Community Mapping Quotes

White people who want people of color to do the work for them, who want us to draw the map and then carry them on our back down the road that ends racism are still playing out the servant/served paradigm.

At the heart of loneliness is the absence of meaningful social interaction—an intimate relationship, friendships, family gatherings, or even community or work group connections.

The map of utopias is cluttered nowadays with experiments by other names, and the very idea is expanding. It needs to open up a little more to contain disaster communities. These remarkable societies suggest that, just as many machines reset themselves to their original settings after a power outage, human beings reset themselves to something altruistic, communitarian, resourceful and imaginative after a disaster, that we revert to something we already know how to do. The possibility of paradise is already within us as a default setting.

Design by community is not design by committee…design is never democratic.”[

Even religious people are vulnerable to this longing. Those who belong to communities of faith have acquired a certain patience with what is sometimes called organized religion. They have learned to forgive themselves. They do not expect their institutions to stand in for God, and they are happy to use inherited maps for some of life's journeys. They do not need to walk off every cliff all by themselves. Yet they too can harbor the sense that there is more to life that they are being shown. Where is the secret hidden? Who has the key to the treasure box of More?

As Smith later wrote, much of the suffering that lay ahead for the Pilgrims could easily have been avoided if they had seen fit to pay for his services or, at the very least, consult his map. “[S]uch humorists [i.e., fanatics] will never believe…,” he wrote, “till they be beaten with their own rod.

Many white Northerners wielded their power and voting pressure at home, even as they might have pressed for desegregation in the South, understanding that you didn't need a governor at a schoolhouse door if you had the Board of Education officials constantly readjusting school zoning lines to maintain segregated schools. You didn't need a burning cross if the bank used maps made by the Federal Housing Authority to mark Black neighborhoods as "dangerous" for investment and deny Black people home loans. You didn't need white vigilantes if the police were willing to protect and serve certain communities while containing and controlling others.

The wood wide web has been mapped, traced, monitored, and coaxed to reveal the beautiful structures and finely adapted languages of the forest network. We have learned that mother trees recognize and talk with their kin, shaping future generations. In addition, injured tress pass their legacies on to their neighbors, affecting gene regulation, defense chemistry, and resilience in the forest community. These discoveries have transformed our understanding of trees from competitive crusaders of the self to members of a connected, relating, communicating system. Ours is not the only lab making these discoveries-there is a burst of careful scientific research occurring worldwide that is uncovering all manner of ways that trees communicate with each other above and below ground.

Collaring neds for breaking and entering is one thing, managing the gay community outreach program and training constables is another, but international cybercrime in a nuclear bunker under Drum Brae is right off the map.

Whose maps are we trying to read? And what are we trying to draw? It's so common to live in a place without truly knowing its history, its systems, and the people who are different from you and who move through different versions of the city.

If you walk a city, if you love a city, if you put in your miles and years with open heart and mind, the city will reveal itself to you. Maybe it won't become yours, but you will become its - its chronicler, its pilgrim, its ardent lover, its nonnative son or native daughter or defender.

By mapping out possible futures, as well as a good many improbable ones, the science fiction writer does a great service to the community. He encourages in his readers flexibility of mind, readiness to accept and even welcome change—in one word, adaptability. Perhaps no attribute is more important in this age.

Recent Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago research has found, with a granular level of detail down to the city block, that the refusal to lend to Black families under the original 1930s redlining maps is responsible for as much as half of the current disparities between Black and white homeownership and for the gaps between the housing values of Black and white homes in those communities. Richard Rothstein, author of the seminal book on segregation, Color of Law: How the Government Segregated America, reminds us that there is no such thing as “de facto” segregation that is different from de jure (or legal) segregation. All segregation is the result of public policy, past and present.

Once and for all, we must embrace the fact that both women and men work in jobs outside their homes; that children need fantastic care; that our aging parents need tender attention; and that governments, companies, communities, and individuals need a common road map to address the massive, complex social issues involved in making life a little easier.

There is no final solution, no theory that will explain everything. There is no road map to a better society, no didactic ideology, no rule book. All we can do is choose our allies and our friends--our comrades, as [Ignazio Silone] puts it--with great care, for only with them, together, is it possible to avoid the temptations of the different forms of authoritarianism once again on offer. Because all authoritarianisms divide, polarize, and separate people into warring camps, the fight against them requires new coalitions. Together we can make old and misunderstood words like liberalism mean something again; together we can fight back against lies and liars; together we can rethink what democracy should look like in a digital age.

Russians live in a country that has borders with Europe at one end of their map and with Mongolia, China, Japan, and America at the other. Travel to the Inuit community living on Little Diomede Island in the Bering Strait and you can see Russia’s Great Diomede Island just two and a half miles away. Russians still dream of an undersea rail tunnel linking the two continents.

The forties are the time to rediscover community on a more realistic plane. Before this decade is out, if you are determined to become authentically yourself, you will find a way to assemble all the parts of your nature into one whole. You will have to stop pretending to be the person you have been and begin to recognize and ultimately accept who, or what, you are becoming.

It is not that the historian can avoid emphasis of some facts and not of others. This is as natural to him as to the mapmaker, who, in order to produce a usable drawing for practical purposes, must first flatten and distort the shape of the earth, then choose out of the bewildering mass of geographic information those things needed for the purpose of this or that particular map. My argument cannot be against selection, simplification, emphasis, which are inevitable for both cartographers and historians. But the map-maker's distortion is a technical necessity for a common purpose shared by all people who need maps. The historian's distortion is more than technical, it is ideological; it is released into a world of contending interests, where any chosen emphasis supports (whether the historian means to or not) some kind of interest, whether economic or political or racial or national or sexual. Furthermore, this ideological interest is not openly expressed in the way a mapmaker's technical interest is obvious ("This is a Mercator projection for long-range navigation-for short-range, you'd better use a different projection"). No, it is presented as if all readers of history had a common interest which historians serve to the best of their ability. This is not intentional deception; the historian has been trained in a society in which education and knowledge are put forward as technical problems of excellence and not as tools for contending social classes, races, nations. To emphasize the heroism of Columbus and his successors as navigators and discoverers, and to de-emphasize their genocide, is not a technical necessity but an ideological choice. It serves- unwittingly-to justify what was done. My point is not that we must, in telling history, accuse, judge, condemn Columbus in absentia. It is too late for that; it would be a useless scholarly exercise in morality. But the easy acceptance of atrocities as a deplorable but necessary price to pay for progress (Hiroshima and Vietnam, to save Western civilization; Kronstadt and Hungary, to save socialism; nuclear proliferation, to save us all)-that is still with us. One reason these atrocities are still with us is that we have learned to bury them in a mass of other facts, as radioactive wastes are buried in containers in the earth. We have learned to give them exactly the same proportion of attention that teachers and writers often give them in the most respectable of classrooms and textbooks. This learned sense of moral proportion, coming from the apparent objectivity of the scholar, is accepted more easily than when it comes from politicians at press conferences. It is therefore more deadly. The treatment of heroes (Columbus) and their victims (the Arawaks)-the quiet acceptance of conquest and murder in the name of progress-is only one aspect of a certain approach to history, in which the past is told from the point of view of governments, conquerors, diplomats, leaders. It is as if they, like Columbus, deserve universal acceptance, as if they-the Founding Fathers, Jackson, Lincoln, Wilson, Roosevelt, Kennedy, the leading members of Congress, the famous Justices of the Supreme Court-represent the nation as a whole. The pretense is that there really is such a thing as "the United States," subject to occasional conflicts and quarrels, but fundamentally a community of people with common interests. It is as if there really is a "national interest" represented in the Constitution, in territorial expansion, in the laws passed by Congress, the decisions of the courts, the development of capitalism, the culture of education and the mass media.

Last night, I spoke at one of the Circle Meetings of the Baptist Church. Afterward, a Kenyan friend, Wangari Waigwa-Stone, and I spoke about darkness and stars. “I was raised under an African sky,” she said. “Darkness was never something I was afraid of. The clarity, definition, and profusion of stars became maps as to how one navigates at night. I always knew where I was simply by looking up.” She paused. “My sons do not have these guides. They have no relationship to darkness, nothing in their imagination tells them there are pathways in the night they can move through.” “I have a Norwegian friend who says, ‘City lights are a conspiracy against higher thought,’ ” I added. “Indeed,” Wangari said, smiling, her rich, deep voice resonating. “I am Kikuyu. My people believe if you are close to the Earth, you are close to people.” “How so?” I asked. “What an African woman nurtures in the soil will eventually feed her family. Likewise, what she nurtures in her relations will ultimately nurture her community. It is a matter of living the circle. “Because we have forgotten our kinship with the land,” she continued, “our kinship with each other has become pale. We shy away from accountability and involvement. We choose to be occupied, which is quite different from being engaged. In America, time is money. In Kenya, time is relationship. We look at investments differently.

his wife fell in love with Central America and maintained contact with people in the villages she had visited, several of whom were devastated not long afterward by a government-ordered military genocide of the Mayan population, which left two hundred thousand people dead, 1.5 million displaced, and more than five hundred villages wiped off the map. The majority of the women who’d taught her their craft were murdered along with their families and communities.

