The city has started to impress itself upon my senses in increasing amounts when I come back, and I'm realizing that perhaps it has always had a stirring effect on me. In the conference our keynote speaker was Dr. Stuart Shanker, who is the lead authority these days on self-regulation--one's ability to regulate their arousal states while simultaneously processing the numerous stressors present in their environment. Stress, from Shanker's consideration, is anything that requires energy to deal with, and we all have different sensitivities to stress and therefore require different levels of energy to regulate our alertness. For instance the lighting in a room can be a stressor to someone who is sensitive to such things, as can traffic noise and city smells and sounds. Even the comfort of the chair in which you sit can have an effect on your ability to pay attention to a speaker, as a friend who attended the Writer's Fest told me--she could hardly listen to the writer who was speaking because her chair was so incredibly uncomfortable! This of course presents itself in the classroom, and what Shanker said is that we are getting kids who are less able to self-regulate their arousal states because they are under more stress than ever before. He suggested that this was in part due to increased urbanization, and to an increase in media use rather than having kids who go outside to play, which has been shown to be an effective way of combating stress. I could get into the whole thing in much more depth, but I'm soon off to VanDusen Gardens to see a Wild Art Exhibit put on by students in the city. Perhaps more later.
Shanker's address got me thinking about my own choices in my living situation, and how much calmer and more relaxed I feel since choosing to live outside of the city. The city winds me up, makes me feel frazzled and exhausted, and this is surely exacerbated now that I spend the majority of my time without all this extra outside stimulation. When visiting I feel acutely aware of the artificiality of the city, of the pavement, of the buildings and the lights, of planted gardens instead of sprawling fields in various states of reclamation over the scars left by industry. Sitting in traffic to get downtown with my two sisters on our way to dinner was alarming to me. I don't drive downtown anymore when I visit, choosing instead to take the bus or seabus, and the core of Vancouver has been filling up with residents and vehicles steadily since I have left. An increase in traffic seems a slow transition to my sisters who live here, seems to have almost occurred without notice just like days of aging pile up slowly in the mirror, but to me it seems abrupt, jarring on the senses, my desire for fresh air met with the sour smell of exhaust as I rolled down the passenger window.
I suppose I am in heavy thought about just how many of us live without a direct connection to nature, and how we can therefore become removed from concern for her health and well-being. What we see is the growth of our city, we spend our time walking and driving on pavement, flicking on our light switches with the same ease as breathing, and we forget that the fuel for this growth comes from somewhere.
I'm not sure what the answer to all this thought is, but I know that it is something that I think about often. How to create a more connected and sustainable lifestyle. How to battle the difficulties with things like self-regulation that are plaguing our society at an ever-increasing rate. How to find a state of equilibrium between self, community and earth. How to connect, wholeheartedly, with the essence of life on this planet--not just our own but to all living things.
My thought process this morning reminded me of a poem that I wrote a couple of years ago, which can be found here.
Adrift. We are far from shore right now, but I still believe we have the strength to swim back.
Here's a fifteen minute talk from Shanker about self-regulation and learning, for those who are interested.
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