Simon Nielsen 12/21/21 Simon Nielsen 12/21/21

ASeedlingPlace* Digital Repository

ASeedlingPlace* will act as a connection of the global network of people or groups that are taking actions to green spaces in their respective cities in a collaborative manner.

Urban Gorillas are glad to announce the launch of a Digital Planting Repository called ASeedlingPlace*. ASeedlingPlace* is an initiative created by Urban Gorillas as part of the A-Place project that is co-funded by the CE Program of the European Commission

By Urban Gorillas

ASeedlingPlace* inspires to create a digital community of urban visionaries that aim to positively transform their - urban and rural - environment starting from the simple act of planting a seed and tendering a garden. The Digital Platform will be a point of reference for innovative urban greening initiatives that involve communities.

The scope is to showcase community engaged planting initiatives in Europe and beyond. The purpose of these online presentations is to present, inspire, connect to other organisations, and share ideas on the positive effects of collective greening actions in the city and society at large.

The platform will act as a connection of the global network of people or groups that are taking actions to green spaces in their respective cities in a collaborative manner.

In order to explore some amazing planting initiatives from around the globe subscribe to the SeedlingPlace* channels below:

Facebook & Instagram

For further info you can contact Urban Gorillas.

*Photo: 1st row: Project Title: “Enclosure for dialogue”, project by :* *Colab - 19* *Location: Bogota, Colombia, Date: September 2021. 2nd row: Organisation:* *Gardens of the Future* *Location: Nicosia, Cyprus. 3rd row, left: Project Title: “Vertical Gardens”Project by:* *Urban Gorillas* *Location: Nicosia, Cyprus Date: September 2020. 3rd row right: Project Title: MÁQUINAS BIÓTICAS | mico-friganista BIOTIC MACHINES | mico-freeganist Project by:* *Aga Estudio* *Location: Mexico City*

Simon Nielsen 12/1/21 Simon Nielsen 12/1/21

Out Of Sight

Poet and literary scholar, Dennis Haskell, examines a crucial sense. He drifts into a yellow haze and reports lucidly from a world of unseeing.

“After the succession of nurses,/the anaesthetist, who was all business;/more drops, more stinging, more/numbing to be grateful for, a cannula/in my left arm. Then he approached with a felt tip pen, and announced/“Now I’m going to draw on your eye!”/My eye had to flick left, right,/up, down - his uneasy, shifting canvas.”

Poet and literary scholar, Dennis Haskell, examines a crucial sense. He drifts into a yellow haze and reports lucidly from a world of unseeing.

By Dennis Haskell & PEN Perth

Out of Sight

with gratitude to Dr Olivia MacVie

Shifting steadily across the sky, banisher

of darkness and begetter of warmth,

Old Sol was for so long a God, a

golden guinea above us; now a friend

we could not live without

but only at a Goldilocks distance

from its explosive ferocity.

Years

of seering air had turned my eye

to the sun’s own yellow, and so,

starvation and thirst from early morning

to the Eye Hospital I had to go. It’s true

the cataract haunted me like a passion.

To get in required a temperature check,

papers, and Covid questions, then waiting time

in a windowless place, all its light

artificial. Nurses, all my possessions

disappeared, questions, which would return

again and again, name and birthdate

like a chant. Then I was led away

in a sunless, timeless world

to an optometrist; my chin on a stirrup,

she moved a camera back and forth

to my unphotogenic eye: blink,

stretch it wide, hold, starkly,

my jaw contorted

before circles of stunning white light.

Gradually moved into the inner sanctum

as if into a séance, into mystery,

I became begowned and hair-capped;

pleasant nurses, drops after drops

into my eye: some stung,

some partly numbed the poor thing.

After the succession of nurses,

the anaesthetist, who was all business;

more drops, more stinging, more

numbing to be grateful for, a cannula

in my left arm. Then he approached

with a felt tip pen, and announced

“Now I’m going to draw on your eye!”

My eye had to flick left, right,

up, down - his uneasy, shifting canvas.

