Why settle for inconsequential incrementalism?
My nose tells me we can do better
My elderly mother was rushed into hospital last week, a minor emergency caused by her diabetes. I spent the night sleeping alongside her on a chair in Accident & Emergency, followed by many trips to the hospital at odd hours once she'd made it onto a ward.
She was confused; I was wrung out, my family were picking up the pieces; I'm sure we've all been there when our fragile normality suddenly implodes. Harsh hospital environments don't do anything to take the edge off, or so I thought.
In a late-night fug on one of my early visits, as I walked outside the building trying to find the right entrance, I suddenly became aware of a fresher, sweeter note to the air. There amid the concrete turmoil, I happened across an island of incredible calm and biodiversity.
Alerted by my nose, not my eyes, I worked around the edge of this strange outcrop of trees, bushes and berries. I couldn't believe it; what was this place? I wouldn't have been surprised to have hallucinated it. I snapped a few grainy photos of waving leaves and branches and resolved to investigate further in daylight.
Returning the following day, I discovered the incredible Maggie's Cancer Centre in all its verdant glory. I've since learnt it was the work of the wonderful Heatherwick Design Studio.
When I first came across Amsterdam's application of Doughnut Economics to city development, I was staggered by the ambition of one of the questions asked: "How can the city be as generous to nature as the surrounding countryside?"
At first, ruled by my rational brain, I scoffed at the idea. Of course cities can't replicate the benefits of natural ecosystems; what a ridiculous notion.
But over time, I've come to realise the marvellous ambition wrapped up in that Big Hairy Audacious Goal. Why should we settle for inconsequential incrementalism? Why shouldn't we recognise each act, each intervention, as having the potential to be transformational? If we don't, who will?
Here was that outlandish ambition writ large in my olfactory system (please don't ask me to say this word out loud, it has always defeated me) right here in my own city. As we look to the future, it's a reminder that we need not be content with being just a little bit better; we can vault way beyond better if we have the ambition.
If merely walking past the centre managed to lift my spirits one dark night, I can only imagine the difference that such a setting makes for cancer patients.