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Blue Spaces Cure the Blues

by Joyce McGreevy on August 24, 2020

A blue lake under a blue sky, Elk Lake, Oregon, inspires the author to reflect on personal and cultural beliefs about water, including the blue mind and blue spaces theory. (Image © Rayna Bevando)

Celebrating Earth’s water can inspire us to find the flow in life.
© Rayna Bevando

Personal & Cultural Beliefs About Water

In this high-heat, high-stress summer, how are people finding relief? Emails from friends around the world offer a common response.

  • “. . .the great thing about the island is that you’re almost always in sight of the sea.” —Waiheke, New Zealand
  • “ . . .it’s cold getting in, but your body soon adjusts, and you feel your mood lifting with the waves.”—Cork, Ireland
  • “ . . .in the evenings, we stroll, following the flow of the Arno and stopping at bridges to admire the reflected city.”—Florence, Italy
A woman gazing out over lake reminds the author that blue spaces inspire reflection, personal and cultural beliefs about water, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

As we look out on blue spaces, we reflect inwardly, too.
© Joyce McGreevy

Our cultural beliefs about water may differ, but our need for blue spaces is both universal and deeply personal. Obviously, water is essential to our survival and that of the planet. As many a marine scientist has pointed out, without blue space, there is no green space. But water also buoys well-being.

This Theory Holds Water

According to the “Blue Mind” theory made famous by U.S. scientist Wallace J. Nichols, spending time near, in, or on bodies of water is a highly effective way to wash away what he calls “Red Mind,” an edgy state “characterized by stress, anxiety, fear, and maybe even a little bit of anger and despair.”

Like when, say, pandemic challenges your physical health, and turbulent world events challenge your mental health. Stuff like that.

A Deep Dive into Water

While the science behind water’s benefits to the brain is recent and ongoing, the history of why human beings celebrate water goes back to ancient cultural beliefs and traditions.

Indian and Chinese philosophers believed that the ideal state of being was exemplified by still water—quiet within and undisturbed on the surface. Lao Tzu advised, “Make your heart like a lake, with a calm, still surface, and great depths of kindness.”

No one said this was easy. Then, as now, daily life was regarded as a flood tide of constant change, what one Roman poet called a “rushing torrent of passing events.” The challenge was not to drown in despair but to learn how to ride the waves.

Ancient Roman and Greek physicians believed that water itself had healing properties for the body. They documented every conceivable kind of Water Cure.

A rivulet reminds the author that almost any blue space can inspire cultural beliefs about water, traditions, and celebrations, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Even a rivulet can fill the senses.
© Joyce McGreevy

Some ill-conceived water cures almost became cultural traditions, too. In early-1900s America, a fad for drinking radioactive water proved short-lived. (Alas, so did its more ardent practitioners.)

Got Water? Why Every Culture Celebrates It

Some believe our celebration of water goes back to our nine-month voyage in the amniotic cove of our mother’s womb, or farther back still, to our evolutionary emergence from the sea. Scientists are fond of pointing out to us that water not only covers more than 70 percent of Earth’s surface, but also makes up from 45 to 75 percent of our bodies and more than 70 percent of our brains. Even our bones are one-third water.

Two women looking out to sea remind the author that blue spaces can inspire reflection, personal and cultural beliefs about water, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

We must go down to the sea again . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

Novelist Tom Robbins expressed the playful belief that “Human beings were invented by water as a device for transporting itself from one place to another.” With all this water in our bodies, we humans have certainly carried water everywhere, including from one cultural celebration to another, finding ever more creative ways for it to flow into music, festivals, and language.

For example, long before Handel composed his Water Music suite, one of the world’s oldest musical instruments, the hydraulis, was powered by water.  The popularity of this ancient Greek pipe organ reached its zenith in the 17th century, when Italy’s Tivoli Gardens featured a 20-foot high instrument played by . . . a waterfall!

Waterfalls remind the author that blue spaces can inspire reflection, personal and cultural celebrations and beliefs about water, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

An orchestra of waterfalls performs arpeggios of water music.
© Joyce McGreevy

Water festivals have flowed through every age and culture, from Tōrō nagashi, the Japanese ceremony of floating paper lanterns down a river, to today’s global celebrations of World Water Day.

In Thailand’s Lo Krathong festival, cares, worries, and bad karma are symbolically floated away on a tiny candle-lit raft, or krathong, courtesy of the closest body of water.