Finally, some “relaxant” flowed into my arm,

my chair went flat; my head on a jelly pillow,

I was wheeled away, into the dark

where my ophthalmologist suddenly appeared

and leaned over me, pulled down

a periscope-like light, and covered me

with mesh, all but a square for my oval eye.

I had read what she would do: nick my eye,

suck out the sun-coloured cataract

and drop in a new, clear bionic one

angled to the lines on my sketchy eye:

splotches of shifting red, blue

swam before me; but I hardly felt

the whole thing. It was over

before I really knew, and I was quickly

wheeled out to sit up with biscuits and tea.

That night it was a scratchy, watery eye,

the next day simply blinding light;

I had to wear sunglasses everywhere,

somewhere between Joe Cool and the Cyclops.

But healing had begun; my ophthalmologist

says she’s “just a technician” – it’s all science;

now clear-eyed, to me it’s a form of magic

almost as stunning as our accidental sun.

Simon Nielsen 12/1/21 Simon Nielsen 12/1/21

Sudan Reading

By PEN Perth

On Tuesday 23 November PEN Perth held a reading to protest the military coup which took place on 25 October in Sudan. Afeif Ismail spoke about the coup and about the severe limitations involved in the deal between the military and the civilian Prime Minister, Abdalla Hamdok reached the day before the reading. The deal saw the release of some political prisoners, but far from all, and far from all writers. Poems by Afeif Ismail, Faisal Mohamed Salih, Alhag Warag, Mahammed Elfaki and Faiz Elsileek were read in Arabic by Afeif and in English translation by Vivienne Glance, David Moody, Annamaria Weldon and Dennis Haskell. The event was shared via Zoom to other parts of the world.

The poems are very different from those in the West: rhetorical but full of imagery, passionate and fearless in their content, and in a folkloric tradition whereby the poets can be sure of a substantial audience. Two of the poems are printed below:

So that Things Become Better

by Faisal Mohammed Salih

Co-transcreated by Vivienne Glance & Afeif Ismail

Oh, young woman!

You are wounded, bleeding inside

a heavy burden weighs down your soul.

You are wronged

but you are stronger than your oppressors

you want the ship of truth to be anchored

so that things become better.

Young woman

you are holding the roar of the world inside you

You are following the compass of your voice to break chains

You are the light when there is only darkness in the world

Inside you lives tomorrow’s Eid festival

And right now, happiness.

You want the ship of truth to be anchored

so that things become better.

How can you see the light when the world around you is dark?

How can you find a smile when you are between two jaws?

How can you take a breath when everything around you is suffocated:

the valley

underground

and above the horizon?

My chest is asphyxiated and my throat is strangled

but I find your certainty wraps around me

and tells me that one day

the ship of truth will be anchored

so that things become better.

Pawns without a board

by Afeif Ismail

Co-transcreated by Vivienne Glance & Afeif Ismail

We own all the streets

and rivers,

the night and the day

the sky with its birds,

its stars

and its moon.

We own what is under our land

and its mountains

Boabab trees

date palms

the branches of the Neems,

our throats that never stop chanting

and

singing,

and the half-cut bricks

that the builders have left especially on street corners.

What do the tyrants have except a palace of glass

and

pawns

and

guns

and

prisons.

17/11/21

Simon Nielsen 11/30/21 Simon Nielsen 11/30/21

What Is Your Cathedral?

“In the day to day repetition of placing one brick on another it can be really hard to see what is being built and maintain the vision. Yet that is what will sustain you in the long run. If you can see a bigger picture then that will give purpose.” Lawyer and podcaster Steven Moe asks us what we’re building.

By Steven Moe

You are walking along a deserted path in a place you’ve never visited before. The sun is beating down and it’s a hot day. In the distance you see three people about 50 metres apart from each other all doing the same task.

You get to the first one and ask what are you doing. He looks back at you unhappily and says, “I’m putting these bricks on top of each other”. You get to the second person and ask them the same question and they shrug their shoulders – “I’m building a wall.” You walk up to the third person and ask them what they are doing. She smiles and stretches out her arms and points upwards, and says, “I’m building a cathedral”.

This is Steven Moe. Welcome to Seeds Podcast.

