“When we go down to the low tide line, we enter a world that is as old as the earth itself - the primeval meeting place of the elements of earth and water, a place of compromise and conflict and eternal change. Only the most hardy and adaptable can survive in a region so mutable, yet the area between the tide lines is crowded with plants and animals. In this difficult world of the shore, life displays its enormous toughness and vitality by occupying almost every conceivable niche.” - Rachel Carson, The Edge of the Sea
This month I am doing an online class with Chelsea Steinauer-Scudder on writing about physical “edge” places in our environment, otherwise known as ecotones. Edge places are boundaries, borders, or transitional areas between two different ecosystems.
I first became intrigued by edges when I read Stanly Plumly’s piece called ‘Field’ in his book, The Marriage in the Trees. He begins, “In ornithology there occurs the phrase, the abrupt edge, which is the edge between two types of vegetation, where the advantages of both are most convenient. The advantage of the edge is that it allows the bird to live in two worlds at once, and the more abrupt the more intense the advantage.”
Plumly says that natural edges can be very gradual, like a marshland, or more abrupt, like a forest’s edge. The edges are where things happen, where things separate and connect. On the edge can be found the greatest diversity, chaos, danger, and opportunity. As Carson says, they are meeting places of compromise, conflict, and change.
For the purpose of this essay, I wanted to explore what we can learn from physical edge places and think about other types of edges, in culture and in the mind. Let’s start with the physical.
Natural Edges or Ecotones
The word “ecotone” is shorthand for ‘ecology’ and ‘tones.‘ Ecology comes from the Greek word ‘oikos’ for household and tones comes from the Greek word ‘tonos’ for tension. So, ecotones are places of tension. They contain some of the characteristics and species of each community, but they often include some species not found in either. These edge places can be valuable places for food foraging, nesting, and mating. (Britannica)
The shoreline is one type of ecotone but there are many others to be found in the places where we live. Let’s take a look at a few examples.
Mangrove Forests - These are amazingly beautiful ecotones that live alongside coastlines. According to the link cited, they are like tropical forests, consisting of trees and shrubs that sit in standing water with exposed roots. These trees have the ability to store up to four times more carbon than other tropical forests. They are important habitats for a myriad of aquatic and terrestrial and bird species and serve as nesting and breeding grounds. They serve as a natural water treatment facility, filtering pollutants and sediment and protecting local waterways. They also can act as a buffer, protecting neighboring communities from storm damage. At the same time, they provide local communities with fish. Other similar types of coastline ecotones are salt marshes, estuaries, and lagoons.
Riparian Zones - are the edges of river, stream, and pond banks, where land meets water. They are also home to diverse animal and plant species and provide flood prevention and soil erosion control. Tall, woody plants that grow alongside rivers filter sunlight and help stabilize water temperature. The vegetation also filters pollutants like sediment, nitrogen, phosphorus, and other pesticides and fertilizer runoff. They also serve as important corridors for animals like deer and rabbits to travel between habitats.
Forests and Grasslands - the article cited here says that grasslands play an important role in forest ecosystems. Occasional fires prevent them from being entirely taken over by forest. They have extensive root systems, which allows them to easily access and cycle nutrients, indirectly benefiting the trees in the forests. Grazing animals control the growth of the grasses and plants, and also disperse seeds, including forest species. Like other ecotones, grasslands support a variety of species that are adapted to both grassland and forest ecosystems. Deer are a perfect example. Grasslands can also act as corridors between separate forests.
Overall, edge places are places of greater diversity and opportunities, while at the same time being places of risk, with potential for tension or conflict. They are fragile, vulnerable, and sensitive to change, whether cultural or climatic and so they become places of resilience as they have to adapt to changing conditions.
How can we extrapolate the qualities of physical edge places to other edges, such as in culture and ideas? This is where growth happens and where meaning is made.
The Meeting Place of Ideas
Culture can be defined as all the ways of life or wisdom of a people, including arts, beliefs, ideas, and institutions that are passed down between generations. It manifests through customs, manners, dress, language, religion, and rituals.
Cultural transitional areas are where two or more cultures converge and interact. Like physical edge places, the richness in diversity of cultures at these edges can have a powerful impact; there is more wisdom to draw from, especially important in times of stress and change. As Chelsea said in our class, “disturbance is necessary to build resilience.” For example, where I live, the dominant culture could respond more effectively to climatic changes by drawing on Indigenous wisdom and practices.