High context cultures tend to have a long shared history. Usually they are relationship-oriented societies where networks of connections are passed on from generation to generation, generating more shared context among community members. Japan is an island society with a homogenous population and thousands of years of shared history, during a significant portion of which Japan was closed off from the rest of the world. Over these thousands of years, people became particularly skilled at picking up each other's messages - reading the air.

In the Negev in Israel, Israeli authorities have refused to legally recognize 35 Palestinian Bedouin communities, making it impossible for their 90,000 or so residents to live lawfully in the communities they have lived in for decades. Instead, authorities have sought to concentrate Bedouin communities in larger recognized townships in order, as expressed in governmental plans and statements by officials, to maximize the land available for Jewish communities. Israeli law considers all buildings in these unrecognized villages to be illegal, and authorities have refused to connect most to the national electricity or water grids or to provide even basic infrastructure such as paved roads or sewage systems. The communities do not appear on official maps, most have no educational facilities, and residents live under constant threat of having their homes demolished. Israeli authorities demolished more than 10,000 Bedouin homes in the Negev between 2013 and 2019, according to government data. They razed one unrecognized village that challenged the expropriation of its lands, al-Araqib, 185 times.

The de Sudeley mission of 1178 had its roots in the turbulent years of the 1st century CE when Roman legions were advancing on Jerusalem and secret scrolls, maps and artifacts were hidden in the tunnels below the subterranean area of the Temple Mount. As I have recounted, in the early years of the 12th century, these items were found by early members of the Knights Templar. More than fifty years later, after much planning, de Sudeley completed a mission likely first envisioned by his Templar predecessors in Jerusalem. He left a detailed log compiled during the voyage, describing the year he spent in Onteora with the community that guarded the scrolls. He recorded geographic sites he had been to, Native Americans he met, and the community of Welsh and Norse he lived with in the Hunter Mountain area. His account was added to the existing record kept by the Templars at Castrum Sepulchri. Latin was the common language at this time, and the monk who recorded de Sudeley's deposition used it to write the record entitled, "A Year We Remember." This account was then added to the writings from the earlier 12th century Templar excavations in Jerusalem to comprise parts of the Templar Document.

Why are you saying this?” she whispered, her face ashen. “So you won’t have any illusions about your little nest here! We can use you, do you understand? As long as you are useful to the community, you’ll be allowed to live here like a princess. Just as long as you’re useful.” “Useful, how? No one wants to look at my paintings. I’ve finished the maps and drawings of the trip.” “I’m going to dissect your every thought, your every wish, every dream. I’m going to find out what happened to you, what made you separate yourself from your sisters, what made you decide to become an individual, and when I find out we’ll know how never to allow it to happen again.

invisible. Yet in our new Anthropocene science, the boundaries are not so clean. As we observe the world, the lens is part of the photograph. As I’ve discussed, climate modeling is hard enough even when the modelers are not themselves part of what is being modeled. Ecologists, accustomed to studying various biomes, or communities of organisms existing in specialized environments, are now studying “anthromes,” where human activities have become part of ecological systems. Rather than simply ignore or deplore croplands, rangelands, parks, cities, and managed forests, we can put them in our maps and models and decide how we want to integrate them into the world. The

You are from alone in the community of scientists, and here is a professional secret to encourage you: many of the most successful scientists in the world today are mathematically no more than semiliterate. A metaphor will clarify the paradox in this statement. Where elite mathematicians often serve as architects of theory in the expanding realm of science, the remaining large majority of basic and applied scientists map the terrain, scout the frontier, cut the pathways, and raise the first buildings along the way. They define the problems that mathematicians, on occasion, may help solve. They think primarily in images and facts, and only marginally in mathematics.

An obituary of a librarian could be about anything under the sun, a woman with a phenomenal memory, who recalled the books her again patrons read as children - and was also, incidentally, the best sailor on her stretch of the Maine coast - or a man obsessed with maps, who helped automate the Library of Congress’s map catalog and paved the way for wonders like Google Maps… Whether the subject was a community librarian or a prophet, almost every librarian obituary contained some version of this sentence: “Under [their] watch, the library changed from a collection of books into an automated research center.” I began to get the idea that libraries were where it was happening - wide open territory for innovators, activists, and pioneers.

whether lack of privacy isn’t the worst thing about a small town, and she says, And also the best. I love going to the post office in the morning and knowing everybody. The only time we honk a car horn is with a wave. It’s touching when somebody asks about my son or my dad’s health. We can’t afford not to care about other people in a place this small. Our survival, in a way, depends on minimizing privacy because the lack of it draws us into each other’s lives, and that’s a major resource in a little town where there aren’t a thousand entertainments. There’s an elderly man who lost his little granddaughter to a drunk, a hit-and-run driver, a few months ago. Every time the old gentleman comes into the Emma Chase, he retells the story, and every time people listen. What’s that worth to a person? Or to a community? A café like this serves to bond us.

Jed, it can be hard to tell the difference between an outcast and a pioneer. What if you’re meant to be the example you needed? What if God gave you your personality, your unique skill set, to equip you to walk into the wilderness and show that it can be done?” I stared at him while the question expanded in my chest. I hadn’t thought of it like that before. “And trust me,” he continued, “those examples are out there, just maybe not in your community. So look hard, read everything, pray, and move in the direction of what’s right. God will correct your steps, but you must first start walking. That’s what ‘walk in faith’ means.” My mentor didn’t say it just like that. It was years ago and I’m sure my memory has embellished it. But that conversation changed my life. Just because you don’t have a road map doesn’t mean you aren’t meant to walk in the direction of your convictions. Look at your gifts, your skills. You may be a pioneer.

I accepted the different explanations of what had caused this or that, how the international community had warned about such-and-such decision, how the Balkans had long had an explosive history—how one must factor in the ethnic and religious divisions that pervaded that corner of the world, and the legacy of socialism too. I accepted the story I heard on foreign media: that the Albanian Civil War could be explained not by the collapse of a flawed financial system but by the long-standing animosities between different ethnic groups, the Ghegs in the north and the Tosks in the south. I accepted it despite its absurdity, despite the fact that I didn’t know what I counted as, whether both or neither. I accepted it although my mother was a Gheg and my father a Tosk, and throughout their married life only their political and class divisions had ever mattered, never the accents with which they spoke. I accepted it, as we all did, as we accepted the liberal road map we had followed like a religious calling, as we accepted that its plan could be disrupted only by outside factors—like the backwardness of our own community norms—and never be beset by its own contradictions.

The state does not take a merely temporal regulatory role and leave salvation in the hands of the church; rather, the modern state seeks to replace the church by itself becoming a soteriological institution.16 It is in this sense, then, that the modern state is a parody of the church: “The body of the state is a simulacrum, a false copy, of the Body of Christ” (RONT, 182). As a result, while political rhetoric may suggest that the state is confined to a “public” sphere or that the reign of the secular is circumscribed, in fact the modern state demands complete allegiance, and the reign of the secular does not tolerate territories of resistance.17 The state is happy to absorb all kinds of private pursuits under the umbrella of civil society, but it cannot tolerate a religious community that claims to be the only authentic polis and proclaims a king who is a rival to both Caesar and Leviathan. In such a case, this community’s allegiance to its king ultimately trumps its allegiance to the state or empire, and its understanding of the nature of human persons does not fit the normative picture of liberalism. This the state cannot tolerate. It is in this sense that “every worship service is a challenge to Caesar.

THE GLOBE | Unlocking the Wealth in Rural Markets Mamta Kapur, Sanjay Dawar, and Vineet R. Ahuja | 151 words In India and other large emerging economies, rural markets hold great promise for boosting corporate earnings. Companies that sell in the countryside, however, face poor infrastructure, widely dispersed customers, and other challenges. To better understand the obstacles and how to overcome them, the authors—researchers with Accenture—conducted extensive surveys and interviews with Indian business leaders in multiple industries. Their three-year study revealed several successful strategies for increasing revenues and profits in rural markets: Start with a good distribution plan. The most effective approaches are multipronged—for example, adding extra layers to existing networks and engaging local partners to create new ones. Mine data to identify prospective customers. Combining site visits, market surveys, and GIS mapping can help companies discover new buyers. Forge tight bonds with channel partners. It pays to spend time and money helping distributors and retailers improve their operations. Create durable ties with customers. Companies can build loyalty by addressing customers’ welfare and winning the trust of community leaders.

