- Driving south from the Chicago Botanical Garden, we approached the Baháʼí House of Worship in Wilmette, Illinois. It rose grandly above the neighborhood houses and trees, and we turned the car in that direction to take a closer look. Deeply intricate yet reserved in design, surrounded by gardens including one where a wedding had just concluded, nine-sided for reasons that resonate with the faith it represents, the building was beautiful and monumental and considered. I thought it spoke with intention, if that makes sense. #
- Over each of the arching entrances a tenet of the faith was carved in stone. This particular inscription caught my eye:#
- Oh rich ones on earth
The poor in your midst are my trust
Guard ye my trust#
- One of those tenets of the world's major religions that would change everything . . .#
- ~#
- The botanical garden was the most recent in a series we've seen on car trips in the last year or two. Chicago, Omaha, Denver, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Elkhart (Indiana), Fernwood (Michigan), Brooklyn and the Bronx. Throw in a handful of university campuses that aspire in that direction . . .#
- Each one is different, reflecting the financial resources of the region, the civic aspirations, the climate, soil, and botany of the region, the relationship to agriculture and ecology . . . #
- They show off some of the best aspirations of those societies and some of the beauties and resiliences of nature. They're good for morale, even if merely knowing of those virtues doesn't solve the crisis we're in, not remotely.#
- ~#
- Conversation turned to apartment buildings. You hear of buildings where people pass each other in the hallways and on the stairs for many years, say hello, but not much more. And you hear of a building where there is enough of a community space, a little courtyard strung with a couple of strings of lights, holding a few outdoor chairs and a couple of couches, where people relax enough to form a small community that says, Yes, we'll be a pod in the pandemic. Yes, we'll be more than pass-in-the-hall neighbors. We'll come to know each other's joys and sadnesses. We'll walk each other's dogs. We'll become like family as needed, standing in on holidays, yes, but maybe a few minutes every day or more often than that. If the design of the space makes it a little easier, and people are in a frame of mind for openness, they will create something together.#
- Driving south from the Chicago Botanical Garden, we approached the Baháʼí House of Worship in Wilmette, Illinois. It rose grandly above the neighborhood houses and trees, and we turned the car in that direction to take a closer look. Deeply intricate yet reserved in design, surrounded by gardens including one where a wedding had just concluded, nine-sided for reasons that resonate with the faith it represents, the building was beautiful and monumental and considered. I thought it spoke with intention, if that makes sense. #
- Over each of the arching entrances a tenet of the faith was carved in stone. This particular inscription caught my eye:#
- Oh rich ones on earth
The poor in your midst are my trust
Guard ye my trust#
- One of those tenets of the world's major religions that would change everything . . .#
- ~#
- The botanical garden was the most recent in a series we've seen on car trips in the last year or two. Chicago, Omaha, Denver, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Elkhart (Indiana), Fernwood (Michigan), Brooklyn and the Bronx. Throw in a handful of university campuses that aspire in that direction . . .#
- Each one is different, reflecting the financial resources of the region, the civic aspirations, the climate, soil, and botany of the region, the relationship to agriculture and ecology . . . #
- They show off some of the best aspirations of those societies and some of the beauties and resiliences of nature. They're good for morale, even if merely knowing of those virtues doesn't solve the crisis we're in, not remotely.#
- ~#
- Conversation turned to apartment buildings. You hear of buildings where people pass each other in the hallways and on the stairs for many years, say hello, but not much more. And you hear of a building where there is enough of a community space, a little courtyard strung with a couple of strings of lights, holding a few outdoor chairs and a couple of couches, where people relax enough to form a small community that says, Yes, we'll be a pod in the pandemic. Yes, we'll be more than pass-in-the-hall neighbors. We'll come to know each other's joys and sadnesses. We'll walk each other's dogs. We'll become like family as needed, standing in on holidays, yes, but maybe a few minutes every day or more often than that. If the design of the space makes it a little easier, and people are in a frame of mind for openness, they will create something together.#