In Armenia, July’s heat sets the scene for Vardavar, or “Rose Day.” According to tradition, people playfully douse any and all passersby with water. For tourists walking under open windows, Vardavar brings whole new meaning to “bucket list” travel.

Water Words

Water also channels through the idioms of different cultures. In English, someone who blurts out a secret is “letting the cat out of the bag, but in Nepali, they’re “letting the water leak.” In English, you might refer to multitasking, but in Indonesian you say, “while diving, drink water.”

Translated into English, the well-known phrase “like water for chocolate” sounds almost soothing. But in its original Spanish—estoy como agua para chocolate—it means your emotions are about to boil over. In the Irish language, the most intoxicating expression involving water is uisce beatha (ISH-kuh BAA-haa), “the water of life”—otherwise known as whiskey. Cheers!

Like a Fish to Water

My personal obsession with water is lifelong. Wherever I’ve lived or traveled, I’ve gravitated toward water —California’s Monterey Bay, Chicago’s Lake Michigan, Istanbul’s Bosporus strait, Galway, Ireland’s River Corrib.

Even now, in the high desert of Oregon, water is my favorite escape from workday deadlines and dire headlines.

The Deschutes River, in Bend, Oregon at evening reminds the author that blue spaces can inspire reflection, personal and cultural beliefs about water, and the cultivation of a blue mind. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Evening walk along the Deschutes River, Bend, Oregon.
© Joyce McGreevy

Calm waters offer respite. When life’s stresses become so layered that we bow under their earthen weight, blue spaces call to us. At such times, says poet Mary Oliver, we need

“to cast aside the weight of facts

and maybe even

to float a little

above this difficult world.”

Bluesday, Waterday . . .

Which is why—with work stacked up and the world pressing down—I declared a personal water festival. My sister, niece, and I—all water signs, naturally—got our feet wet testing a 4,000-year-old cultural tradition that’s now a popular summer diversion.

We went kayaking.

Floats and kayaks at Elk Lake, Oregon figure in the author’s personal celebration of blue spaces and inspire her interest in personal and cultural beliefs about water, including the blue mind theory. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Floats and boats at Elk Lake, Oregon.
© Joyce McGreevy

For a few blissful hours, we paddled the clear waters and lush silence of Elk Lake. Trailing our fingers in the wavelets, we verified Wordsworth’s belief that “a lake carries you into recesses of feelings otherwise impenetrable.”

On a less literary note, I don’t know who said, “Time wasted at the lake is time well spent” but they were right. In a blue space, with a blue mind, I let everything but the present moment drift away on the current, as if on a candle-lit Krathong festival raft.

A rock pool at Elk Lake, Oregon figures in the author’s personal celebration of blue spaces and inspires her to take a closer look at personal and cultural beliefs about water, including the blue mind theory. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Water refracts yet clarifies, spotlighting the beauty of ordinary sand and stone.
© Joyce McGreevy

Now don’t get me wrong. As I returned to the land, I knew that life’s realities would be waiting for me. Not every day can be a water festival. But whenever the tides of life turn choppy, it helps to remember there are harbors.

Whatever our cultural  beliefs about water, we can all benefit from deepening our appreciation of water. Oh, I see: Our celebrations of blue spaces can help us navigate life’s rockier passages—perhaps even with blue minds, and hearts as calm as a lake.

Explore Japan’s cultural tradition of Tōrō nagashi, here.

Follow a dazzling history of Greenlandic kayaking, here.

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Great Gardens of the World: Les Jardins d’Étretat

by Meredith Mullins on August 3, 2020

A UNESCO World Heritage view (and Monet’s favorite spot in Étretat)
© Meredith Mullins

A Nature Discovery with a View

Where am I?

Am I in Alice’s wonderland or a labyrinthian meditation garden? Am I dreaming that hedges are crashing like waves on the hillside, or am I lost in a fantasy tunnel of green?

Perhaps all of the above. Great gardens open doors to creative experiences.

Enchanted gardens inspire the imagination.
© Meredith Mullins

Gardens hide behind tiny doors or down Alice-discovered rabbit holes. They surprise us beyond dilapidated fences that seem to say “go farther only if you dare.” And they present magical mazes that offer the alluring puzzle of being lost in time and place.

Does anyone else see a dancing flower?
© Meredith Mullins

Enchanted gardens are laced through literature. And they have brought inspiration to writers and painters throughout history.

One such special garden is Les Jardins d’Étretat—a nature discovery with a breathtaking view of the sea . . . and a neo-futuristic design that offers a glimpse into the future.