A few months following the release of Mapping Police Violence, the Washington Post and the Guardian released their own versions of the database. However, each had certain limitations: the Washington Post, for instance, only included instances of killings by officers who used guns, meaning that if an officer choked someone to death, that death would not be included; the Guardian omitted some off-duty killings. And each of those versions has data going back only as far as 2015, limiting the ability to identify trends and patterns over time. In spite of the challenges, different methodological choices, and the likelihood that a small proportion of police violence incidents slip past media outlets, especially in smaller towns without newspapers or digital media, the overall findings were clear and compelling. We found that police kill twelve hundred people each year in America,* meaning one in every three people killed by a stranger in this country is killed by a police officer.* An additional fifty thousand people are hospitalized each year after being injured by police.* This violence disproportionately impacts black communities. Black people are three times more likely to be killed by police than their white counterparts and are more likely to be unarmed when killed.* Black people are more likely to be stopped, searched, arrested,* and subjected to police use of force.* Police violence is so prevalent in black communities

Jews, notably, were defined as a ‘people’, while others, not even identified, were referred to only as ‘communities’. It was an extraordinary phrase that echoes down the decades and explains why Balfour is remembered a century later by Arabs as the architect of perfidy and disaster.16 Zionists, for opposite reasons, revere his memory; Balfour Street in Jerusalem is still the site of the official residence of the Israeli prime minister. The reservation had been inserted in the text to meet the strong objections raised by Lord Curzon, the former British viceroy of India and, as lord president of the council, an influential member of the war cabinet. Curzon – reflecting contemporary perceptions about the map and identity of the region – had referred to the ‘Syrian Arabs’ who had ‘occupied [Palestine] for the best part of 1,500 years’, and asked what would become of them. ‘They will not be content either to be expropriated for Jewish immigrants or to act merely as hewers of wood and drawers of water to the latter’, he predicted with the help of another then familiar biblical reference.17 The declaration’s second reservation – about the rights of Jews in other countries – was a response to the opposition of Edwin Montagu, the secretary of state for India, even though he was not in the war cabinet. Montagu was a Jewish grandee who feared that an official expression of sympathy for Zionism in fact masked anti-Semitic prejudice and would undermine the hard-won position of British Jews and their co-religionists elsewhere in the world. However, it did not weaken his vehement opposition, any more than the words about ‘non-Jewish communities’ assuaged Arab fears. Over time, Jewish attitudes to Zionism would change significantly; Arab attitudes, by and large, did not.

On 20 July 1969, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landed on the surface of the moon. In the months leading up to their expedition, the Apollo 11 astronauts trained in a remote moon-like desert in the western United States. The area is home to several Native American communities, and there is a story – or legend – describing an encounter between the astronauts and one of the locals. One day as they were training, the astronauts came across an old Native American. The man asked them what they were doing there. They replied that they were part of a research expedition that would shortly travel to explore the moon. When the old man heard that, he fell silent for a few moments, and then asked the astronauts if they could do him a favour. ‘What do you want?’ they asked. ‘Well,’ said the old man, ‘the people of my tribe believe that holy spirits live on the moon. I was wondering if you could pass an important message to them from my people.’ ‘What’s the message?’ asked the astronauts. The man uttered something in his tribal language, and then asked the astronauts to repeat it again and again until they had memorised it correctly. ‘What does it mean?’ asked the astronauts. ‘Oh, I cannot tell you. It’s a secret that only our tribe and the moon spirits are allowed to know.’ When they returned to their base, the astronauts searched and searched until they found someone who could speak the tribal language, and asked him to translate the secret message. When they repeated what they had memorised, the translator started to laugh uproariously. When he calmed down, the astronauts asked him what it meant. The man explained that the sentence they had memorised so carefully said, ‘Don’t believe a single word these people are telling you. They have come to steal your lands.’ Empty Maps

Whereas the slave cargoes gathered on the African coast reconfigured the normative boundaries of social life, the slave communities in the Americas exploded those boundaries beyond recognition. If an Akan-speaking migrant lived to complete a year on a west Indian sugar estate, he or she was likely by the end of that time to have come into close contact with unrelated Akan strangers as well as with Ga, Guan, or Adangbe speakers in the holding station on the African littoral, with Ewe speakers on the slave ship, and with Angolans, Biafrans, and Senegambians on the plantation. This was the composite we call diasporic Africa—an Africa that constituted not the continent on European maps, but rather the plurality of remembered places immigrant slaves carried with them. Like any geographic entity, diasporic Africa varies according to the perspective from which it is surveyed. Viewed from a cartographic standpoint (in essence, the view of early modern Europeans), diasporic Africa is a constellation of discrete ethnic and language groups; if one adopts this perspective, the defining question becomes whether or not the various constituent groups in the slave community shared a culture. Only by approaching these questions from the vantage point of Africans as migrants, however, can we hope to understand how Africans themselves experienced and negotiated their American worlds. If in the regime of the market Africans’ most socially relevant feature was their exchangeability, for Africans as immigrants the most socially relevant feature was their isolation, their desperate need to restore some measure of social life to counterbalance the alienation engendered by their social death. Without some means of achieving that vital equilibrium thanks to which even the socially dead could expect to occupy a viable place in society, slaves could foresee only further descent into an endless purgatory.

What exogenous causes are shifting the allocation of moral intuitions away from community, authority, and purity and toward fairness, autonomy, and rationality? One obvious force is geographic and social mobility. People are no longer confined to the small worlds of family, village, and tribe, in which conformity and solidarity are essential to daily life, and ostracism and exile are a form of social death. They can seek their fortunes in other circles, which expose them to alternative worldviews and lead them into a more ecumenical morality, which gravitates to the rights of individuals rather than chauvinistic veneration of the group. By the same token, open societies, where talent, ambition, or luck can dislodge people from the station in which they were born, are less likely to see an Authority Ranking as an inviolable law of nature, and more likely to see it as a historical artifact or a legacy of injustice. When diverse individuals mingle, engage in commerce, and find themselves on professional or social teams that cooperate to attain a superordinate goal, their intuitions of purity can be diluted. One example, mentioned in chapter 7, is the greater tolerance of homosexuality among people who personally know homosexuals. Haidt observes that when one zooms in on an electoral map of the United States, from the coarse division into red and blue states to a finer-grained division into red and blue counties, one finds that the blue counties, representing the regions that voted for the more liberal presidential candidate, cluster along the coasts and major waterways. Before the advent of jet airplanes and interstate highways, these were the places where people and their ideas most easily mixed. That early advantage installed them as hubs of transportation, commerce, media, research, and education, and they continue to be pluralistic—and liberal—zones today. Though American political liberalism is by no means the same as classical liberalism, the two overlap in their weighting of the moral spheres. The micro-geography of liberalism suggests that the moral trend away from community, authority, and purity is indeed an effect of mobility and cosmopolitanism.202

It is the very impersonal quality of urban life, which is lived among strangers, that accounts for intensified religious feeling. For in the village of old, religion was a natural extension of the daily traditions and routine of life among the extended family; but migrations to the city brought Muslims into the anonymity of slum existence, and to keep the family together and the young from drifting into crime, religion has had to be reinvented in starker, more ideological form. In this way states weaken, or at least have to yield somewhat, to new and sometimes extreme kinds of nationalism and religiosity advanced by urbanization. Thus, new communities take hold that transcend traditional geography, even as they make for spatial patterns of their own. Great changes in history often happen obscurely.10 A Eurasia and North Africa of vast, urban concentrations, overlapping missile ranges, and sensational global media will be one of constantly enraged crowds, fed by rumors and half-truths transported at the speed of light by satellite channels across the rimlands and heartland expanse, from one Third World city to another. Conversely, the crowd, empowered by social media like Twitter and Facebook, will also be fed by the very truth that autocratic rulers have denied it. The crowd will be key in a new era where the relief map will be darkened by densely packed megacities—the crowd being a large group of people who abandon their individuality in favor of an intoxicating collective symbol. Elias Canetti, the Bulgarian-born Spanish Jew and Nobel laureate in literature, became so transfixed and terrified at the mob violence over inflation that seized Frankfurt and Vienna between the two world wars that he devoted much of his life to studying the human herd in all its manifestations. The signal insight of his book Crowds and Power, published in 1960, was that we all yearn to be inside some sort of crowd, for in a crowd—or a mob, for that matter—there is shelter from danger and, by inference, from loneliness. Nationalism, extremism, the yearning for democracy are all the products of crowd formations and thus manifestations of seeking to escape from loneliness. It is loneliness, alleviated by Twitter and Facebook, that ultimately leads to the breakdown of traditional authority and the erection of new kinds.

The radial patterning of Protestantism allows us to use a county’s proximity to Wittenberg to isolate—in a statistical sense—that part of the variation in Protestantism that we know is due to a county’s proximity to Wittenberg and not to greater literacy or other factors. In a sense, we can think of this as an experiment in which different counties were experimentally assigned different dosages of Protestantism to test for its effects. Distance from Wittenberg allows us to figure out how big that experimental dosage was. Then, we can see if this “assigned” dosage of Protestantism is still associated with greater literacy and more schools. If it is, we can infer from this natural experiment that Protestantism did indeed cause greater literacy.16 The results of this statistical razzle-dazzle are striking. Not only do Prussian counties closer to Wittenberg have higher shares of Protestants, but those additional Protestants are associated with greater literacy and more schools. This indicates that the wave of Protestantism created by the Reformation raised literacy and schooling rates in its wake. Despite Prussia’s having a high average literacy rate in 1871, counties made up entirely of Protestants had literacy rates nearly 20 percentile points higher than those that were all Catholic.18 FIGURE P.2. The percentage of Protestants in Prussian counties in 1871.17 The map highlights some German cities, including the epicenter of the Reformation, Wittenberg, and Mainz, the charter town where Johannes Gutenberg produced his eponymous printing press. These same patterns can be spotted elsewhere in 19th-century Europe—and today—in missionized regions around the globe. In 19th-century Switzerland, other aftershocks of the Reformation have been detected in a battery of cognitive tests given to Swiss army recruits. Young men from all-Protestant districts were not only 11 percentile points more likely to be “high performers” on reading tests compared to those from all-Catholic districts, but this advantage bled over into their scores in math, history, and writing. These relationships hold even when a district’s population density, fertility, and economic complexity are kept constant. As in Prussia, the closer a community was to one of the two epicenters of the Swiss Reformation—Zurich or Geneva—the more Protestants it had in the 19th century. Notably, proximity to other Swiss cities, such as Bern and Basel, doesn’t reveal this relationship. As is the case in Prussia, this setup allows us to finger Protestantism as driving the spread of greater literacy as well as the smaller improvements in writing and math abilities.

