Reflections of an urban dweller- the beauty of place

Living in a vibrant, walkable neighborhood is simply amazing. It is difficult to articulate precisely why. I know that I have always embraced the idea of a walkable neighborhood- particularly one where owning a vehicle is not strictly necessary. Vibrant, walkable areas are awesome. But why?

I have lived in Downtown Cleveland for over 2 months now. The experience has been nothing short of amazing. I'm in a reflective mood this evening, so I feel compelled to write about why I think such neighborhoods rock- spoken from the heart of one who experiences the awesomeness on a daily basis.

This evening, I decided to go for a bike ride towards Edgewater Park- one of my favorite places to visit. Not only is it simply beautiful, but it is a vibrant place where something is always happening. It also has an awesome view of the Downtown Cleveland skyline. Perched atop a hill, taking in this view is like watching over the city. There is certainly the chaos of the city occurring "down there", but atop this hill, you are removed from it all. This is a powerful metaphor for me. Whenever I get caught up in the chaos that is life, I place myself back at the top of this hill, above the chaos, removed from the chaos. I am above the chaos, both literally and figuratively. 

The aforementioned view at Edgewater Park 

As I was pedaling away, the cool autumn breeze smacking against my face, I felt that feeling you get when you know rain is coming. The wind starts to pick up, the air gets that pre-rain smell, and the sky darkens. 

In suburbia, this would be chaos. How will I get back to my car to get myself out of this downpour? Man, I shouldn't have come out. This rain is going to ruin everything. 

In my case, there is no reason to worry. If you sense the impending rain, all you have to do is head toward the nearest bus stop, surely less than a 5 minute ride away, and hop on a bus. Safe from the weather, I can head home. Having this option- the option to go home using a different transportation than what was use to leave home- is something beautiful, and part of the reason why these vibrant areas are so amazing. 

I was able to dodge the rain. As I arrived at Edgewater, I could hear what sounded like the ocean. When the wind is sufficiently high, Lake Erie becomes an ocean of sorts, with waves crashing against the shoreline. The beach was rather empty, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw people surfing... on Lake Erie.

There is something about this moment that brought me immense joy. It was a beautiful sight to see. I can't really put my finger on it, but I think it has something to do with the fact that I was observing life in its purest form. People came out here to surf, in Ohio. They made the best of what they had. They didn't have the luxury of the ocean nearby, but they made it work. I sat on a bench and watched them. They seemed to be having the time of their lives. 

This moment got me thinking about how beautiful it is to observe humans in their natural habitat, doing whatever it is they do. 

I am a huge fan of peoplewatching. I can't imagine I am the only one who feels this way, because I think peoplewatching reflects human nature. Humans are social creatures- we crave social interaction. Indeed, we need it to survive. We are the only species that falls in love in the way we do. This lifelong companionship is something we all long for. Peoplewatching allows us to observe pure humanity. It allows us to realize we are part of something bigger than ourselves. When you are immersed in such vibrancy, you internalize it. It's hard to not have a smile on your face when you are watching humans being humans. 

When you are behind the wheel of a car, we don't get to observe humans being humans. We don't get to see life in its purest form. All we see is two tons of steel. When you're in a car, everyone else is an idiot- we treat each other horribly the walls of steel. It's not good for us to be absolutely awful to other humans, even if you are protected by this steel. Each person on the road contributes nothing to the vibrancy of the place- just more traffic, just another moron that might cut you off, just another potential cause of traffic congestion.

Perhaps auto commuters could learn a thing or two from these birds

Every day, I ride either the bus or train to work. Since the trains and buses come according to a timetable, I see many of the same faces each day. 

Until a few weeks ago, when I worked at another building than where I do currently, I always rode the bus to work. I always saw this same guy, call him Jimmy, waiting at the bus stop. We always said hello to each other, exchanging a smile in the process. Seeing the same people every day, even if you do not know them particularly well, brings great comfort. It becomes part of your routine- part of what makes you comfortable. This interaction, albeit trivial in nature, feels extremely "human".

I know how much comfort seeing Jimmy brings me because if a day comes when he isn't at the bus stop, I wonder where he is. I think to myself "I hope he is alright". Humans long to be loved. We long for someone to wonder why aren't home at the usual time. We long for someone to be thinking of us, to care about us. I like to think someone would wonder where I am, if I'm alright, if I wasn't at the bus stop one day.

You don't get this commuting by car. You don't get anyone who cares about where you are. In fact, everyone on the road probably would rather you not be there. Nobody wonders if you're alright. Nobody even notices if you aren't there. This is truly saddening. Our humanity is masked behind the walls of steel. It's no wonder automobile commutes are associated with depression.

When living in a walkable community, things that used to be annoyances now are not. Let's say I am cooking some spaghetti for dinner, but tragically realize I don't have any sauce. In car-centric suburbia, I must now waste at least a half hour driving to the store to get sauce. I always found this extremely frustrating.

Now, if I need sauce, I spend 5 minutes walking to the corner grocery store. I get to see people along the way. I get to experience humanity. I get to see people walking to dinner, running to catch a bus, headed to a Guardians game, taking their dog for a stroll. Being a part of humanity is extremely comforting. People smile at me, some even say hello. You are noticed. You are getting that interaction you so long for. You are not an annoyance to people like you are on the road. 

I guess what I am trying to say is that all this vibrancy, all this joy one feels, contributes to a strong sense of place. Each place you go has value to you. The bus stop was a place where I got to see Jimmy. Edgewater holds a special place in my heart. Some of the most vibrant images I have in my head are the view from Edgewater and this bus stop because they mean something special to me. They are a part of me. The grocery store is no longer a place I frustratingly walk into when I need a jar of pasta sauce- no longer a place I loathe visiting. Now it is just the place to help me out when I'm in a pinch.

Cities are human-centric beings, and until post World War II, they were always build at a human scale. Indeed, we would not have built cities if this wasn't the case. Urban life resonates strongly with what it means to be human. They allow us to carry out life's functions, get the social interaction we crave, and have fun. We need more places like this. We need to restore our humanity.

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