Oh, I see. “The garden is a perpetual artistic experiment,” as landscape architect Alexandre Grivko says of his 21st century creation.

A garden with a view . . . of the sea, of the cliffs, and of the future
© Meredith Mullins

Monet’s Other Garden

The Jardins d’Étretat have a historic link to Claude Monet, as well as other painters such as Boudin, Courbet, Delacroix, Manet, Polenov, and Corot.

The gardens sit at the top of the Falaise d’Amont on the Alabaster Coast of Normandy, famous for its weather-etched limestone cliffs and natural rock arches (and listed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO).

The light, the clouds, the sea, and the sculpted landscape have been an inspiration for generations.

The Étretat coast has inspired writers and artists for generations.
© Meredith Mullins

Monet painted these cliffs beginning in 1868, creating more than 50 works of the Étretat area.

As a tribute to Monet (painter, avid gardener, and friend), the French actress Madame Thébault created a garden near her villa at the Amont clifftop, planting her first tree in 1903 and nurturing, among other things, a vast collection of orchids.

Her garden was her solace, away from the demands of the theatre. And it became a welcome haven for her artistic friends.

A haven for visitors
© Meredith Mullins

A Neo-Futuristic Experiment

Fast forward more than 100 years. Russian landscape architect Alexandre Grivko takes on the daunting but creative challenge of restructuring and reimagining the abandoned garden, while honoring its historical significance.

The garden becomes an experimental laboratory and an artistic expression of the coast of Normandy.

More than 1000 tons of soil and 100,000 plants were brought to the top of the cliff.
© Meredith Mullins

More than 1000 tons of soil were hauled up the cliff and more than 100,000 plants were planted—all in less than two years.

Grivko followed famous French landscape architect Le Nôtre’s rapid design of the Versailles gardens by limiting the plant species.

He also followed Vito di Bari’s “Neo-Futuristic City Manifesto,” which focuses on the integration of art, technology, ethical values, and nature—to provide a higher quality of life.

A year-round garden of green that withstands the coastal winds and salty air
© Meredith Mullins

Grivko’s goal was to test new plant-care strategies so that the garden could withstand the climate challenges (wind and salt air) and to experiment with sculptural plant trimming in innovative ways.

The plant shapes are organic and true to the land forms of the area. You’ll find the waves of the English Channel, sea spirals, whirlpools, oyster farms, and, of course, the cliff formations—all in a variety of ever-greenery.

An arcade of green, mirroring the formation of the Étretat cliffs
© Meredith Mullins

An Open-Air Museum

Although the garden is not large (just under 4 acres), you have the feeling that endless meandering could be possible. The space presents permanent and temporary displays of sculpture by international artists. The permanent collection was a part of Grivko’s design. The temporary exhibit brings new work to the garden every year.

A sculpture from this year’s temporary exhibit
(“Evolution” by Cyrille André from France)
© Meredith Mullins

The seven named gardens each offer something unique. The Jardin Avatar is the first new discovery by the entrance. This garden features The Clockwork Forest (where you turn the key in the trunk of a tree and music begins to accompany you on your journey).

Who wouldn’t be tempted to turn a giant key in a tree in an enchanted garden?
(Sculpture by the Greyworld Group in London)
© Meredith Mullins

This area also exhibits the temporary sculptures of American Gianna Dispenza’s “The Space Between” and Chinese Shuengit Chow’s “Mobile Music House.”

Gianna Dispenza’s metal sculpture seems to fly in the wind.
© Meredith Mullins

The Mobile Music House is made of aluminum skins from drink cans to show
that beauty can be found in everyday objects.
© Meredith Mullins

The Jardin Impressions comes next, with its timeless view of the Étretat cliffs, permanent exhibits of comfortable wood lounging chairs, a lounging boat (apropos to the coastal location), and a temporary sculpture entitled “L’été” (Summer) showing the cycles of life and seasons.

L’Été sculpture by Armenian Gevorg Tadevosyan
© Meredith Mullins

A perfect way to merge with nature, pausing in wooden furniture
that is much more comfortable than it looks (by German Thomas Rösler).
© Meredith Mullins

The Jardin Emotions is the most recognizable part of the garden with its set of polyester/resin heads showing the range of human emotions.

The faces are floated in greenery that reflects the underwater world and mollusk-like shapes of Marie Antoinette’s first oyster bed, said to have been in the waters just below this Étretat cliff.