In the period after the fall of Jerusalem, Jews were again expelled from their holy city and their fortunes scattered to foreign winds. Again, they were exiles. It was to this juncture in history that the Cochini Jews attributed the arrival of the first large-scale community of Jewish migrants from Israeli to Indian soil. The Kerala coastline was already on the map of the Jewish people due to trading links that went back almost a millennium. Now in their moment of desperation, the Jews of Israel came not as

Last but not least, knowledge mapping's contextualizing capability facilitates community-wide consensual innovation assessment.

Half way through life a thoughtful person must undertake an honest assessment of their life. I am now fifty years old. I am rapidly turning into a dry stalk, my breath is sour, and I am beginning to smell of the grave. I melancholy project that in all probability I have now existed about half the period of time that I shall remain in this sublunary world. Resembling the trajectory of other men reaching middle age, my upward ascent in life crested and now I am commencing the meteoric downhill descent. Distinct from Americas’ pioneers and other luminaries whom played an important role in expanding our knowledge and deepened our appreciation of nature, I have done nothing to advance the human condition. I have not mapped any new territory, contributed to the arts or sciences, or expanded our comprehension of mathematics or the natural sciences: astronomy, biology, chemistry, the Earth sciences, and physics. I did not contribute to medicine, cognitive science, behavioral science, social science, or the humanities. Unlike revered social leaders whom advocated peaceful relations with all people, I remained mute while domestic and international conflicts sundered communities. I created no historical existence; I exist only as an introspective being. I have not added one iota to the bank of knowledge of succeeding generations. I have not added any quarter of happiness to other people. My contribution to the human race is nil. In all probability, I will flame out without leaving a lasting trace of my mundane personal existence.

The fact is that all roads lead to Rome. Eventually, regardless of what you choose to do, you will end up having the experiences you came here for. You may have spiritual amnesia and find yourself getting lost again and again, but your soul is always right there next to you, waiting for you to wake up and pay attention to what it has to tell you. It will make sure you have the experiences it wants you to have, even when you’re taking every back road and “wrong” turn. Trust it! When you add your light to the sum of Light and co-create wholeheartedly, mindfully, and respectfully in community with others, you are doing what you came here to do. You will be on the right road even if it seems you are taking the long way and wasting time. If you think about it, why wouldn’t you take the scenic route rather than the highway? Are you in a rush to get somewhere? What’s the destination? Get rid of the mentality that you are going “to” some specific place on the map—trying to create some specific situation that will allow you to be happy ever after. Life will always change, and you will always be in motion. So the scenic route is a back road—not the most direct, fastest way to what you think you want to experience. Guess what? You can experience joy, abundance—whatever you seek—wherever you are. And your soul may want something more: the experience of opening your heart and your eyes in compassion. You may have to take a back road to have that experience because you probably don’t have “develop deeper understanding of people who frustrate me” and “experience the bittersweetness of life” on your small self’s list of goals to accomplish. Remember, your soul takes winding paths to get the experiences it wants to have. It is working with Spirit to co-create a reality your small self might not be conscious of—although

We are all storytellers, and if we listen deeply and share honestly, we will find that wonderful feeling of community and wisdom in the archetypal themes we all share as we evolve collectively—themes such as freedom, playfulness, mastery, and learning. None of us is meant to be an island, isolating and hoarding resources. When we share our wisdom and support and resources with others, we immediately dispel the illusion of scarcity. We remember that the matrix of connection sustains us regardless of what we want to create or what form our creativity takes. If you are willing to step into those uncharted waters, leaving your old self behind with love to discover who you really are and why you’re here, you will find that you’ll be in a collaborative process. You always have access to the guidance of Spirit, and you always have your soul’s map.

Groups are, in a sense, a microcosm of the real world. In all groups, there are leaders and followers . . . and many people who fall somewhere in between. Some groups are professionally led, and some are self- or volunteer-directed. In every group, there will be people you like and people you don’t, people who seek you out, and people who do not. Understanding and joining in the group process and making it work for you is what is important. Experiment with several groups, if you like, to find the ones that you enjoy the most. Strive to find a group in which you think you would feel comfortable expressing yourself or interacting with others and which has an appropriate meaning for you (a self-help group should address your particular issues; a hobby club should focus on something you enjoy). Attend the group a few times to get a sense of how members interact with each other. If the thought of doing so still causes you anxiety, continue working on stress management, and remain fairly passive in the group until you feel more comfortable. In my own social therapy group program, our purpose is to help individuals learn how to control social anxiety and refine their interactive skills. Social anxiety is a people-oriented problem, which makes group experience important both theoretically and practically. Some traditional therapists have called my program unorthodox because it encourages patients to talk to and learn from each other—as opposed to the isolation and protection offered by many of the more conservative therapies. But I say that social interaction is something you learn by doing. My groups are places to practice, make mistakes, and experience success in a supportive yet challenging environment. Of course, even in such a supportive setting, resistance still arises. In a “friendly” forum, stressors can be explored and confronted more easily, however, and I have found that the degree to which a person uses the group is often a good indicator of how well he or she is progressing therapeutically. Good attendance shows effort and commitment; poor attendance indicates that a person is giving in to anxiety. I’ve heard all the excuses and manipulations—canceling plans is typical of people with avoidance problems related to social anxiety. (I’m sometimes tempted to open a garage to repair all those cars that break down on group night!) Yet often, after overcoming the initial stage of anxiety, many participants enjoy the process. As you consider the option of incorporating various kinds of groups in your community into your self-help program, remember that groups can be a very important component of your map for change. Groups can provide you with the opportunity to practice the skills that are crucial to your success. Make sure that your expectations are realistic and that you understand the purpose and the limitations of whatever group you join.

You’ve begun to master several techniques for controlling your anxiety. You’re learning the finer points of interaction and studying ways to apply your interactive skills. The next step is to add community resources—relevant agencies, groups, and organizations—to your self-help program. As you consider your particular needs, look to your own community for ways to enhance your social system: Parks and recreation departments, churches and synagogues, singles groups, self-help groups, clubs, volunteer organizations, business associations—there is an infinite array of resources to choose from. Contact your local chamber of commerce, consult newspapers for upcoming activities, and even inquire at area shops about any clubs or groups that share an interest (for example, ask at a garden center about a garden club, at a bookstore about a book club, and so on). Working through the exercises in this book is merely one component of a total self-help program. To progress from background knowledge to practical application, you must venture beyond your home and workplace (and beyond the confines of a therapist’s office, if you are in counseling). For people with social anxiety an outside system of resources is the best place to work on interactive difficulties. Here are three excellent reasons to use community resources: 1. To facilitate self-help. Conquering social anxiety necessitates interaction and involvement within the community, which is your laboratory. Using community resources creates a practical means of refining your skills and so moving forward on your individual map for change. 2. To diminish loneliness. Becoming part of the community provides the opportunity to develop personal and professional contacts that can enhance your life in many ways. 3. To network. Community involvement will not only give you the chance to improve your interactive skills, but will allow you to promote your academic or work life as well as your social life. Building connections on different levels can be the key. Any setting can provide a good opportunity for networking. In fact, I met the writer who helped me with this book in a fairly unlikely place—on the basketball court! A mutual friend introduced us, and when the subject of our professional interests came up, we saw the opportunity to work together on this project. You never know!

Expanding on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, recent research shows that finding a sense of belonging in close social relationships and with our community is essential to well-being.

Charles Darwin “could be considered a professional outsider,” according to creativity researcher Dean Keith Simonton. Darwin was not a university faculty member nor a professional scientist at any institution, but he was networked into the scientific community. For a time, he focused narrowly on barnacles, but got so tired of it that he declared, “I am unwilling to spend more time on the subject,” in the introduction to a barnacle monograph. Like the 3M generalists and polymaths, he got bored sticking in one area, so that was that. For his paradigm-shattering work, Darwin’s broad network was crucial. Howard Gruber, a psychologist who studied Darwin’s journals, wrote that Darwin only personally carried out experiments “opportune for experimental attack by a scientific generalist such as he was.” For everything else, he relied on correspondents, Jayshree Seth style. Darwin always juggled multiple projects, what Gruber called his “network of enterprise.” He had at least 231 scientific pen pals who can be grouped roughly into thirteen broad themes based on his interests, from worms to human sexual selection. He peppered them with questions. He cut up their letters to paste pieces of information in his own notebooks, in which “ideas tumble over each other in a seemingly chaotic fashion.” When his chaotic notebooks became too unwieldy, he tore pages out and filed them by themes of inquiry. Just for his own experiments with seeds, he corresponded with geologists, botanists, ornithologists, and conchologists in France, South Africa, the United States, the Azores, Jamaica, and Norway, not to mention a number of amateur naturalists and some gardeners he happened to know. As Gruber wrote, the activities of a creator “may appear, from the outside, as a bewildering miscellany,” but he or she can “map” each activity onto one of the ongoing enterprises. “In some respects,” Gruber concluded, “Charles Darwin’s greatest works represent interpretative compilations of facts first gathered by others.” He was a lateral-thinking integrator.

