Novel Times, Novel Measures

The virtual home of Lawrence S. Grodeska

Gettin’ Out and About on the Peninsula

Spring is here in San Francisco and the weather has been downright incredible. Consequently, I’ve been trying to get out and about in the California countryside to counteract the sedentary urban lifestyle. Between biking and yoga and the gym, I stay plenty active enough, but none of that can substitute for time immersed in the great out-of-doors. I’ve been delighted to discover that there is an abundance of amazing hiking just a few minutes drive down the peninsula. Two weeks ago I hiked Sweeney Ridge, and today I hiked the Montara Mountain Trail out of San Pedro Valley Park, both near Pacifica. Here’s the map of where I was this morning:

If was pretty damn foggy today, but it made for some great ambience and a refreshing blast of moisture now and again.

And the fog may have kept a lot of other hikers away. I only saw one other group of three hikers, but I did see quite a bit of wildlife, including what I’m pretty sure was a bobcat. Yeah, pretty cool. I also happened across some quail, a couple warblers, juncos and phoebes, a big fat banana slug and a rufous-sided towhee up close and personal. All in all, a beautiful time out on the trail, breaking in some new boots and getting some time away to celebrate my 36th birthday a day early.

Filed under: Nature

More Notes from SXSWi – Medium, Message & Wood Ducks

It’s Monday mid-afternoon and I am sitting on a couch at a charging station with geeks of all stripes swirling around me. Those of us on the couches are all, minus one or two, typing away on our shiny silver MacBooks or white iBooks, but if I could see a pastiche of all those screens I’m guessing it would not look so uniform. Sure there would be Twitter and Facebook profiles, but also business plans and invoices, lines of code, maybe even my.SXSW.com. My point is that even though on the outside this army of geeks may look somewhat similar — we do have a stereo type after all: lots of privilege, mostly white, many pairs of eye glasses, a preponderance of gadgets — under the surface this army is concerned with an incredible array of ideas in the digital milieu. And lest you think that milieu is itself limited, just think about how the Internet is so quickly changing everything from science to sociality.

I’ve been experiencing an incredible cross section of this diverse milieu, tailored to my own interests but providing much broader exposure. The sessions I’ve been hitting have ranged from web content strategy to content management systems, from crowdsourcing to the publicity and privacy issues of being a part of the crowd. Of particular general interest was Dan Roam, famous for his Healthcare Napkins slide show. The main thrust of his talk “Blah, Blah, Blah….Why Words Don’t Matter” was to help us understand as communicators that we can’t really share an idea unless we have the ability to both talk about it and show it. Another incredible session was Danah Boyd’s keynote on Privacy and Publicity. This issue is so timely and her research about how we use social media so far ahead of the curve than most discussions of these issues that I plan on posting my notes when I have a chance to clean them up. For the time being and the truly interested, here is the full text of her talk.

At this point I’m going to do something that might smack a bit of self-promotion, but in reality is much more practical…I’ve been tweeting pretty regularly at twitter.com/lsgrodeska and I’d encourage you to take a gander. Not only will you see some tiny morsels I found tasty enough to share, you will also get an idea (I think) of the ebb and flow of ideas and action at SXSW. Sometimes things come clear and fast, other times slow and hazy but in one way or another, everything has just flowed.

And so, on Day 5, nearing the end of Interactive and gearing up for the transition to Music, South by Southwest has not disappointed and Austin has most definitely delighted. Great food, better friends, both new and old, and pristine weather full of sun and warmth during the day and just enough of a chill at night. Most of all, I’ve been throughly enjoying my twice daily bike rides along the river between my hostel and the convention center – once in the morning to the conference and then back later in the day to drop off my bag and regroup before heading back out into the fray.