The beauty of having your own podcast is that you can mix up the style of the show from time to time and I wanted to do that to share something I’ve been thinking about recently.

It comes from that podcast the other day with Israel Cooper on episode 112. You see, he spoke about buildings and the work that they do with ‘home’, and how important it was to get the foundation right.

It got me thinking about foundations, buildings and most importantly, why you build things. All of this thinking was reinforced by something my friend Antz Rohan said the other day at an Impact Dinner. Each of us are spending time in our life to create something, to build something. Particularly those of you who are listening to this now – I know you are all involved in creating or building something of value. But how often do we lose focus on that – lose sight of what it is we are contributing to.

I’m reminded of a visit I had to Barcelona many years ago. The Sagrada Familia is the most visited site in Spain and will be nearing completion in 2026 on the anniversary of the death of the main designer, Gaudi. That’s right, it is going to be completed 100 years after his death. You see, the key point is that building cathedrals can be an intergenerational activity that involves a true understanding of stewardship and working for the benefit of those who will follow us. Few of those who worked on Cathedrals, particularly in the Middle Ages, would have expected to see them actually completed. So being part of building something like that requires you to embrace a bigger picture that is far beyond yourself.

Did you know that the first meetings about the Barcelona cathedral were held in 1866? The first ground was broken in 1888? The first bell tower was completed in 1925. Over the time since then there have been many artisans, sculptors, builders, masons – all kinds of people have been involved. It simply could not be created alone. Since the start it has literally been generations of workers – several lifetimes – of people working to see a vision unfold.

When I looked into the story I told at the start – and there are a lot of permutations that exist out on the internet, I found that it was made famous by Peter Drucker in 1954 book called “The Practice of Management” (excerpt here). Drucker himself I think exhibits this idea of having a greater vision beyond stacking bricks. You see, he was born in 1909 and left Germany prior to WWII. He was 45 when that book was released and it advocated such far sighted things as allowing risk taking at lower levels in organisation, talked about the importance of making strategic decisions and developing teams that manage their own performance by reference to overall objectives. He has been described as the founder of modern management and even if you haven’t heard of him it is likely that he wrote articles or books that influenced people you have heard of. He came up with the phrase “knowledge worker” back in 1959. In the end he wrote 39 books that were published over a 70 year career as he died in 2005 at the age of 95. The point I’m making here is that it seems likely that he knew that his life was about building cathedrals.

So let’s finish by coming back to that story and I just want to ask two questions and leave you to reflect on them.

You see each of the people are building the same thing – but their attitude is completely different.

So the first question is which of the builders are you in how you approach your life?

In the day to day repetition of placing one brick on another it can be really hard to see what is being built and maintain the vision. Yet that is what will sustain you in the long run. If you can see a bigger picture then that will give purpose.

The second question is really simple.

What is your Cathedral?

Simon Nielsen 11/28/21 Simon Nielsen 11/28/21

Young Voices

“Young people go to school to prepare themselves for the future. We teach them about the past and the present but nothing about the future. Why is this?” International NGO, Teach The Future, invites young people to shape a vision and a manifesto for their community. In some Dutch towns and cities, this manifesto becomes an official document being implemented in actual development plans. Erica Bol tells a story of inter-generational planning.

“Young people go to school to prepare themselves for the future. We teach them about the past and the present but nothing about the future. Why is this?”

International NGO, Teach The Future, invites young people to shape a vision and a manifesto for their community. In some Dutch towns and cities, this manifesto becomes an official document being implemented in actual development plans. Erica Bol tells a story of inter-generational planning.

By Erica Bol & Teach The Future

Children are the future. It is therefore important to involve them in the future plans of your town or village. With the Young Voices Manifesto children give their vision of the future.

We inspire them, with the help of some lessons and a co-creation workshop, to think about the future, which empowers them to take part of creating and shaping the future they feel is sustainable.

The Manifesto is an important piece for local politics, societal organisations and companies. “The mayor can’t make the future by himself. We need to do it together.” Pop, 12 years old. It explains what young people feel is important for the future and includes 10 advices that can help in shaping that future.