In the 1930s, the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC) used color-coded maps that encouraged mortgage lenders to withhold credit from certain communities in 239 cities. These maps graded areas—A (“best”—green), B (“still desirable”—blue), C (“definitely declining”—yellow), and D (“hazardous”—red)—encouraging lending in predominantly white and more affluent areas and discouraging lending in areas with residents of color, especially “Negroes.

We open up little windows into our relationship for our community to bear witness, and we do this because we want to make maps to the future and not monuments to ourselves.

As you make your way through this book, you’ll see that in order to recognize, name, and make sense of our feelings and experiences, we have to: Understand how they show up in our bodies and why (biology) Get curious about how our families and communities shape our beliefs about the connection between our feelings, thoughts, and behavior (biography) Examine our go-to (behaviors), and Recognize the context of what we’re feeling or thinking. What brought this on? (backstory) These are the questions that help us make meaning of our lives.

Everywhere we learn that love is important, and yet we are bombarded by its failure. In the realm of the political,among the religious, in our families, and in our romantic lives, we see little indication that love informs decisions, strengthens our understanding of community, or keeps us together. This bleak picture in no way alters the nature of our longing. We still hope that love will prevail. We still believe in love’s promise.

As in 1854, the amateurs are producing the most interesting work, precisely because they have the most textured, granular experience of their community.

As Smith later wrote, much of the suffering that lay ahead for the Pilgrims could easily have been avoided if they had seen fit to pay for his services or, at the very least, consult his map. “[ S] uch humorists [i.e., fanatics] will never believe…,” he wrote, “till they be beaten with their own rod.

Dissolution 29 The Spread of Settlement—1607 to 1624 34 Towns, Plantations, Settlements, and Communities in Virginia: 1607-1624 (numbers are keyed to text and to illustrating map) 32, 33 1. Pasbehegh Country—1617 35 A. Argall Town—1617 36 B. Pasbehegh—c.1617 37 C. "the Maine"—1608 37 2. Smith's (Southampton) Hundred—1617 38 3. "Tanks Weyanoke"—c.1618 41 4. Swinhows—before 1622 43 5. Westover—c.1619 43 6. Berkeley Town and Hundred—1619 44 7. Causey's Care (or "Cleare")—c.1620 46 8. West and Shirley Hundred—c.1613 47 9. Upper Hundred-"Curls"—c.1613

in cases where a person’s reputation is not threatened, and where data disappears or at least doesn’t “stick” to its target, site- and community-specific interventions are often the best avenues for remediation. These interventions can include amended Terms of Use agreements, efficient comment moderation protocols, and of course liberal use of the banhammer

trolls on the early web were thus understood as digital matter out of place. Not only were these trolls a threat to the utopian dream of early cyberspace, they gestured to the norms against which their behaviors were said to transgress—namely that “true” identities do not deceive, that any form of deception undermines community formation, and even more basically, that pure communication is naturally and necessarily preferable to some inauthentic alternative.

Caroline’s project faces extreme uncertainty: there had never been a volunteer campaign of this magnitude at HP before. How confident should she be that she knows the real reasons people aren’t volunteering? Most important, how much does she really know about how to change the behavior of hundreds of thousand people in more than 170 countries? Barlerin’s goal is to inspire her colleagues to make the world a better place. Looked at that way, her plan seems full of untested assumptions—and a lot of vision. In accordance with traditional management practices, Barlerin is spending time planning, getting buy-in from various departments and other managers, and preparing a road map of initiatives for the first eighteen months of her project. She also has a strong accountability framework with metrics for the impact her project should have on the company over the next four years. Like many entrepreneurs, she has a business plan that lays out her intentions nicely. Yet despite all that work, she is—so far—creating one-off wins and no closer to knowing if her vision will be able to scale. One assumption, for example, might be that the company’s long-standing values included a commitment to improving the community but that recent economic trouble had resulted in an increased companywide strategic focus on short-term profitability. Perhaps longtime employees would feel a desire to reaffirm their values of giving back to the community by volunteering. A second assumption could be that they would find it more satisfying and therefore more sustainable to use their actual workplace skills in a volunteer capacity, which would have a greater impact on behalf of the organizations to which they donated their time. Also lurking within Caroline’s plans are many practical assumptions about employees’ willingness to take the time to volunteer, their level of commitment and desire, and the way to best reach them with her message. The Lean Startup model offers a way to test these hypotheses rigorously, immediately, and thoroughly. Strategic planning takes months to complete; these experiments could begin immediately. By starting small, Caroline could prevent a tremendous amount of waste down the road without compromising her overall vision. Here’s what it might look like if Caroline were to treat her project as an experiment.

Grace Lee Boggs was both product and producer of an improbable history. “I grew up in New York as a first generation Chinese American in an all-Caucasian community with no role models,” she once told an audience. “So I realized early on that I had to blaze my own trail.” It was this background, she continued, that likely “predisposed me to make so many unconventional decisions when I became an adult, for example, to become an activist in the African American community and to marry an African American worker.” 1 On other occasions, she attributed the origins of her “revolutionary activism to a combination of my mother’s rebelliousness and my father’s commitment to country and community.” 2 By mapping what can be known of her childhood, early intellectual development, and formal education, we can identify central experiences and influences during the first quarter century of her life that called forth and shaped her subsequent political commitments and intellectual work.

Among the hidden and irregular communities of madmen, paranoids, sorcerers, those who had Broken Through to the city behind and above the city of their births, there was a certain community or anticommunity, there was a guarded and untrustworthy exchange of information. They were the wanderers of the City Beyond, the Via Obscura, the Thousand-Fold Path, the Metacontext, die Träumenstadt, the Gears, the Slew, Time Itself, whatever you wanted to call it. (From time to time he’d suggested the Song, or the Chorus—neither caught on.) They bartered maps and keys and rumors of the Mountain.

A highlight of the program was the unveiling of a shower-curtain-sized map of the community prepared by Barbara Black’s fifth-grade students. The map included dozens of small clear pockets, each displaying a card documenting the vital statistics of one of Antrim’s thriving small businesses.

Materialism, it seems fair to say, has neuroscience in a chokehold and has had it there since the nineteenth century. Indeed, there are those in the neuroscience community whose reductionist bent is so extreme that they have made it their crusade "to eliminate mind language entirely," as the British neuroscientist Steven Rose bluntly puts it. In other words, notions such as feeling, and memory, and attention, and will-all crucial elements of mind-are to be replaced with neurochemical reactions. This materialist, reductionist camp holds that when we have mapped a mental process to a location in the brain, and when we've worked out the sequence of neurochemical releases and uptakes that is associated with it, we have indeed fully explained, and more important understood, the phenomenon in question. Mystery explained. Case closed.

Research from several domains suggests that colleges can improve student learning by mapping out programs using learning outcomes that are aligned with student goals beyond just program completion.

It is therefore not going beyond what is fully granted by facts, to maintain that a general loss of interest in life, of the joie de vivre, the cutting of all the bonds of intense interest, which bind members of a human community to existence, will result in their giving up the desire to live altogether, and that therefore they will fall an easy prey to any disease, as well as fail to multiply.

In the book Seeing Like a State, the anthropologist James Scott of Yale University documents the ways in which governments, in their fetish for quantification and data, end up making people’s lives miserable rather than better. They use maps to determine how to reorganize communities rather than learn anything about the people on the ground. They use long tables of data about harvests to decide to collectivize agriculture without knowing a whit about farming. They take all the imperfect, organic ways in which people have interacted over time and bend them to their needs, sometimes just to satisfy a desire for quantifiable order. The use of data, in Scott’s view, often serves to empower the powerful.

In the culture of The Icarus Project some years ago we developed a rough prototype of a document we call a Wellness Map (or affectionately a “Mad Map”). It’s a very practical document to be written in good health and shared with friends and loved ones and it starts with the simple (yet not always easy to answer) question: How are you when you’re well? What does wellness look like to you? This question is followed by: What are the signs that you’re not so well? and eventually: What are the steps that you and your community need to take to get you back to wellness?

Home, then, becomes a quest driven by the belief that peace and rest are out there somewhere, if only you could find them on a map, or in a career field, or among a community of people who finally “get you.

As the previous chapter showed, mobile communities of foragers have good reasons to limit population growth. But if they settle down, those limits to population growth can be relaxed. Babies do not need to be carried so much; grain-based diets (particularly if foods are cooked) make it possible to wean children earlier; birth intervals will shorten; and females will reach puberty earlier.

The efficiency of information exchanges reflects, above all, the nature and regularity of contacts and exchanges between different communities.

most of human history (chronologically speaking) has taken place in communities quite innocent of state power.

though they are on the whole less violent, personal relations in modern urban communities also lack the intimacy and continuity of those in most traditional societies. Increasingly, they are casual, anonymous, and fleeting.