During one of those rides I happened upon a group Wood Ducks in a small stream behind the convention center that feeds in to the river. Now every time I ride across the bridge that crosses that stream, I’ve stopped and lingered. I’ve seen up to 6 males and 3 or 4 females, and yesterday I even saw a male mount a female. It is spring time, after all. These petite, color-by-numbers creatures have brought some extra joy to my days, and some much needed persepctive on all the heady, techy ideas being batted around. For in this arena of ideas, it is far too easy to miss the forest for the trees. As Marshall McLuhan famously said, the medium may well be the message, but that is precisely why we need to be conscious of the message we want to spread as we build the medium. If we don’t take the time to do so, we run the risk of having the medium determine the message. For me, those ducks are a beautiful, tangible, and very necessary reminder of one message I am trying to bring to the medium — environmental responsibility and collective stewardship of our home, planet Earth. I challenge others to verbalize their own messages as we navigate the information stream that is SXSWi.

Filed under: Nature, SXSW, Technology

Hikin’ the Hetch


Hetch Hetchy Valley, originally uploaded by noveltimes.

Last weekend I went backpacking up in the Hetch Hetchy Valley. Needless to day, it was a great trip – amazing weather, stunning stars, excellent company. I’m actually working on another blog post for work about visiting the source of our water supply here in San Francisco, so I’m going to keep this post short. For now, enjoy the photos I’ve uploaded from the trip.

Filed under: Nature

“A morbid fever that may last…100,000 years”

Okay, I’m officially shaken up. I’ve been a gloom and doomer for some time now, probably about a decade. I keep crying that until we (society) begin to tangibly experience the repercussions of our actions, of our consumerism, that nothing will change. How often have I said that many will perish before the necessary lessons are learned and behaviors changed? Not often enough, apparently. Upon reading the latest public statement by preeminent atmospheric scientist James Lovelock in yesterday’s London Independent Online, even I am in complete shock. The title of the piece, “The Earth is about to catch a morbid fever that may last as long as 100,000 years”, does justice to my reaction upon reading it.

For those not in the know, Sir James Lovelock is the originator of the Gaia Hypothesis which asserts that the Earth is one large, interconnected and self-regulating system. This means that the Earth has a range of biochemical processes that help to maintain a climate suitable to the proliferation and continuation of life. When I first read Lovelock’s work over a decade ago, I was thrilled to the core; his radical, yet solid, scientific propositions fully resonated with my personal intuitions of an animate, intelligent and unified Earth system. While even Lovelock’s writing can at times appear to blur the line between Science and Spirituality, I can assure that the thoery is firmly rooted in rigorous global atmospheric biochemistry. Unfortunately, in the end, the complex collection of feedback loops that Lovelock envisioned may turn out to work against civilzation.

Now for the real doom and gloom. I’m chilled not only by the content of these predictions, but also by the observation that this might well be the first time in the era of modern scientific thought that a scientist of Lovelock’s international stature has made such bold claims. Apparently, given the conclusions of his research, he felt no other option but to “go out on limb”. He starts with a clear and regret-filled warning:

I have to tell you, as members of the Earth’s family and an intimate part of it, that you and especially civilisation are in grave danger.

He firmly believes that we have reached “a point of no return,” that the same processes which have regulated climate until now have been so perturbed as to be irreversibly heading towards drastic climatic changes, with devastating consequences.

We are in a fool’s climate, accidentally kept cool by smoke, and before this century is over billions of us will die and the few breeding pairs of people that survive will be in the Arctic where the climate remains tolerable.

And the final, no-holds-barred, pull-no-punches conclusion:

So what should we do? First, we have to keep in mind the awesome pace of change and realise how little time is left to act; and then each community and nation must find the best use of the resources they have to sustain civilisation for as long as they can.

Towards the end, Lovelock displays his compassion and love for humanity, despite our environmental follies.

We are not merely a disease; we are, through our intelligence and communication, the nervous system of the planet. Through us, Gaia has seen herself from space, and begins to know her place in the universe.

This is, at the risk of overt anthropomorphism, perhaps the saddest outcome of such a scenario. Life, in some diminished capacity, will continue on planet Earth, despite catastrophic climatic change. It is distinctly possible, however, that the resplendent beauty of the biological diaspora here on Earth will be decimated. Atop the pyramid of Life sits Homo Sapiens Sapiens, the pinnacle of evolution in our cosmological locale, replete with sentience and self-relfection, capable of receiving the beauty of Life’s diversity and giving it back through creative expression, through art and language and science, through love. An ecological collapse of that pyramid at the hands of rising global temperatures would insure the loss of such complexity, of the novelty that is the human neocortex and its’ concomitant civilization.