“The future is cool and exciting. Let's not think in things that can't be done, but let go of the present and step into the future. Are you joining? A journey full of surprises and experiments.' (Young Voices, Breda, Netherlands, 2018)

In some Dutch cities this Young Voices Manifesto is an official document, the mayor and alderman are being hold responsible for addressing these advices. “We need to understand what young people think in order to answer to their needs.” Marianne de Bie, City of Breda (Netherlands)

This is a project of Teach the Future, a global non-profit movement that promotes ‘futures literacy’ as a life skill for students and educators. Their credo is Prepare students for tomorrow, teach the future today!

Young people go to school to prepare themselves for the future. We teach them about the past and the present but nothing about the future. Why is this? The main reason that most schools do not make the future part of their curriculum is the challenge to teach something that is not there yet. But just because you cannot provide students with a descriptive depiction of what the future holds, does not mean that we cannot help young people develop the skills needed to optimally prepare them for the future. By being prepared, one can give direction to one’s own future and that of the world around oneself.

Being prepared for the future is now more important than ever. The world is changing at a faster pace than it ever did, which makes it hard to keep up. The speed of change and the lack of control can create anxiety or stress. As a result, individuals shy away from the future. Although the future is inevitable, they do not like to think about it and take a passive approach. We highlight that you can prepare individuals for the future by teaching them future skills; there is no need to be afraid of the fast-changing world once one knows how to embrace uncertainty and shape change.

Simon Nielsen 11/18/21 Simon Nielsen 11/18/21

Every Seed I Plant Is A Wish For Tomorrow: Findings And Action Agenda From The 2020 Pandemic Gardening Survey

“The estimated costs of dietary-related ill health and mental illness in Australia are a staggering $200 billion every year. With COVID-19 and the climate emergency, we need more innovative policy strategies for mitigating these costs,” notes Dr Nick Rose, Executive Director of Sustain. A new report published by the Australian food network lays out an action agenda to create more edible towns and cities.

By Sustain: The Australian Food Network

In this report, we lay out an action agenda to create more edible towns and cities in Australia. Based on findings from the first-ever national Pandemic Gardening Survey, the report reflects the voices of over 9,000 gardeners from urban, regional and remote communities across Australia who shared how edible gardening is good for the mind, body and soul.

Edible gardening has immense power to do good. The survey findings reveal it was particularly important to low-income households and those living with mental illness and chronic conditions. As a gardener from regional Victoria shared, “I suffer from PTSD resulting from my firefighting career, so gardening has become a balm for my soul.” A Canberra gardener living with cancer explained that “my garden keeps me alive, especially on the bad days.”

Nearly 20% of respondents said they could not have made it through the pandemic without their garden. Another 62% said the garden meant a great deal to them during the pandemic. Along with their substantial mental health benefits, edible gardens have the power to create greener cities, reduce household waste, strengthen community connectedness, enhance food security and encourage fresh produce consumption.

“There are very few initiatives that fall within the remit of local and state governments that so powerfully support so many aspects of wellbeing at once,” said Dr Kelly Donati, founding Chairperson of Sustain and lecturer in food studies at William Angliss Institute.

Despite its documented benefits for ecological, mental and physical wellbeing, edible gardening currently receives limited government support.

“The estimated costs of dietary-related ill health and mental illness in Australia are a staggering $200 billion every year. With COVID-19 and the climate emergency, we need more innovative policy strategies for mitigating these costs,” noted Dr Nick Rose, Executive Director of Sustain.

Sustain is calling for the establishment of a $500 million national Edible Gardening Fund to be co-financed by federal and state/territory governments to drive a mass expansion of urban food production across Australia. “For a tiny fraction of our current annual health expenditure, the return on investment would be enormous,” said Dr Rose.

This bold call builds on the views of many survey respondents, including this health care practitioner from NSW Central Coast: “I fully endorse edible gardening as an intervention that would improve public and climate health. I would view any government support - federal, state or local - as a very good and wise use of my taxes and rates.”

“Respondents said they want councils to remove roadblocks and unlock vacant land,” added Dr Rose. “They want food gardens on verges and in every new development, and community gardens in every suburb. This needs to be networked, coordinated and supported at every level with policy commitments and targets. Now is the time for action.”

