Biophilic Urbanism: Designing Cities That Heal Us

^{Arashiyama Bamboo Grove in Kyoto, Japan}

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In a world increasingly shaped by glass, steel and concrete, biophilic urbanism offers a quiet but essential idea: that our cities should not just house us—but heal us.

They should be places where we breathe easier. Where trees and water aren’t decorative, but foundational. Where the built environment doesn’t stand in opposition to nature, but rises from it—with care, intelligence, and grace.

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My Journey Toward Biophilic Design

My first steps into the world of design began in earnest when I studied architecture—first at the AA School of Architecture in London, and later at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow. Both institutions deepened my appreciation for space, structure, and the subtle ways design shapes our lives. Although financial pressures led me to step away before completing my studies, the love for nature-integrated, sustainable design stayed with me.

After architecture, I turned to ideas and language—earning a degree in Philosophy and then an MA in English Literature. I taught English as a foreign language before training as a teacher through a PGCE and a Postgraduate Diploma in Education. I now work in local government, where I’m fortunate to be able to stay connected to the broader questions of how we plan, build, and support communities.

Through each of these chapters, the theme has remained: how can we shape environments—real and imagined—that restore, not exhaust?

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The Peace Found in Parks and Woodlands

While living and working in Tokyo, I made a trip to Kamakura, a city known for its temples and slower rhythm. At the Daibutsu Temple, where the Great Buddha sits in quiet majesty, I felt a rare, grounding calm. But one regret lingers: I didn’t visit Hokokuji Temple, with its famed bamboo grove—a place I only learned about after continuing my travels away from the balmy sea level Tokyo to the sulphurous, breath constraining, obsidian heights of Mexico. The missed Hokokuji Temple lives now as an imagined space, but one that continues to stir my admiration for bamboo and its quiet strength.

My love of wooded areas runs deep. Whilst living in Germany, I once strolled from Munich’s Englischer Garten to my home in Lehel’s Robert-Koch-Strasse. There I swapped walking for cycling along the forest trails from Altstadt Lehel to Pullach, where the Isar river runs beneath a shifting green canopy. That ride—lost in beauty—comes a close second only to my wanderings through Kamakura or Yoyogi Park during Tokyo’s Sakura season. These places speak to something elemental: that to be under trees, beside water, is to feel briefly whole again.

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Bamboo: Nature’s Gift to the Built World

It was bamboo that brought me back to thinking seriously about materials and design. Structurally, it’s exceptional—light, flexible, and strong enough to compete with steel in tension. Environmentally, it’s unmatched: fast-growing, regenerative, and carbon-sequestering. It thrives without deep water or fertiliser and can be worked with modest tools or modern machinery.

With new treatment methods, bamboo can now be used in reinforced concrete, taking the place of steel. This isn’t romantic speculation—it’s real, tested, and scalable. Bamboo is not a lesser alternative; it’s a leading material for a regenerative future.

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Design That Welcomes Joy—For Everyone

One project that stays with me is the Village Nature Centre Parcs near Paris. Its clustered, low-impact design creates a gentle rhythm—nestled in green, with water and woodland softening every view. Children run free there, enchanted by the layout and the landscape. But that raises a simple question: if children can find such joy and wonder in nature-infused spaces, why not adults?

Why shouldn’t we live in places that make room for beauty, ease, and play?

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A Question for the Future

Biophilic urbanism isn’t just about aesthetics—it’s about wellbeing, resilience, and sustainability. It invites us to rethink the city not as a fortress against nature, but as a framework through which nature can flow.

So I ask, as both a citizen and someone now working in local government:

If we have the means to build cities that heal rather than harm—why wouldn’t we?