Reasons for optimism are all around. And many are deeply embedded in the work that Architects and Designers do every day. If nothing else, the past 25 years working with design professionals have taught me that you find ways to solve problems. To elevate the human experience. I have experienced it. 

Reasons for optimism can be found in conversations with our elders and our teenagers - both equally baffling yet grounding in the wisdom they hold - albeit for different reasons. 

As I update our Architecture and Design Threads, one stands out as gaining momentum: #13 Rethinking Cities.

Sail too far into the ocean, and you might fall off the face of the Earth - or so the tale goes about how early explorers bravely sailed toward the horizon, not knowing what awaited beyond.

Today, the conversation has mostly moved on, but the shift from a flat view of the world to a circular view of the world rages on. Some argue - I am one of them - that our ancestors understood the cycles of Nature and Earth better than we do, or at least they designed and built with those cycles in mind. Today, we certainly know more, but we don't always know better.

As a kid, I loved taking things apart. Once reassembled - with all the same parts - they never worked the same way. 

If you took your car apart, none of its parts - on its own - would take you from point A to point B. Now, tweak one of the parts, and you might get there faster or more reliably. But, once again, on its own, the "improved" part still wouldn't get you anywhere. 

"Have you ever heard of thin places?" Amy asked me at a meeting with local artists. I replied that I had not.

Are there windows in the room where you work? 

As I write this, I'm sitting in my home office with two large windows. Each faces a different direction, which means different types of daylight at various times. I've never given much thought to which is better for my productivity and my overall health and well-being, but I know someone who does.

Decanthropy. I like the name, but that's not why I was on a second call with Ian Rolston, NCIDQ, IDC, ARIDO, LEED GA. Ian is Founder and Lead Decanthropist at Decanthropy. We discussed logistical details for his Change by Design presentation but mostly we talked about the change we see unfolding in the architecture & design industry. We talked about the great work we see happening and the less inspiring as well.   

As the conversation unfolded, a pattern emerged as to what was getting in the way of positive change. The familiar pattern goes something like this: Stakeholders on a project get very excited about the potential of a particular solution. And, just as quickly, find a seemingly compelling reason (often something to do with clients) why it could not be implemented. At least not now… 

This is a prevalent and straightforward pattern. And we, humans, are very good at this. We even do it with our own ideas. We quickly find a reason why an idea won't work. It takes no effort. I should know :-)

"Get off the foam." It made me laugh, so I thought I would share. I'll get back to it shortly, but first, after reading about the Italian architecture firm (Ricehouse) that converts the by-products from rice cultivation into regenerative building products, I had two questions. 

First, I wondered about what happens to the by-products of the main crop in my region - sugarcane. I since learned that it goes into the production of disposable plates and trays meant to provide a compostable alternative to the styrofoam trays still widely used by grocery stores to hold everything from cheese assortments to meats, veggies, seafood, etc.

What does your work add up to? What does it mean or say about you, your design practice, your values, your priorities, and your purpose? For many of us, our identity is closely linked to our work, title, and what we put "out there." Yet, the most common response we get to what we do: Crickets. 

The room is dark. One eye covered, letters flash smaller and smaller on the wall in front of you. You read what you see out loud - or take a guess before your vision becomes too blurry. Maybe the "guessing" and the "blurry" part is just me, but for most of us, some strings of letters are very comfortable to read, while others require us to strain.