Culture evolves through changes in demographics, environment, and ideas. Some resist these changes and some welcome them. These transitional edge spaces can feel uncomfortable, tense, conflicting, even disturbing yet, at the same time, they can be inspiring and mind-opening. These clashes are necessary for new ideas or practices to emerge. This is where growth happens, at the edge of discomfort. We are going through a number of cultural edge places in our communities right now, especially around gender, race, and immigration.
“Life experiments and changes and flourishes in the places where bodies meet and dialogue with each other, asking questions, and mutually changing each other.” ~ Sophie Strand, The Body is an Ecotone
Donella Meadows wrote an article that remains one of my favorites, about the edges of the mind. Here’s an excerpt.
“The earth was formed whole and continuous in the universe, without lines. The human mind arose in the universe needing lines, boundaries, distinctions. Here and not there. This and not that. Mine and not yours. That is sea and this is land, the mind thinks, and here is the line between them. See? It’s very clear on the map. But, as the linguists say, the map is not the territory. The line on the map is not to be found at the edge of the sea. There is no exact place where land ends and sea begins.” ~ Donella Meadows, Lines in the Mind, Not in the World (1987)
I live in a border town between two countries, Canada and the U.S. The Niagara River is the human-determined transitional line between the two countries. Within cities and towns, there are also maps, real or imagined, that indicate separate neighborhoods or demographics.
The point that Meadows is trying to make in her essay is that these lines or boundaries or separations are only made by humans. They’re in the mind. The map is not the territory. There are no real lines. Everything is interdependent and crosses these imagined lines. Think of the edge of the sea. When does land become water? There’s no official edge, just overlap. Birds migrate over these invisible lines and so do ideas.
Humans love to create lines, to separate, whether on maps, in hierarchies, or between peoples. Lines can divide but they can also connect. Two or more things, side by side, juxtaposed, compare or contrast with each other to create an interesting effect. The edge is shared and is a place where one thing changes into something new.
I’ve also been interested in noticing what’s at the edge of my vision, on the margins or the periphery; the things that I naturally filter out because I don’t think they’re important or I’m not conscious of them. This is the edge of my knowledge. Often, these things carry important information about what I’m not seeing and what would help me see more clearly. You can always change your mind when new information filters in.
I remember listening to a podcast series (I can’t remember which one), where the interviewer always asked at the end, “where is your growing edge?” I like to think about that for myself every once in a while. What am I not seeing? What knowledge am I missing? Where is the edge of my discomfort? What other perspectives do I need to consider?
Reflect
Where are the physical edge places and ecotones in your place? What do you find there - diversity, chaos, danger, opportunity?
Notice contrasts, juxtaposition, or where things meet. See how they interact and affect each other. There are contrasts in color, textures, and shapes. But, it’s not always about material things. For example, when light meets a subject, it allows you to see the subject differently. How many different kinds of edges can you notice?
Relationships are meeting places where we often find meaning. Where are your edges of connection, your most important relationships, human and more than human? Pay attention to who or what you overlook. Where do you amplify one reality over another? How can you see from other perspectives?
What is your growing edge?
Note: As I was writing this essay, I serendipitously received Samantha Clark’s newest post, We are all Clouds, in which she writes, “Our bodies are not islands but relational networks with no clear edge.” She also cites an article by Sophie Strand, The Body is an Ecotone, taking edges to a whole new level.
I love reading your posts, and this one came with such fortuitous timing. I'm in training to become a Forest Therapy (Forest Bathing) Guide and part of our training - in fact, the theme we are considering this very week - is to consider our "edges". In our training, the interpretation of edges are ideas or things that we bump up against, that start to provide slight discomfort. As guides we have to think about our own edges as well as the edges for our walk participants and how to gently handle bumping up against them. So often, what lays just beyond is something powerful and beautiful.
So when this post came yesterday I couldn't believe the timing and I read it with so much interest. I am now visualizing our internal edges in a similar way to ecotomes, as a blending of two spaces and as places of vital importance for building knowledge and resilience.
Thank you for all of your thoughtful writing!
I find myself thinking of the edges in my neighborhood setting as well as in my work environment. It is my good fortune to live in a medium-sized vibrant city in a neighborhood with abundant green spaces and forested areas. I often see wildlife around my house or on my walks; I'm very aware that the wildlife habitat has been hijacked, sadly,by the built environment of humans. The bears, wild turkeys, racoons, foxes and other creatures are at a disadvantage as our (human) edges seem to know no boundaries. I venture out of my neighborhood to teach in a state prison. I'm often struck by the discordant reality of seeing deer roaming freely outside the razor wire fences enclosing humans. This is a microcosmic view of edges within my small parts of the world.