viii
patterns – regenerative and biophilic – are more important than ever, and we need an even more ambitious system of new patterns, commensurate with the extraordinary challenges we face. The need to
move beyond modest adjustments and small design tinkering is undeniable, and Roös’s new patterns
for regenerative- adaptive design are essential. They build on the new-found power of patterns but
extend and expand their scope and ambition to fit the dire circumstances we are facing today. As this
book shows, everything we build and design must be deeply biophilic; it must work in significant
ways to repair and restore these lost connections, at the same time that species, landscapes and ecosystems are restored and regenerated.
What is evident here is a growing sense that our patterns of living and building must acknowledge
the deep interconnectedness of our world. Modern cities source much of their food, materials, water
and energy from distant hinterlands with little concern for, or transparency about, the long- term
impacts, while externalising the waste and pollutants generated there. We don’t care where the outputs
go, as long as they go away. The good news is there is a growing movement which understands that we
must make room for nature where we live and work and that we need and want nature around us – an
especially important (finally) recognition that being truly healthy, happy, and human requires close
contact with nature. Many of the patterns described in this book aim directly at bringing about these
closer urban- nature connections. And there is also a growing sense that designing just to be a little less
damaging or consumptive of resources and energy can’t be enough – we need projects, neighbourhoods, and cities that are regenerative and adaptive, and that help to restore and repair a planet that is
already heavily damaged.
We will want to take Roös’s regenerative-adaptive patterns and find ways to amplify and accelerate
their application. Part of this task will require us to re-think the design fields and what we are teaching
in schools of architecture and design. How can the owners, occupants, users of buildings and spaces
in our cities care about their regenerative qualities when architects and designers who work to create
them don’t have the passion, commitment and tools to aspire to higher goals themselves? I have been
discouraged to see what we teach, or more importantly what we don’t teach, in schools of architecture. There is not much about sharing space with other life, about building and living modestly, about
the need to design spaces and places that restore and repair rather than destroy and deplete.
As we tell this story of profound interconnectedness we will need better and more effective methods of storytelling in an era of text messaging and short attention spans. The mystery and magic of
nature will need to be part of the answer. I recently participated in a medicine walk in the forests of
High Park in downtown Toronto that offers some hope. Led by Irish-Canadian forest ecologist and
medical botanist Diana Beresford-Kroeger, it was a vivid and visceral demonstration of this principle
of interconnection, but delivered with fun, beauty, and wonder. She explained how essential trees and
forests were to human health and the source of a majority of our drugs. She spoke of even deeper connections, telling the group of rapt fellow walkers how terrestrial trees and forests sustained marine
ecosystems, fallen leaves providing iron to support microorganisms at the bottom of the marine
food chain.
Beresford-Kroeger’s work (and she is not alone) reflects the critical power of awe and importance
of love. At several points during the walk that day she lovingly embraced the trees she was discussing.
The regenerative design responses we need and that are advocated in this book will require a merging
of a deep understanding of interconnection with an even deeper sense of love and kinship with all
other forms of life.
An appreciation for the value of this kind of ancient knowledge is gaining ground, which is encouraging and reflected strongly in Roös’s work here. My brief experience in Oregon also reminds me of
the essential role that native cultures can play in helping all of us renew our relationships to nature.
They have, after all, managed to live wisely and sustainably for millennia and offer hopeful direction
out of the climate and ecological disaster Western societies and economies have precipitated in.
I am especially excited to see in this book an attempt to learn from Indigenous cultures. Australian
Aboriginals have lived sustainably on the land for more than 60,000 years, an astounding length of
New Patterns for a Healthy Planet
patterns – regenerative and biophilic – are more important than ever, and we need an even more ambitious system of new patterns, commensurate with the extraordinary challenges we face. The need to
move beyond modest adjustments and small design tinkering is undeniable, and Roös’s new patterns
for regenerative- adaptive design are essential. They build on the new-found power of patterns but
extend and expand their scope and ambition to fit the dire circumstances we are facing today. As this
book shows, everything we build and design must be deeply biophilic; it must work in significant
ways to repair and restore these lost connections, at the same time that species, landscapes and ecosystems are restored and regenerated.
What is evident here is a growing sense that our patterns of living and building must acknowledge
the deep interconnectedness of our world. Modern cities source much of their food, materials, water
and energy from distant hinterlands with little concern for, or transparency about, the long- term
impacts, while externalising the waste and pollutants generated there. We don’t care where the outputs
go, as long as they go away. The good news is there is a growing movement which understands that we
must make room for nature where we live and work and that we need and want nature around us – an
especially important (finally) recognition that being truly healthy, happy, and human requires close
contact with nature. Many of the patterns described in this book aim directly at bringing about these
closer urban- nature connections. And there is also a growing sense that designing just to be a little less
damaging or consumptive of resources and energy can’t be enough – we need projects, neighbourhoods, and cities that are regenerative and adaptive, and that help to restore and repair a planet that is
already heavily damaged.
We will want to take Roös’s regenerative-adaptive patterns and find ways to amplify and accelerate
their application. Part of this task will require us to re-think the design fields and what we are teaching
in schools of architecture and design. How can the owners, occupants, users of buildings and spaces
in our cities care about their regenerative qualities when architects and designers who work to create
them don’t have the passion, commitment and tools to aspire to higher goals themselves? I have been
discouraged to see what we teach, or more importantly what we don’t teach, in schools of architecture. There is not much about sharing space with other life, about building and living modestly, about
the need to design spaces and places that restore and repair rather than destroy and deplete.
As we tell this story of profound interconnectedness we will need better and more effective methods of storytelling in an era of text messaging and short attention spans. The mystery and magic of
nature will need to be part of the answer. I recently participated in a medicine walk in the forests of
High Park in downtown Toronto that offers some hope. Led by Irish-Canadian forest ecologist and
medical botanist Diana Beresford-Kroeger, it was a vivid and visceral demonstration of this principle
of interconnection, but delivered with fun, beauty, and wonder. She explained how essential trees and
forests were to human health and the source of a majority of our drugs. She spoke of even deeper connections, telling the group of rapt fellow walkers how terrestrial trees and forests sustained marine
ecosystems, fallen leaves providing iron to support microorganisms at the bottom of the marine
food chain.
Beresford-Kroeger’s work (and she is not alone) reflects the critical power of awe and importance
of love. At several points during the walk that day she lovingly embraced the trees she was discussing.
The regenerative design responses we need and that are advocated in this book will require a merging
of a deep understanding of interconnection with an even deeper sense of love and kinship with all
other forms of life.
An appreciation for the value of this kind of ancient knowledge is gaining ground, which is encouraging and reflected strongly in Roös’s work here. My brief experience in Oregon also reminds me of
the essential role that native cultures can play in helping all of us renew our relationships to nature.
They have, after all, managed to live wisely and sustainably for millennia and offer hopeful direction
out of the climate and ecological disaster Western societies and economies have precipitated in.
I am especially excited to see in this book an attempt to learn from Indigenous cultures. Australian
Aboriginals have lived sustainably on the land for more than 60,000 years, an astounding length of
New Patterns for a Healthy Planet