READ THE FULL REPORT HERE.

This report was funded by the Lord Mayor's Charitable Foundation.

Simon Nielsen 11/8/21 Simon Nielsen 11/8/21

The Apple Tree

“They were quiet then. I was too as I reflected on what was said. This brief conversation had opened a new perspective and healed something within.”

Read this short story - or is it a fairytale? - or a biography? - by lawyer and podcaster Steven Moe. It may heal something within.

“They were quiet then. I was too as I reflected on what was said. This brief conversation had opened a new perspective and healed something within.”

Read this short story - or is it a fairytale? - or a biography? - by lawyer and podcaster Steven Moe. It may heal something within.

By Steven Moe

Part I: Spring

I remember the small boy named John who used to visit me in the summer. He planted me here one day when he came with his Grandfather. They were exploring and ended up in this small valley so far out of the way. I overheard John’s Grandfather say that he had come to this same spot with his own Grandfather many years before.

I was planted by them beside this slow-moving stream that drifts lazily by, tossing light back up into my branches like confetti. I’ve long ago given up trying to work out what there might be to celebrate. The stream itself babbles constantly but cannot hold much of a conversation, speaking instead over and over of rocks and sand, fish, and frogs, of eddies and flows. However, I am grateful for the stream for my roots found it long ago and much of the surrounding land is parched in summer. If I had not been laid down so carefully to grow on its banks I might have withered long ago.

“Let’s see what happens”, said John’s Grandfather slowly, and through the soil that they placed on me I heard their footsteps retreating.

Part II: Summer

I cannot tell you much about the next few years as I emerged from seed to leaf to small tree. John returned during the summer and pruned me as I grew larger. He would often just sit there beside me or lean against me as I grew. Only a few times did his Grandfather join him and I watched as he grew older more quickly than John and I grew up. They had long talks there, sitting beneath me, and I listened in to each one. They talked of the past, the present, the future. I recall the final time I saw John’s Grandfather as he struggled up, leaning on a walking stick, after sitting down a last time under my shade. When John came the next summer, he was even more reflective than he had been on earlier visits and sat there, just watching the water flow by. He was thinking, throwing small stones, and listening to their sound. Being still and silent.

The last time John came he was no longer a boy. I was proud because I had started to produce some apples and I saw him grab one and eat it. Then I noticed that he had in his hands an axe and I shivered as he drew even closer and raised it. He used it to hack at me and after several deep cuts he took off the branch that was growing out and away from the stream. He had shifted my angles, and this left me only to droop out over the water. I felt like he had cut off an arm and I resented it. The apples that had been on the branch lay scattered on the ground. Even then, I knew that this was going to determine my destiny in some way.

John cut away at the branch lying there, unattached, and yet so intimately connected to me, until he had fashioned the straightest part into a walking stick. Was that all I was useful for?I felt a great sense of betrayal. Yet before he left, he stood up before me and the wind went quiet, the birds in my branches stopped singing and the sun shone brighter. All he said was, “I take a piece of you to guide me”. He addressed me so formally that despite my indignity, I bowed to him, as best I could. Then he was gone, to live his life, leaving me alone.

Part III: Autumn

As time went by the seasons were my only companions. They stayed long enough to feel comfortable with each other, not like the small birds who flew in and out so quickly that I couldn’t even focus on them. In winter the snow that fell chilled me deeply but the serene silence that resulted was worth it. Spring saw me grow again and push out new blossoms, each one representing a possible future. In summer, my apples grew and grew larger in the sun. I was proud of them and as the days grew shorter, they began to fall from me.

Autumn is when I was most upset, for by taking part of me away, John had left only one place for the apples I produced to fall. The stream gratefully received each of them making a sound as they slipped into the water like divers. All I could do was watch them drift away downstream and around the curve. It made me sad to see them leave.