What emotions do you feel?
(Sculpture by Samuel Salcedo from Spain)

The “Drops of Rain,” as they are called—by Spanish artist Samuel Salcedo—range from expressive to creepy, depending on your personal interpretation.

Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to spend a night in the garden with these fellows, no matter what their emotional depth.

A kiss is not (yet) a kiss.
© Meredith Mullins

The Jardin d’Aval sends you into wonderland, with The Tree Hugger Project made from fallen tree branches by Agnieszka Gradzik (Poland) and Wiktoy Szostalo (Lithuania), a long table and benches made from one solid oak block by German sculptor Thomas Rösler, and flowers made of greenery that look like they are about to burst into song.

A tree hugger made from fallen tree branches
(from The Tree Hugger Project)
© Meredith Mullins

Flowers ready to dance and sing in a grand garden musical
© Meredith Mullins

Next on the path are the Jardin Zen, for a meditative pause amidst walls of bamboo and white rhododendrons; the Jardin La Manche with topiary mazes; and the Jardin d’Amont that takes you to the highest point of the garden, with greenery trimmed to look like the Normandy cliffs.

A moment of zen
(Bronze sculpture by Dashi Namdakov from France)
© Meredith Mullins

A Rabbit Hole and a Vision of the Future

As you wander through the Jardins d’Étretat, you might feel as if you fell through time and space into a different world. Whether real or imagined, you did.

A different world
© Meredith Mullins

As one of the great gardens in the world, this nature discovery is a brilliant integration of technology, ecology, and art. It shows a strong link between earth and sea.

And best of all, it is an artistic creation that is rooted in one of the most artistic places of all time—the Étretat coast. It is the past, present, and future all in one. Monet would feel right at home.

A tribute to Claude Monet from The Tree Hugger’s Project
© Meredith Mullins

For more information on the Jardins d’Étretat, visit here. For more information on landscape architect Alexandre Grivko, visit Il Nature.

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Crossing Cultures in an Urban Garden

by Meredith Mullins on July 20, 2020

A cultural exchange via the sweet potato
© Meredith Mullins

A Tribute to Satsuma-imo: The Mighty Japanese Sweet Potato

“In Japan, in autumn, it is customary to collect fallen leaves, put sweet potatoes wrapped in aluminum foil in the leaves, and light the fallen leaves to bake them,” remembers Chiharu. “When I was a child I did this at my grandparents’ home. It was a special time of cooking and eating together.”

“Instead of ice cream trucks circling the neighborhoods to offer treats, we had stone-roasted sweet potato trucks,” says Midori of her childhood in Japan.

Stone roasted sweet potatoes
© iStock/kendoNice

Manami remembers planting sweet potatoes in elementary school and being excited when it was time to harvest the tiny schoolroom crop. And Hisako looked forward to sweet potatoes at snack time. “They warmed my body and my spirit,” she recalls.

Memories of the traditional Japanese sweet potato snack
© iStock/LewisTsePuiLung

Sweet Memories

What unites these memories of sweet potatoes is more than just nostalgia for Japanese culture. This team of Paris-based Japanese garden-lovers are all working in “Le Nid de l’Ortolan” — crossing cultures in a community garden in the heart of Paris.

A team of community gardeners at the rooftop Le Nid de l’Ortolan garden
© Jean Auvray

And thanks to an innovative, cross-cultural idea from garden organizer Julien Chameroy, sweet potatoes are the focus of the moment (as well as a unique opportunity for a Japanese/French liaison project).

Patate douce/Sweet Potato/Satsuma-imo
© Julien Chameroy

Julien, too, had memories of sweet potatoes from his time living in Japan—hearing street vendors hawking grilled sweet potatoes and seeing people hurrying through the streets while taking bites of the warm, sweet treat.

Satsuma-imo: the delicious and nutritious Japanese sweet potato
© iStock/kuppa_rock

More than those memories, though, the Frenchman believes the sweet potato is a nutrient-rich vegetable that should have a place in the Paris community garden. And, he believes that learning about a plant—how it grows and what it needs in order to flourish—are all a part of the connection to nature.

Does food taste different when you grow it yourself?
© Meredith Mullins

His garden mantra: “The more you know about a vegetable, the better it tastes.”

Thus, the Satsuma-imo project was born, with a group of passionate Japanese amateur gardeners at the ready.

The team is ready for the life cycle of the sweet potato (satsuma-imo).
© Meredith Mullins

But First Some History: Le Nid de l’Ortolan

The site of the Satsuma-imo project, Le Nid de l’Ortolan, is a community garden born in 2017—a “nest” perched atop a gymnasium in the 5th arrondissement of Paris (near rue Mouffetard).