In the heart of Missouri, where the land tells tales of time and toil, lies the town of Leeton. This place, founded in 1895 and named for J. J. Lee, is more than coordinates on a map; it’s a community where stories are woven into the very fabric of daily life. As dawn breaks, the sun casts a warm glow over Leeton’s historic buildings and the Rock Island Spur trailhead of the Katy Trail. The town may be small, with just over 500 souls, but its spirit is as boundless as the skies above, anchored in the values of hard work, resilience, and the warmth of neighborly love. Among the town’s cherished residents is a figure simply known as “Cowboy.” A man of action, his life is a testament to the Western ethos of helping others and living a life of integrity. Cowboy’s connection to Leeton runs deep; it’s not merely where he resides—it’s the community he actively shapes with his presence. Cowboy’s story is interwoven with Leeton’s rich history, the joyous sounds of children at play, the steadfastness of farmers in the fields, and the majestic sunsets that signal the end of each day. It was in this setting of close-knit ties and shared dreams that Cowboy’s- just for fun page came to life. Amidst this backdrop of shared heritage and collective dreams, Cowboy’s-just for fun page sprang to life on Facebook. A space crafted for his quotes, laughter, and the simple joys of Leeton life. It’s a corner of the internet that echoes Cowboy’s journey and the essence of a town that’s more than a place—it’s a feeling, a shared experience, a home. of a man who had made Leeton his hometown and who seemed to speak directly to their hearts through his actions. They observed, some with smiles, others with nods of respect, but all with a sense of pride for the town they loved. The story of Leeton, Missouri, is not just one of dates and facts. It’s a story of a community that thrives on connection, memories, and the enduring spirit of its people. And thanks to Cowboy, it’s a story that will be lived for generations to come, a timeless tribute to a place called home. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just in the pages of history, but in the footsteps of a cowboy, in the stories passed down from one generation to the next, and in the hearts of those who know it’s not just where they live—it’s who they are.

In the heart of Missouri, where the land tells tales of time and toil, lies the town of Leeton. This place, founded in 1895 and named for J. J. Lee, is more than coordinates on a map; it’s a community where stories are woven into the very fabric of daily life. As dawn breaks, the sun casts a warm glow over Leeton’s historic buildings and the Rock Island Spur trailhead of the Katy Trail. The town may be small, with just over 500 souls, but its spirit is as boundless as the skies above, anchored in the values of hard work, resilience, and the warmth of neighborly love. Among the town’s cherished residents is a figure simply known as “Cowboy.” A man of action, his life is a testament to the Western ethos of helping others and living a life of integrity. Cowboy’s connection to Leeton runs deep; it’s not merely where he resides—it’s the community he actively shapes with his presence. Cowboy’s story is interwoven with Leeton’s rich history, the joyous sounds of children at play, the steadfastness of farmers in the fields, and the majestic sunsets that signal the end of each day. It was in this setting of close-knit ties and shared dreams that Cowboy’s-just for fun page sprang to life on Facebook. A space crafted for his quotes, laughter, and the simple joys of life. It’s a corner of the internet that echoes Cowboy’s journey and the essence of a town that’s more than a place—it’s a feeling, a shared experience, a home. of a man who had made Leeton his hometown and who seemed to speak directly to their hearts through his actions. They observed, some with smiles, others with nods of respect, but all with a sense of pride for the town they loved. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just in the pages of history, but in the footsteps of a cowboy, in the stories passed down from one generation to the next, and in the hearts of those who know it’s not just where they live—it’s who they are.

In the heart of Missouri, where the land tells tales of time and toil, lies the town of Leeton. This place, founded in 1895 and named for J. J. Lee, is more than coordinates on a map; it’s a community where stories are woven into the very fabric of daily life. As dawn breaks, the sun casts a warm glow over Leeton’s historic buildings and the Rock Island Spur trailhead of the Katy Trail. The town may be small, with just over 500 souls, but its spirit is as boundless as the skies above, anchored in the values of hard work, resilience, and the warmth of neighborly love. Among the town’s cherished residents is a figure simply known as “Cowboy.” A man of action, his life is a testament to the Western ethos of helping others and living a life of integrity. Cowboy’s connection to Leeton runs deep; it’s not merely where he resides—it’s the community he actively shapes with his presence. Cowboy’s story is interwoven with Leeton’s rich history, the joyous sounds of children at play, the steadfastness of farmers in the fields, and the majestic sunsets that signal the end of each day. It was in this setting of close-knit ties and shared dreams that Cowboy’s-just for fun page sprang to life on Facebook. A space crafted for his quotes, laughter, and the simple joys of life. It’s a corner of the internet that echoes Cowboy’s journey and the essence of a town that’s more than a place—it’s a feeling, a shared experience, a home. of a man who had made Leeton his hometown and who seemed to speak directly to their hearts through his actions. They observed, some with smiles, others with nods of respect, but all with a sense of pride for the town they loved. The story of Leeton, Missouri, is not just one of dates and facts. It’s a story of a community that thrives on connection, memories, and the enduring spirit of its people. And thanks to Cowboy, it’s a story that will be lived for generations to come, a timeless tribute to a place called home. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just in the pages of history, but in the footsteps of a cowboy, in the stories passed down from one generation to the next, and in the hearts of those who know it’s not just where they live—it’s who they are.

In the heart of Missouri, where the land tells tales of time and toil, lies the town of Leeton. This place, founded in 1895 and named for J. J. Lee, is more than coordinates on a map; it’s a community where stories are woven into the very fabric of daily life. As dawn breaks, the sun casts a warm glow over Leeton’s historic buildings and the Rock Island Spur trailhead of the Katy Trail. The town may be small, with just over 500 souls, but its spirit is as boundless as the skies above, anchored in the values of hard work, resilience, and the warmth of neighborly love. Among the town’s cherished residents is a figure simply known as “Cowboy.” A man of action, his life is a testament to the Western ethos of helping others and living a life of integrity. Cowboy’s connection to Leeton runs deep; it’s not merely where he resides—it’s the community he actively shapes with his presence. Cowboy’s story is interwoven with Leeton’s rich history, the joyous sounds of children at play, the steadfastness of farmers in the fields, and the majestic sunsets that signal the end of each day. It was in this setting of close-knit ties and shared dreams that Cowboy’s- just for fun page came to life. The story of Leeton, Missouri, is not just one of dates and facts. It’s a story of a community that thrives on connection, memories, and the enduring spirit of its people. And thanks to Cowboy, it’s a story that will be lived for generations to come, a timeless tribute to a place called home. Amidst this backdrop of shared heritage and collective dreams, Cowboy’s-just for fun page sprang to life on Facebook. A space crafted for his quotes, laughter, and the simple joys of Leeton life. It’s a corner of the internet that echoes Cowboy’s journey and the essence of a town that’s more than a place—it’s a feeling, a shared experience, a home. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just As Cowboy went about his day, the people of Leeton watched, drawn by the familiar sight of a man who had made Leeton his hometown and who seemed to speak directly to their hearts through his actions. They observed, some with smiles, others with nods of respect, but all with a sense of pride for the town they loved. The story of Leeton, Missouri, is not just one of dates and facts. It’s a story of a community that thrives on connection, memories, and the enduring spirit of its people. And thanks to Cowboy, it’s a story that will be lived for generations to come, a timeless tribute to a place called home. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just in the pages of history, but in the footsteps of a cowboy, in the stories passed down from one generation to the next, and in the hearts of those who know it’s not just where they live—it’s who they are.

In the heart of Missouri, where the land tells tales of time and toil, lies the town of Leeton. This place, founded in 1895 and named for J. J. Lee, is more than coordinates on a map; it’s a community where stories are woven into the very fabric of daily life. As dawn breaks, the sun casts a warm glow over Leeton’s historic buildings and the Rock Island Spur trailhead of the Katy Trail. The town may be small, with just over 500 souls, but its spirit is as boundless as the skies above, anchored in the values of hard work, resilience, and the warmth of neighborly love. Among the town’s cherished residents is a figure simply known as “Cowboy.” A man of action, his life is a testament to the Western ethos of helping others and living a life of integrity. Cowboy’s connection to Leeton runs deep; it’s not merely where he resides—it’s the community he actively shapes with his presence. Cowboy’s story is interwoven with Leeton’s rich history, the joyous sounds of children at play, the steadfastness of farmers in the fields, and the majestic sunsets that signal the end of each day. It was in this setting of close-knit ties and shared dreams that Cowboy’s- just for fun page came to life. Amidst this backdrop of shared heritage and collective dreams, Cowboy’s-just for fun page sprang to life on Facebook. A space crafted for his quotes, laughter, and the simple joys of Leeton life. It’s a corner of the internet that echoes Cowboy’s journey and the essence of a town that’s more than a place—it’s a feeling, a shared experience, a home. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just As Cowboy went about his day, the people of Leeton watched, drawn by the familiar sight of a man who had made Leeton his hometown and who seemed to speak directly to their hearts through his actions. They observed, some with smiles, others with nods of respect, but all with a sense of pride for the town they loved. The story of Leeton, Missouri, is not just one of dates and facts. It’s a story of a community that thrives on connection, memories, and the enduring spirit of its people. And thanks to Cowboy, it’s a story that will be lived for generations to come, a timeless tribute to a place called home. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just in the pages of history, but in the footsteps of a cowboy, in the stories passed down from one generation to the next, and in the hearts of those who know it’s not just where they live—it’s who they are.

