How to access New York's most rewarding hobby — right from your apartment
You can now join a tiny handful of New Yorkers on an adventurous moonshot
Someone asked me a question recently.
If you had to guess the single hobby most shared by the healthiest, happiest people in the world, what would it be?
Meditating? Running? Cold showers?
I'm not sure if there's an actualy answer, but, if I had to guess, I'd bet on gardening.
Plants have a way of making people feel lighthearted. Somehow, in addition to providing the bulk of our food, clothing, and shelter, they teach us how to live grounded and easy (have you ever seen a serious plant?)
People seem to have known this for a while. So many cultures — across time and tradition — have made building a relationship to the land (and sharing that with others) an integral part of life. A lot of this was out of necessity (e.g. food), but I still think there's something in the experience that's deeply satisfying.
The thing that kind of sucks is that its really hard for you to fell that way in a place like New York.
And it wasn't supposed to be that way.
In 1973, an unknown twenty-something-year-old artist — Liz Christy — started an incredible movement. Frustrated by the lack of shared space, she began throwing seed balls into empty lots with a beautiful vision — little green oases in the city in which community members could gather.
Her actions would inspire countless others, lead to the creation of the Green Guerillas, and result in the modern community garden movement and the 600+ gardens that we have today.
But then something weird happened.
Little by little, we stopped pushing. Our attention turned inwards — fighting with each other for space and putting it all under lock and key. Gardening in the city somehow went from being incredibly buoyant — a reclaiming of public space — to an elderly pastime, intentionally gate-kept and fenced away.
Somewhere along the line, we forgot our own agency. To act, peacefully, but without permission. To actually work to rekindle our relationship with the natural environment.
Today, the city has 50 Central Parks worth of unused space. It's hidden in plain sight all around us — across rooftops, balconies, medians, and rooftops.
So, in the spirit of Liz Christy from fifty years ago, we're creating a new sort of community garden.
One that makes it effortless for you to feel grounded, lighthearted, and easy — without a commute.
One that helps you share a connection to the land with other New Yorkers — in a way that fits your life.
And one that once again takes up an ambitious mantle: to rewild the city, one tiny garden at a time.
Mayank
Organizer, Mulch