it's an everpresent reminder of the fact that all life requires other life to die for it and all death represents an open space for some other life.

And here I am in the middle of it. Coming from truly rural life at Dancing Rabbit into one of the larger cities of the United States, a country known for it's huge cities, I've made quite a switch. Yet, I'm still the same ecology-nut. For many people, moving to the country to live in tune with nature makes sense. Trying to "live in tune with nature" while living amidst the tunes of concrete and steel is harder to conceive.

That's a big part of my life now. Imagining and creating an ecologically-sustainable life in the city. This is, in practice, not so much stranger than such a goal in countryside. Cities are often made for more efficient use of resources. It feels like an important challenge. I've even started a new article for the Dancing Rabbit newsletter to share ideas about this, but my thoughts are far too frequent for a short quarterly article. We may stay here or we may not, but being connected to the place I live is essential for me, whether temporary or not.

Goodness knows I ramble enough in here to get my "travelling" desires met. That's all for now. Sorry I haven't written more sooner to you all. Though I may be distant in my communication efforts, I'm often thinking of all the people, ideas, humor and experiences I've shared with my friends.

'Til we laugh together again,
Jacob

P.S. It seems a little odd to me to have spent so much of this entry talking about things outside of me -- Michigan history, Detroit, etc. Yet, in some ways that's the whole point of place-based consciousness. The idea that somehow we *aren't* intricately bound up with our place is the fallacy. This fallacy is not just inaccurate, but I would argue that it's actually approaching being dangerous. If we are dependent on the place around us (which even the most isolated of us are), then we are very much dependent on the health of our surroundings. Ignoring that only means that we are choosing to gamble on the hope that we won't be broadsided with some unpleasant surprises later. My hats off to you, my friends, who seem to actually care about the world around you. I hope my ramblings do not venture too far into the realm of rantings....

Cheers!

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