The shared garden idea was seeded a few years earlier when founders Julien Chameroy and Joyce Sasse were working in a community garden in the 4th arrondissement and realized there was no such jardin partagé in the 5th.

The corn is as high as an elephant’s eye (well, a small elephant).
© Meredith Mullins

They found the unused plot of “roof” land and went through all the phases of joining the Charte Main Verte (literally translated to Green Hand, but, in English, think Green Thumb).

This city organization of now more than 70 neighborhood gardens in almost all the arrondissements was created to encourage urban gardening, to support education about nature and the environment, and to bring communities together in a more social way.

The “Nid” sits on a gym rooftop and is guarded by a retirement home,
whose residents also participate in the garden activities.
© Meredith Mullins

All of these goals also support Paris Mayor Anne Hidalgo’s ever present plan for the “greening of Paris.”

The “Nid” has about 50 members divided into teams that rotate each year so everyone gets to know everyone. Since the “Nid” sits next to a retirement home, the members of that community are invited to participate also.

The teams decide in January what to plant, and the 240-square-meter space currently hosts beans, chard, squash, spinach, cucumbers, sunflowers strawberries, potatoes, artichokes, rhubarb, peppers, garlic, lettuce, broccoli, herbs of all kinds, and much more.

The telltale signs of squash to come
© Meredith Mullins

The Satsuma-imo Japanese Team

Each member of the Japanese sweet potato team seems to share the overarching goals of the community garden. They all want to see more green spaces in urban areas, particularly in Paris. And they all want to spend more time close to nature.

In the process of the Satsuma-imo project, they are learning about the variety of plants grown in France and the different ways these plants are consumed in France and Japan.

The Paris garden is growing crosnes, also known as a Japanese artichoke.
It’s a forgotten root vegetable that some chefs call the homely tuber.
© Meredith Mullins

You could tell by watching them work that they love touching the earth and feeling a part of the growing cycle. As Chiharu says, “Just thinking about this garden brightens my heart.”

Feeling a connection to the earth
© Meredith Mullins

The Sweet Potato Project

The satsuma-imo project began at a challenging time. Just after the start of the project, France went into a two-month corona confinement period. However, the timing proved serendipitous, as sweet potato seedlings must grow for at least a month to become ready for planting.

Chiharu shows off her sweet potato seedling “children.”
© Meredith Mullins

The seedlings were closely watched in the homes of the gardeners, a small pleasure during a time of little external stimulus.

“They took care of those seedlings as if they were their own children,” Julien says proudly. “And, when it comes to a plant, that makes a difference.”

Midori’s “confinement” seedlings were finally ready.
© Meredith Mullins

The Garden After Lockdown

When lockdown was finally lifted, the garden needed serious tending. First, the battle of the weeds took place (the weeds lost).

The battle of the weeds (the weeds lost)
© Meredith Mullins

Then, it was time to ready the soil for the planting of the sweet potato seedlings.

Choosing the best spots for the satsuma-imo seedlings
© Meredith Mullins

All systems were go. “The team was exceptional, always positive and humble,” Julien said. “It was not a case of ‘me, myself, and I,’ it was ‘what can WE do together to make this work.’”

The plants are now settling in to the warmth of the summer sun and will be ready for a late September or early October harvest.

The sweet potatoes have been gently planted and are now settling in for summer sun.
© Meredith Mullins

The Next Chapter

Aside from having the chance to speak in Japanese for a few hours every week and have a sweet potato harvest party in September, the real raison d’etre of all the Japanese community gardeners is to be close to nature.

“We need to re-create the bond we lost with nature as a whole and between ourselves. Nature has an incredible power to heal.” Julien believes. “We must work with nature, not against it.”

Working with nature, not against it
© Meredith Mullins

And so, after the sweet potato harvest in September—and a celebration of Satsuma-imo memories past and present—the team will plant fava beans immediately—to give back to the soil what the sweet potatoes needed to take.

Oh, I see. Crossing cultures continues on many levels . . . for humans and nature. The cycle continues in this urban garden, and life goes on.

Part of the Satsuma-imo Team (Julien, Manami, Midori, Hisako, and Chiharu)
© Meredith Mullins

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

For more information about Le Nid de l’Ortolan, visit their Facebook page. For more information about the Paris urban gardens, visit Charte Main Verte/Jardins Partagé.

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