When a scientist on the par of James Lovelock, a man whom I happen to respect inordinately, begins to speak of the end of civilization, the time is nigh to sit up and take notice. I can’t say much more right now, I am still reeling from encountering such a desperate proclamation just a few short hours ago. The only thing I can think to do at the moment is to talk about this with those that I care about, those whom opinions I trust and respect. More words will follow and the dialogue will continue. In the meantime, please educate yourselves. Civilization may well depend on it.

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Filed under: Nature, The Future

Pigeon Nemesis: Epilogue

Time has passed. The warm spring has been swept away by the dense drizzle of chilly summer fog. And with seasonal changes have come others. It’s quieter around my room, for one. No longer the clucking and cooing of Momma and Poppa, nor the gentle chirping of their chicks looking for a protein handout. Yes, things are different — for all of us.

Sure, I see Momma and Poppa now and again, although I still can’t tell he from she. They stop by the old ledge, making a ruckus and waking me up for old time’s sake. I stick my head out the window and shoo them away, just like always. But truth be told, we’re just not that close anymore. The magic is gone. They spend most of their time wandering other streets; I don’t ask questions when they drop in.

The end of that magical time may have ended much like it began, one saturday morning arising to the pleasant sounds of not much ado outside of my window. I had been pretty busy the few days previous and hadn’t had — or made — the time to check in with my feathered family. A complex mix of emotions greeted me on the vacant ledge outside which had been the stage of so much mirthful growth just days earlier:

empty pigeon nest

Confusion, joy, loss, instant nostalgia. My reaction notwithstanding, I figured that the pigeon pair had completed their avian duties and shoved off to ports unknown. Ahoy, were it so simple. Soon enough Momma and Poppa were back, making obvious preparations for take two, for a second round of babies to throw into the world of brick and mortar and pavement. You may recall the torrid beginnings of my relationship with this pair. This time my foreknowledge of what was to come sent me into a frenzy when I felt the refrain come around again. Within minutes, without shower and clad only in bedclothes, I was racing around the house, looking for any sturdy implement of sufficient length and heft, settling on the discarded pieces of my roommate’s bedframe. After a few passes I had made ample use of my weapon to disassemble quite a few days of pigeon labor which had produced a solid nest of twigs and guano, and render what must have been a severe psychological setback:

they’re back

Despite the voyeuristic awe with which I witnessed the intial cycle of offspring, I simply could not let another round transpire. Sometimes I wonder just what it means that I destroyed a pigeon nest. Am I a cruel, selfish human, desensitized and hardened to Nature’s beauty? Or did I demonstrate loving compassion in watching a new set of pigeons enter the world and then enacting tough love by pushing their parents to reestablish their fitness in the rough and tumble urban jungle? Questions that might not have a single, tidy answer. Nor how can I know in all certainty that the pigeons who return for flighty visits are the same parents I watched nurture their young? Now when I see rock doves in my travels throughout the city, I wonder if they might be those to whom I grew so close, if I see a flicker of recognition in those orange boggle eyes. Underneath that anthropomorphisized longing for connection, though, I appreciate their beauty. Sometimes scraggily and taut, othertimes puffed in splendor, a continual beauty nonetheless, if I remain open to it.

Perhaps this renewed insight into urban beauty will be the lingering evidence of my pigeon family. Sure, San Francisco is, on the urban aesthetics scale, an extreme of metropolitan beauty. But over time, the grime and grit still seeps through. Furthermore, the rut and race of it all — city life, bustling, tumbling — threatens to dash even San Francisco’s radiance. And if our cultural proclivities can quash the appreciation of beauty in this town, well then it can certainly prevent us from taking a moment to appreciate what we too often refer to as “pests.” Pests they may be in one context, but in another, in what I would consider the highest, ultimate context, they are Life, resplendant in form and function and verisimilitude. In this light I thank Momma and Poppa and babies one and two. While we’ve parted ways, our connection has not been severed. Rather, there is now a little more space in my heart and mind’s eye for those — and all — pigeons. I’m guessing that a few other of Life’s forgotten wonders just might find their way into that space, too.

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Filed under: Nature

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