Resilience and how to slow down

It is getting colder outside. The colours of the forest are changing, forming a beautiful gradient from deep and light green through yellow, bright and dark orange to red, purple, brown. It’s a beautiful autumn scene. As I walk, I think about how incredibly predictable nature is most of the time, at least from the subjective lens of my human experience. I think a lot about how nature might evolve in the future, and what the future of humanity might look like.

Most natural processes, as well as the emergence of life, have taken millennia to develop and stabilise, continuing their slow evolution over time. There are well-established water and carbon cycles, seasonal variations, and gradual transitions from hot to cold and back again, day turning into night and back. This cyclical predictability has helped humans and other living organisms adapt and live in coherence with their environment.

And yet, there are outliers, events that shake this steadiness and predictability. They include extreme storms, which occur at irregular intervals and devastate natural landscapes as well as human infrastructure. Earthquakes, solar activity and impacts from celestial objects, asteroids or comets (though extremely rare), with dramatic consequences in Earth’s history, such as the mass extinction that wiped out the dinosaurs.

But unlike these outliers, our modern way of living is causing disruptions that are not part of nature’s cycle. Many of our current challenges arise from humanity’s accelerated environmental impact and the ecological disconnection created by rapid industrial, technological and societal change. Our attempts to control and alter the natural world, often desynchronised and incoherent with Earth's rhythms are made without full awareness of their long-term consequences on the ecosystem. And we are completely oblivious to how these changes might ripple into the future. Nature is our greatest teacher in resilience. Every process unfolds with purpose, in its own time. Entropy though seemingly chaotic remains measurable, even partly predictable. It guides matter and energy toward equilibrium. A quiet drift toward balance. There is no haste in this movement, only steady transitions and delicate adjustments that sustain life over time. The way temperature shifts influence microorganisms, animals, and vegetation determines which species emerge and thrive under specific conditions. As those conditions change, new stages arise slowly, steadily, and in tune with the larger rhythm. In nature, everything is connected; there seems to be a universal intelligence in the way things flow.

There is the concept of a keystone species: "a species that has a large impact on its ecosystem relative to its abundance. Even if it isn’t the most numerous, its presence or absence critically shapes the structure, diversity, and functioning of the ecosystem." I often wonder why humans are the only species on Earth that seem disconnected from these well-established natural systems. We are, in a sense modifiers, a non-keystone species; our presence is not essential to the functioning of any existing natural ecosystem. Actually, through our use and reshaping of the land, we’ve contributed to the quiet loss of countless plant and animal species. If we were to disappear, the planet would most likely continue its process of balancing and recovering from the persistent human influence. We are probably the most prominent outlier in nature's systems. Here is why:

Our urban settlements are typically developed in areas with abundant natural resources. Once those resources are depleted, these areas are abandoned, a pattern repeated many times throughout history. As David R. Montgomery notes in Dirt: The Erosion of Civilizations, entire civilisations have collapsed due to the overuse of land and resources.

This is still happening again today. Modern agriculture, while designed to sustain humanity, frequently fails both people and nature. We are losing vast amounts of topsoil (crucial for sustaining life and food production); the widespread use of pesticides, intended to ensure consistent food supply, depletes soil nutrients and disrupts local climate, pollute underground water wells, and diminish air quality. The way we source and move building materials not only strains our efforts to manage carbon emissions but also scars and pollutes the landscapes we depend on. With our current consumption rate, and without discovering new reserves, oil will probably diminish within half a century. We simply do not replenish what we take.

Nowhere is our misunderstanding of resilience clearer than in the way we manage water. The way we manage water in cities, along with existing water infrastructure, undermines the long-established water cycle. Water is the most resilient and life sustaining substance on Earth. We are as well, for the most part, made of water. Yet we continue to deplete it, disregarding its natural rhythms and processes. Urban water systems are among the least intuitive and least sustainable human-made systems. We consume vast amounts of clean water (in fortunate countries) and pollute it through daily use. It is then released as quickly as possible, either directly back into nature or through large, land-intensive treatment plants that rely on chemicals for purification. The same applies to atmospheric water management and infrastructure: rigid systems that efficiently remove water from urban surfaces, but in doing so, also concentrate and carry surface pollutants.

Nature, by contrast, takes a different approach. Rivers meander to slow water flow. Vegetation gradually filters and cleans it, creating conditions for plants, life to thrive and allowing clean water to circulate naturally. Rain filters through the soil, replenishing underground water wells, a quiet cycle of renewal that remains invisible but effective.

So, the faster we re"move" water in our surroundings, the more we destabilise the water quality, quantity and the water cycle. We learn and adapt: From architecture standpoint, contemporary architecture and urban projects aim to challenge traditional approaches and reshape the environments we inhabit. Concepts like sustainability, liveability, green infrastructure, and resilience have gained prominence, a shift away from design focused purely on function or aesthetics. Increasingly, architectural projects consider their broader context, with drawings extending beyond the building itself to include the surrounding landscape and ecological impact. Inclusive design, attentive to both human needs and environmental potential, has become a guiding principle in some practices. This marks a noticeable change from past approaches, where architects often held central control over project decisions. Architecture and engineering professions share enormous responsibility for the condition of our cities, and it is encouraging to see evolving approaches that integrate environmental awareness and holistic design thinking.

The way we design infrastructure and the systems we create to seemingly control our environment and make life easier are clearly harming not only ecosystems but ourselves as well. Resilience in our cities won’t come from control, but from balance, an approach rooted in understanding, shared knowledge, and collaboration across disciplines.

In nature, every element contributes to equilibrium. Change unfolds through patience, the slow noticing of what works, what doesn’t, and the quiet adjustments in between. If we can learn to move at nature’s pace to build, grow, and renew with awareness, technology can serve as an ally rather than a driver.

True resilience isn’t resistance. It is rhythm, cycle, constant adaptation, a capacity to keep evolving. That same rhythm belongs in us too, shaping how we live, design, and care for the environments we inhabit, ensuring that the systems we build support life rather than disrupt it. We are intelligent and remarkable species. We learn fast, we adapt fast. Finally, I hope for a future where we move and live in coherence with nature, when we finally slow down and look around, and remain immensely grateful for being allowed to exist in this world, our home.

Jelena Holl 13.10.2025