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Standing in Buffalo Park, a bluff above Flagstaff, it's hard not to be struck by the full moon. At an altitude of over 7,000 feet there's less atmospheric interference so it looks like there's a floodlight on everything, every diction you look. But it's not just the altitude that makes Flagstaff a unique city for looking at celestial phenomena. It's the world's first dark sky city. Meaning, it's the first city in the world to actively minimize its light pollution. The streetlights are designed to emit barely any ambient light on anything but the streets themselves, and there are strict codes on what kind of lighting setups businesses can have. And even up here in Buffalo Park, looking out over Flagstaff's dark sky, you can still hear the roar of two interstate highways meeting.
It's not hard to see that for many Americans, where you live has been determined by the Eisenhower Administration. If you look at one of those pictures of America at night, or for the more empirically minded, one of those maps where a red dot represents x many people, you'll see that population patters form a Cartesian grid across the middle. The people go where the roads go.
Flagstaff itself might be the exception that proves the rule. It first rose to prominence because of the railroad lines, and then was sustained by the oft-romanticized Route 66. Now two only two trains stop each day, one going east and one going west, and Route 66 is a creation myth. But it survived as the hub of Northern Arizona because, well, as far as the interstate patterns go, it is the hub. It's why Flagstaff is Flagstaff, instead of Holbrook or Winslow or Bellemont or Williams. And it wasn't just a silly name that's kept Tuba City from taking that place. Instead of the roads fitting the population geography, the population geography fits where the roads are.
But how has the interstate system shaped our minds? Or more specifically, how does the interstate make us think about where we are and where we're headed? (In a strictly literal sense, and not the kind of literal that actually means figuratively.) Because if you're headed somewhere, you're probably taking the interstate.
That's how I got to Flagstaff. It was in a van that doubled as the owner's house. I found the ride on Craigslist. We left Albuquerque at 10 AM and got to Flagstaff at 2:30 PM, the whole time taking just one road. We needed no landmarks to navigate. We crossed the Continental Divide without having to find the most gradual ascent or the most suitable passage. The interstate took us there.
And still, this is some of the more scenic fare the interstate system has to offer. Between the Rockies and the Appalachians, all you can see from the interstate is urban sprawl and signs for gas stations on top of long poles. There's no navigating that has to take place other than figuring out which exit to take and maybe a few interchanges.
The problem I have with this way of navigating is that you're not aware of how where you're going is related to where you are, and you certainly aren't aware of any of the points in between. There's no spatial awareness being developed, no mental map being made of the land and the terrain. It's just a series of tubes that will get you to your destination. Every place becomes an isolated location in which you just appear.
Now we don't even need to look at a map. Your phone just tells you where to turn if you ask it. There's no brainwork involved in figuring it out.
I've always been a person who values knowing exactly where I am, and where that is in relation to everything else. I have a smart phone but I don't use the GPS. I look at the map and figure out where I'm going manually. Why? Because I like my mind being engaged that way. And I want to know where I am.
The most useless people when it comes to orienting themselves are generally the ones who grew up in mass-produced suburbias. They've got to be driven everywhere in your mom's minivan, with a gameboy or DVD player in the backseat to keep them from looking out the window and observing where they're going. These kids grow up thinking you just appear in places. They don't see how all the places are connected. And most of us, thanks to the interstate system and internet-assisted navigation.
Now I'm all for progress, but I don't know if I would call this progress. Technology has advanced, but our brains have regressed in a certain kind of spatial understanding. Call me idealistic but I think that technology exists to make humans better and more effective, not the other way around. (I think even Ray Kurzweil could agree with me on that one.) Technological advances are a failed endeavor if they downgrade humans in the process.
So let's be aware of where we are. Look at a map, look at the landmarks, watch the subtle changes in ecosystem and landscape as you go. And find your way without asking the internet or your phone where to go. Think of it like a game. And you get points for doing well. Those points make your brain level up and then eventually you get a better brain.
But if you don't use your brain, it will never level up.