In the heart of Missouri, where the land tells tales of time and toil, lies the town of Leeton. This place, founded in 1895 and named for J. J. Lee, is more than coordinates on a map; it’s a community where stories are woven into the very fabric of daily life. As dawn breaks, the sun casts a warm glow over Leeton’s historic buildings and the Rock Island Spur trailhead of the Katy Trail. The town may be small, with just over 500 souls, but its spirit is as boundless as the skies above, anchored in the values of hard work, resilience, and the warmth of neighborly love. Among the town’s cherished residents is a figure simply known as “Cowboy.” A man of action, his life is a testament to the Western ethos of helping others and living a life of integrity. Cowboy’s connection to Leeton runs deep; it’s not merely where he resides—it’s the community he actively shapes with his presence. Cowboy’s story is interwoven with Leeton’s rich history, the joyous sounds of children at play, the steadfastness of farmers in the fields, and the majestic sunsets that signal the end of each day. It was in this setting of close-knit ties and shared dreams that Cowboy’s- just for fun page came to life. The story of Leeton, Missouri, is not just one of dates and facts. It’s a story of a community that thrives on connection, memories, and the enduring spirit of its people. And thanks to Cowboy, it’s a story that will be lived for generations to come, a timeless tribute to a place called home. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just As Cowboy went about his day, the people of Leeton watched, drawn by the familiar sight of a man who had made Leeton his hometown and who seemed to speak directly to their hearts through his actions. They observed, some with smiles, others with nods of respect, but all with a sense of pride for the town they loved. The story of Leeton, Missouri, is not just one of dates and facts. It’s a story of a community that thrives on connection, memories, and the enduring spirit of its people. And thanks to Cowboy, it’s a story that will be lived for generations to come, a timeless tribute to a place called home. And so, the legacy of Leeton lives on, not just in the pages of history, but in the footsteps of a cowboy, in the stories passed down from one generation to the next, and in the hearts of those who know it’s not just where they live—it’s who they are.

Persian (Farsi) is spoken as a first tongue by about 60 per cent of Iranians and is the official language of the Islamic Republic. However, Kurds, Balochis, Turkmen, Azerbaijanis (Azeris) and Armenians all use their own languages, as do a host of smaller groups such as the Arabs, Circassians and the semi-nomadic Lur tribes. There are even a few villages in which Georgian is spoken. The tiny community of Jews (around 8,000) can be traced all the way back to the Babylonian Exile in the sixth century BCE.

During this period, ‘Brits’ were still the main source of labour, but gradually the demographic of the country began to change as world events drove increasing numbers of Europeans to Australia, opening the floodgates and gradually relaxing the White Australia policy. Italians, Germans and Greeks arrived to join the communities established in the late 1900s. Following on were many Hungarians who had escaped after the 1956 revolution, then Czechs after the Soviet occupation in 1968. Gradually people from South America and the Middle East came, many fleeing persecution. In the 1970s thousands of ‘boat people’ from Vietnam were allowed in, and in the 1990s refugees from the Yugoslav Wars. This resulted in a pronounced cultural shift from what was essentially a British, or perhaps Anglo-Celtic, society to a multicultural country. It was a remarkably rapid conversion into what we see now in modern Australia – a nation of people whose heritage can be traced back to 190 countries. In the 2016 census the proportion of the total population born abroad was 26 per cent, but where they come from shows the changes in policy, attitudes and global economics since the start of the twentieth century.

Although no map can fix the way, there are signposts to point Christians in the right direction, toward the wisdom of God, toward love, toward home. Things like hospitality, contemplation, healing, testimony, and justice. Christians call these signposts “practices,” the activities drawn from our tradition that we do together in community. Practices form Christians in faith as they deepen their trust in God’s love and strengthen their love for the world.

this new map, the hunting party would set out on a new expedition, which, surprisingly, would lead to an abundant capture of game. The map was nothing but randomly created lines on a dried animal skin—why did it lead the hunters to success? The answer is that it forced them to look in places they had unknowingly left unexplored. It got them out of their rut. This is just like the power of community when it comes to your creating. Your circle can give you perspectives and insights that are akin to the lines on a crumpled animal hide, pushing you to look in places you may otherwise miss.

In each of the magazines, maps, event listings, and advertisements imagine the convergence of sexual minorities in public space. In essence, the magazines articulate urban centers as a collection of opportunities for personal agency and community belonging for their readers.

the first Grand Challenge, held in 2004, was a flop. The best that any vehicle could manage was just 7.5 miles on the 142-mile course in the rugged desert on the California-Nevada border. Yet this failure was also a success. “The first competition created a community of innovators, engineers, students, programmers, off-road racers, backyard mechanics, inventors, and dreamers,” said a DARPA official. “The fresh thinking they brought was the spark.

in 2004, the National Intelligence Council, a research organization in the U.S. intelligence community, had published a report titled Mapping the Global Future, which presented scenarios for the year 2020. One of the scenarios imagined was a pandemic in 2020. It was eerily prophetic, even as to the year: It is only a matter of time before a new pandemic appears, such as the 1918–1919 influenza virus that killed an estimated twenty million worldwide. Such a pandemic in megacities of the developing world . . . would be devastating and could spread rapidly throughout the world.

If you will take a map of West Virginia , you will see that it is much like the map of any other State. Deep ridges of hills cut across its eastern and southwestern por tions, but aside from these there is little to distinguish it from other maps; the same winding lines indicate rivers, the same dots show where its towns are, the same network of railways connects these dots. One can easily imagine the life that goes on in these towns as being the same that goes on in small towns everywhere. He can imagine people owning their own homes, following a variety of occupations, attending to their own little affairs, and sharing in the town's common activities. He can imagine them acting like the independent citizens of other communities. But he will be mistaken . Nothing of the sort goes on there. In the coal mining fields of West Virginia, comprising parts or all of thirty -six counties, the dots on the map do not stand for towns in the ordinary sense. They do not indicate places where people lead an interrelated, many-sided, and mutually dependent existence. They stand for clusters of houses around a coal mine. They indicate points at which seams of coal have been opened , tipples erected, and coal has been brought forth as fuel. True, people live here, but they live here to work . The communities exist for the coal mines . They are the adjuncts and necessary conveniences of an industry.

Metaphor is a kind of systems analysis, a different and equally valid approach to understanding complexity, as the mathematical modeling my father does. Metaphor constantly theorizes relationship and meaning. Artists do this work out of their own broad or narrow views, have their own parameters for sampling the data, their own biases about what goes with what, as do scientists. When I decide there is a poetic link between the behaviors of resurrection fern and historical memory, I am responding to a deep resonance inside of me, but that resonance is trained by a lifetime of studying the nature of resonances, of mapping the interconnected webs of human and wild communities. I have an informed feel for it.

High-context cultures tend to have a long shared history. Usually they are relationship-oriented societies where networks of connections are passed on from generation to generation, generating more shared context among community members. Japan is an island society with a homogeneous population and thousands of years of shared history, during a significant portion of which Japan was closed off from the rest of the world. Over these thousands of years, people became particularly skilled at picking up each other’s messages—reading the air, as Takaki said. By contrast, the United States, a country with a mere few hundred years of shared history, has been shaped by enormous inflows of immigrants from various countries around the world, all with different histories, different languages, and different backgrounds. Because they had little shared context, Americans learned quickly that if they wanted to pass a message, they had to make it as explicit and clear as possible, with little room for ambiguity and misunderstanding.

We will be taking a long sabbatical from Cambridge, both of us. Wendell does not believe he will return, and why would he? The scholarly life was for him merely the means to an end, the end being finding a way back to his home. But I know that I will, if only from time to time. Perhaps a semester here, a semester there. A tenured scholar has a great deal of freedom, after all, and once the article I have written on my journey into the Silva Lupi (much redacted and condensed, of course) appears in next month's issue of Modern Dryadology, Cambridge will be all the more eager to retain me. Rose, who acted as co-author, and actually deigned to allow my name to appear first in the publication, is certain it will send the scholarly community into a tizzy. And also--- I will have my mapbook to publish.

After gathering the behavioral data and activities of 700,000 supporters of Stop the Steal, Facebook mapped out the connections among them and began dividing them into ringleaders (those who created content and strategy), amplifiers (prominent accounts that spread those messages), bridgers (activists with a foot in multiple communities, such as anti-vax and QAnon), and finally “susceptible users” (those whose social circles seemed to be “gateways” to radicalism).

Did it matter—she thought, looking at the map—which part of the corpse had been consumed by which type of maggot, by those who gorged themselves or by those who gave the food to other maggots? So long as living flesh was prey to be devoured, did it matter whose stomachs it had gone to fill? There was no way to tell which devastation had been accomplished by the humanitarians and which by undisguised gangsters. There was no way to tell which acts of plunder had been prompted by the charity-lust of the Lawsons and which by the gluttony of Cuffy Meigs—no way to tell which communities had been immolated to feed another community one week closer to starvation and which to provide yachts for the pull-peddlers. Did it matter? Both were alike in fact as they were alike in spirit, both were in need and need was regarded as sole title to property, both were acting in strictest accordance with the same code of morality. Both held the immolation of men as proper and both were achieving it. There wasn’t even any way to tell who were the cannibals and who the victims—the communities that accepted as their rightful due the confiscated clothing or fuel of a town to the east of them, found, next week, their granaries confiscated to feed a town to the west—men had achieved the ideal of the centuries, they were practicing it in unobstructed perfection, they were serving need as their highest ruler, need as first claim upon them, need as their standard of value, as the coin of their realm, as more sacred than right and life. Men had been pushed into a pit where, shouting that man is his brother’s keeper, each was devouring his neighbor and was being devoured by his neighbor’s brother, each was proclaiming the righteousness of the unearned and wondering who was stripping the skin off his back, each was devouring himself, while screaming in terror that some unknowable evil was destroying the earth.

