The Art Of Sitting Still On A Public Bench

I watched a woman today who was just sitting on a lime-green metal bench near the metro entrance. She wasn't on her phone, which is a rare sight in 2025. She was just watching the light hit the windows of the deli across the street. There was something so deeply grounded about her presence. It made me realize that the way our cities are built isn't just about traffic flow or efficiency; it is about whether or not we feel invited to exist in public without a purpose. When a space is designed with a sense of care, it gives us permission to exhale.

Placemaking sounds like an architect's buzzword, but it is actually a love letter to the human nervous system. Think about the spots in your neighborhood where you actually feel good. It is usually where there is a bit of shade, a place to sit, and something interesting to look at that isn't an advertisement. These small pockets of intentionality are what keep us from feeling like NPCs in a simulation. They turn a 'location' into a 'place.' When we have these spaces, our cortisol levels naturally dip because we feel safe and connected to our surroundings.

We are often just ghosts in our own cities until we find a place to pause. Without these anchors, we are just moving from one private box to another—house to car to office. That kind of transit-heavy life is exhausting. It strips away our dignity. But when you find a square or a parklet that feels right, you reclaim your humanity. You start to notice the rhythm of the people around you, and that realization that you are part of a collective is the best antidote to the loneliness epidemic we keep hearing about.

If your local area feels hostile or sterile, that is not your fault, but it is your invitation to act. You don't need a degree in urban planning to make a difference. It starts with how you use the space. Bring a book to the park. Move a chair. Suggest a mural. When we treat our public spaces like our own living rooms, the energy shifts. We stop being consumers and start being neighbors. It is a slow process, but it is how we build a world that actually wants us in it.

Take a moment today to find your anchor point. Even if it is just a particularly nice tree on a sidewalk, acknowledge it. We are physical beings who need physical roots. The concrete doesn't have to be cold if we decide to warm it up with our presence. Design matters because you matter, and the streets should reflect that back to you every single time you step outside.