At that time of year, I resented John greatly, for though he had given me life and looked after me he had also destroyed my chances for a friend since no tree could grow there with me. All those possible companions were swept downstream to nothingness. I kept asking myself why this had happened to me, the passing of the years did not help and I found myself thinking on it more and more. I felt like my life was futile for why I had been given such potential and yet it was left so wasted. My only comfort became those little birds that I envied for their ability to fly here and there without being rooted in one place. Their nests in my arms and long fingers were at least the source of much new life, unlike me.

Part IV: Winter

The years rolled by and each year my resentment grew with my height. My bark had become knobbled and rough. I was old now. Yet still I produced fruit each season, hoping that one day they might land beside me and grow there. I towered high above the stream and yet my wish was not granted. The apples dropped each time into the water to float away. I could feel within myself a coldness and the dark began to take over as I questioned all I stood for and reflected often on how I had achieved nothing.

Then one day an old man came walking into the valley with a small girl. Something stirred in me as they drew near. A memory of long ago. It had been several decades since I had last seen a person in these parts. This man reminded me of John’s Grandfather for he walked slowly, yet purposefully. They sat under my branches with their backs against my trunk and watched the water. I listened to them talk of the past, the present, the future.

Then the little girl asked, “Is this really the source of them all, Grandfather?”

The Grandfather nodded. “Yes”, he replied, “And the thing is that this old tree probably doesn’t even know”. He smiled wistfully.

“What do you mean?” asked the little girl. I too leaned in closer, listening hard.

“Well, look at the bend over there”, he said. “You see, this tree has no way of looking beyond this valley, seeing past its own limited view. It has no way of knowing that for miles and miles down from here the stream is lined with apple trees and that they all have come from this one source. For years, the tree has been faithfully dropping its apples into the stream and the water has washed them up to places far beyond the realm of what this tree could have ever thought possible.”

They were quiet then. I was too as I reflected on what was said. This brief conversation had opened a new perspective and healed something within.

They had brought a lunch with them and when they were done the small girl dug two holes along the bank, one upstream from me and one a little way down. I saw her place something in them and cover them up. Then she came back to sit beside her Grandfather, who said slowly, “Let’s see what happens”.

As they got up to leave, I saw the old man struggle to stand, and the girl reached out to help. She handed him something and I recognised the walking stick then. I made my leaves move in the wind and bent closer as the years of resentment fell away. I smiled down at John and he also looked up at me and tipped his hat, then he took his granddaughter’s hand in his and I watched them walk away.

You can hear Steven Moe’s own reading of this beautiful story here:

Simon Nielsen 6/21/21 Simon Nielsen 6/21/21

That Which Is Not Hell

“The hell of the living is not something that will be,” Italian author Italo Calvino wrote in his novel The Invisible Cities (1972).

“The hell of the living is not something that will be,” Italian author Italo Calvino wrote in his novel The Invisible Cities (1972).

By The Empty Square

“The hell of the living is not something that will be,” Italian author Italo Calvino wrote in his novel The Invisible Cities (1972).

“If there is one, it is what is already here, the hell we live in every day, that we make by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the hell, and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of hell, are not hell, then make them endure, give them space.”

Calvino wrote of Venice, but in essence he told us of the world and challenged our ability to imagine change. Not only in the way that we coexist as cities, countries, and societies but also in our micro-actions and gestures towards each other. Has Calvino’s challenge lost its edge? If not, how can we, in the midst of Hell, imagine change? How can we set out to create places that nourish the mind, build new bonds, and heal broken souls?

Simon Nielsen 6/21/21 Simon Nielsen 6/21/21

Touching Heaven: An Interview With Lubomyr Melnyk

“Art makes you bigger. It makes people grow. It shoots electricity into our intelligence. It’s like food for the soul and for the mind, so that we can grow and learn and think”, says world-famous Ukrainian pianist and composer, Lubomyr Melnyk, who discovered ‘continuous music’ during the 1970’s.

By The Empty Square

*Lubomyr Melnyk. Photo: The Empty Square*

We had the immense joy of meeting Melnyk in Copenhagen. We were as moved by his performance as his reflections on the potential of art.

Are we forgetting this potential in our everyday life? Can we somehow get it back into our communities and cities?

This is an invitation for a short trip to Heaven.

“Art makes you bigger. It makes people grow.”

— Lubomyr Melnyk