Clover and Jotter’s names are still remembered in the botany and river running communities. A hedgehog cactus with pink flowers and dense spines that grows in New Mexico is named Clover’s cactus (Sclerocactus cloverae); it’s now under consideration for endangered species protection. River rafters in Cataract Canyon, rediscovering places once buried beneath Lake Powell and now revealed by drought, informally call two side canyons Clover Canyon and Jotter Canyon, in a stretch of river known as Botany Aisle. Scientists raft the Grand Canyon every year, carrying a plant guide shaped in part by Clover and Jotter’s findings. Their story matters. It adds to the unfolding record of how life, human and nonhuman, finds ways to flourish even in the most unlikely of circumstances. Like others before them, Elzada Clover and Lois Jotter valued their curiosity about the world more than their presumed place within it. They go ahead and, like stars reflected on the river, show the way.

The authority of Scripture works itself out in a human life not like a "worldview" mapping out exhaustive responses to the controversies in which one is already engaged, but first by submerging a life in a different storyline altogether. A renewed experience of biblical authority can illuminate what's at the heart of every claim to authority in any community: a storyline that makes sense of the meaning of one's world and one's place in it.

Salt symbolizes several related themes in the book, including grief and healing from it, not only in terms of the sea’s salt but also the way that salt occurs as an imperfection in precious stones. For me, this symbolizes life’s traumas that, on the one hand, can be “polished” from us (healed) by the love of family, community, belonging—but also, on the other hand, the losses and pains of life that we have no choice but to endure. In its own way, grief and healing make us the precious stones that we are.

This is because, if China could establish hegemony over Asia, it could then set up a commercial and trading bloc anchored in the world's largest market that would privilege its own and subordinates' economies while disfavoring America's. The resulting drain on American businesses, large and small, would be most keenly felt by the workers, families, and communities who rely on those businesses for jobs, goods, services, and the other benefits that come with a vibrant economy. The steady erosion of America's economic power would ultimately weaken the nation's social vitality and stability. -- This kind of disfavoring is hardly a theoretical concern; China today appears to be seeking to shape the economic map in just this way. Nor is it especially unusual; this sort of policy has a powerful appeal and internal logic and is a regular feature of how aspiring and established hegemons behave. Essentially every aspiring hegemon in history has sought or planned to establish an economic system favoring itself, in order to enrich itself, sustain its predominance, and exclude or disfavor potential competitors.

Astrology Course 101: The Ultimate Guide for Beginners to Professional Level Astrology Course - You should approach astrology with an open mind and a critical viewpoint if you're interested in knowing more about it. Here are some tips to get you started learning about astrology: Know Its Nature: A belief system that has not been proven by science is astrology. The scientific community discredits it as a pseudoscience because none of its tenets are supported by empirical data. Consider astrology as a sort of entertainment or personal belief rather than as a science. Basic Knowledge: Learn the basic principles of astrology, such as the meanings of the zodiac signs, natal charts, planets, aspects, and houses, before moving on. There are numerous publications, websites, and educational programmes that can offer a solid foundation. Analyze Your Natal Chart: Your birth date, time, and location can be used to make your own natal chart. You may create your chart for free with the aid of several online tools and programmes. A map of the celestial bodies' positions at the moment of your birth is called your natal chart. Analyze Your Natal Chart: Spend some time studying your natal chart once you have one. Find out what each house's planets mean and how they interact with one another. Your personality, weaknesses, and prospective life path will all be revealed by this. Observe Your Sun, Moon, and Rising Signs by Reading This: Your Sunrise (or Ascendant) sign affects your outward behavior, while your Moon sign and Sun sign both reflect your emotional nature. A more complete understanding of these signs might give you a better understanding of your astrological profile. Consult with Expert Astrologers: Consider speaking with a qualified astrologer if you want a more thorough examination of your chart or if you have specific queries. Based on your chart, they can provide unique insights and interpretations. Use astrology to reflect on yourself: Astrology is a useful tool for introspection and personal development. Examine how your own experiences and emotions align with the astrological insights. Use it to gain a deeper understanding of who you are and the course of your life. Keep in Mind That Symbolism: Numerous people have called astrology a symbolic language. Astrologers interpret the locations and aspects of celestial bodies as symbols in their own unique ways. It does not accurately describe how the cosmos affects your life. Learn to Think Critically: Keep a critical mindset while you research astrology. Recognise that connections drawn by astrology lack scientific support and that correlation does not imply causation. Consider several points of view and be willing to be skeptical. Respect for Various Beliefs: Regarding astrology, people hold a variety of beliefs and practices. Even if they differ from your own, respect other people's decisions and ideas. For some people, astrology holds significant personal value. Science and balance: Astrology is not a replacement for critical thinking or decision-making based on evidence. Use more trustworthy information and logic while making crucial life decisions. In Conclusion - Astrology has the potential to be a fascinating and contemplative activity that provides insights into personality and self-awareness. But it's crucial to approach it from a well-informed and impartial standpoint, mindful of its limitations and cognizant that it is largely a belief system rather than a science. For More Details : Click Here

With the web uncovered, the intricacies of the belowground alliance still remained a mystery to me, until I started my doctoral research in 1992. Paper birches, with their lush leaves and gossamer bark, seemed to be feeding the soil and helping their coniferous neighbors. But how? In pulling back the forest floor using microscopic and genetic tools, I discovered that the vast belowground mycelial network was a bustling community of mycorrhizal fungal species. These fungi are mutualistic. They connect the trees with the soil in a market exchange of carbon and nutrients and link the roots of paper birches and Douglas firs in a busy, cooperative Internet. When the interwoven birches and firs were spiked with stable and radioactive isotopes, I could see, using mass spectrometers and scintillation counters, carbon being transmitted back and forth between the trees, like neurotransmitters firing in our own neural networks. The trees were communicating through the web! I was staggered to discover that Douglas firs were receiving more photosynthetic carbon from paper birches than they were transmitting, especially when the firs were in the shade of their leafy neighbors. This helped explain the synergy of the pair’s relationship. The birches, it turns out, were spurring the growth of the firs, like carers in human social networks. Looking further, we discovered that the exchange between the two tree species was dynamic: each took different turns as “mother,” depending on the season. And so, they forged their duality into a oneness, making a forest. This discovery was published by Nature in 1997 and called the “wood wide web.” The research has continued unabated ever since, undertaken by students, postdoctoral researchers, and other scientists, with a myriad of discoveries about belowground communication among trees. We have used new scientific tools, as they are invented, along with our curiosity and dreams, to peer into the dark world of the soil and illuminate the social network of trees. The wood wide web has been mapped, traced, monitored, and coaxed to reveal the beautiful structures and finely adapted languages of the forest network. We have learned that mother trees recognize and talk with their kin, shaping future generations. In addition, injured trees pass their legacies on to their neighbors, affecting gene regulation, defense chemistry, and resilience in the forest community. These discoveries have transformed our understanding of trees from competitive crusaders of the self to members of a connected, relating, communicating system. Ours is not the only lab making these discoveries—there is a burst of careful scientific research occurring worldwide that is uncovering all manner of ways that trees communicate with each other above and below ground.

A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which humanity is always heading,” wrote Oscar Wilde

As a result, the distribution maps for plant species don't look the same from interglacial to interglacial. Each climate change creates a new map, with new communities of species living together. Whole suites of species do not pick up en masse and decorously tiptoe south, making sure to keep together. It is rather mad scramble - albeit in geological time. Some of today's ecosystems have not fully bounced back from the last glaciation. One analysis suggested that thirty-six of fifty-five European tree species studied had still not spread out to the edges of their possible ranges. Beech trees are notoriously poky. In North-America they are still moving west across Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

This is what gentrifiers and gentrification boosters often fail to grasp about gentrification: it's not that most poor people or people of color hate the idea of anyone moving to the city, but that gentrification almost always takes place on top of someone else's loss. Gentrifiers see cities through fresh eyes, unencumbered by mental maps that might suggest something more nefarious than revitalization had happened before their arrival. Gentrifiers might even have noble intent - to become a part of a community, to help better a community, to fight for political change. Or they might just be there fore the cheaper rent. Either way, it is rare to see gentrifiers take a full reckoning of history and recognize that their presence is often predicated upon the lessened quality of life of someone else, the displacement of someone else, or, in the case of New Orleans, the death of someone else.

Indigenous peoples' DNA is seen as a resource for use in medical, behavioral, anthropological, and genetic variation studies. Kanaka Maoli DNA has been sought for research at UH. For example, Dr. Charles Boyd, who was a researcher at UH's Pacific Biomedical Research Center, drafted a proposal for a Hawaiian Genome Project seeking $5–10 million to produce an annotated map of the entire genetic makeup of the Hawaiian people. Boyd stated, “There are many communities now with their own unique genetic history imprinted into their genomes and these include Asians, Europeans and the peoples of Oceania. The Hawaiian genome represents an important example of one of these communities of the Oceania people.”12 Boyd was hoping to target residents of the Hawaiian Homestead communities because they are seen as being the most purebred native Hawaiians. He hoped to find a genetic basis for the high rate of obesity, diabetes, renal disease, and hypertension in Kanaka Maoli.13 This type of research essentializes the role of genes, while devaluing key environmental and lifestyle factors, including the role dispossession of land has had in traditional diet and activities.