BY THE OPTIMIST DAILY EDITORIAL TEAM Marco Hatch describes his own work with characteristic dry humor: “I’m a glorified clam counter.” What he’s actually doing is more complicated. As a marine ecologist at Western Washington University and an enrolled member of the Samish Indian Nation, Hatch is collaborating with seven Indigenous communities to rebuild clam gardens in the Pacific Northwest: terraced, rock-walled beaches that their ancestors engineered at least 4,000 years ago. Butter clams, red rock crab, basket cockles, sea cucumbers, seaweed. His data helps these nations secure the permits they need to maintain or re-engineer the structures. It also helps them reclaim food sovereignty and access to places that colonization, land privatization, and forced boarding school confinements put out of reach. Kyle Whyte, a professor of environmental justice at the University of Michigan and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, calls this a “massive shift” in how Western scientists relate to Indigenous knowledge. Historically, Western researchers classified traditional Native thought as mythic, religious, or fabricated. The reckoning with that position has taken a long time. Millions spent confirming what communities already knew The cost of that dismissal is measurable. “Often in science, you see millions of dollars being invested in [one study] that, at the end of the day, might just produce a very simple result that Indigenous people have known for generations,” Whyte said. “It suggests that if there was more collaboration, we could not only save money, but we could stand on the shoulders of Indigenous people and start doing more advanced studies about the ecosystem.” In British Columbia, researchers at Simon Fraser University found that when Indigenous groups tended forest gardens, they produced an impressive range of food plants, including crabapple, hazelnut, wild plum, wild rice, and cranberries, and improved overall forest health in the process. In Michigan, Whyte has worked with the Sault Ste Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians to restore prescribed burns, which many Native nations historically used to support populations of sharp-tailed grouse, snowshoe hare, and deer. Those populations declined after the federal government banned burning in 1911. After more than 20 ecology surveys, the tribe made its case. Kisha Supernant, who is Métis and Papaschase and directs the University of Alberta’s Institute of Prairie and Indigenous Archaeology, describes Indigenous knowledge as containing “a rich history of observation, experimentation and understanding that has its own systems of rigor.” That rigor comes from a fundamentally different way of organizing knowledge. Western science works in silos: ecology, biology, geology. Indigenous knowledge treats “the earth and the water and the air and the plants and the animals as deeply interdependent and interconnected; to understand one is to understand all. And that has a lot to teach Western science.” The frustration of having to prove what you already know The collaboration is growing, but it still carries a structural problem: Indigenous communities often have to validate their practices using Western scientific methods before they can act on them. Suzanne Greenlaw, a citizen of the Houlton Band of Maliseet Indians and an ecologist at the Schoodic Institute, participated in a 2016 study on how sweet grass rebounds after harvesting, part of a Wabanaki effort to reclaim the right to gather it from Acadia National Park land in Maine. They had been cut off from those ancestral marshes for at least 100 years. Non-Indigenous researchers initially chose study plots with no connection to those once used by the community. The resulting comparison showed Wabanaki practitioners understood better than anyone how and where to harvest for the greatest ecological benefit. Harvest rights may be reclaimed later this year. Greenlaw is now working on a restoration project in Acadia’s freshwater marshlands, using pollen from core samples to identify plants like cattails and groundnuts that Wabanaki communities once ate. The National Park Service data was scattered across spreadsheets “that didn’t tell a continuous story” of the landscape over time. “The question from Wabanaki people has been, ‘What is the land telling us? What is the story of the landscape? What is the story of plants that were here?” Greenlaw said. Whether the community will need separate permits for each food source or can be granted broader harvest rights over an entire freshwater habitat is still unresolved. “Wabanaki people have been here for seven generations, to caretake the landscape,” Greenlaw said. “The idea that we would harm [it] has not shown up in any examples we can give.” Who sets the terms For Supernant, the shape of the collaboration matters as much as the fact of it. “If the burden of proof remains on Indigenous communities to demonstrate, using Western scientific methods, that their knowledge is valid, I think we’re not at the place we need to be. It is difficult to braid two things together when they’re not given equal weight in the braid.” Greenlaw was more direct: “Western science can help, as long as Native people are still decision makers.” Canada’s 2019 legislation requiring the consideration of Indigenous knowledge in fisheries regulatory decisions is one sign of progress. Federal funding since 2022 has supported research into how the two knowledge systems can work together while each remains distinct. Whyte’s prescription for Western scientists is specific: approach potential Indigenous partners before research questions exist. “Let’s just get excited together about the topic, and plan from the beginning,” he said. “Indigenous people need to be involved at the earliest stages of research.” On the beaches of the Pacific Northwest, Hatch has seen what that openness produces. When Indigenous knowledge holders and land managers meet around a shared goal of reconnecting to place, “a lot of relationships are strengthened, and those connections are sprouting into new areas,” he said. Memories surface in elders and are passed to younger generations. “The beach is a great place to connect.”     Did this solution stand out? Share it with a friend or support our mission by becoming an Emissary.The post Why Western scientists are turning to Indigenous knowledge first appeared on The Optimist Daily: Making Solutions the News.

BY THE OPTIMIST DAILY EDITORIAL TEAM Most people have a type. Ask them to describe it and they will, with varying degrees of self-awareness: the brooding creative, the high-achiever who is always a little hard to reach, the warm one who still somehow needs to be talked into their own worth. The specifics differ. The underlying structure tends to stay consistent in ways that are worth paying attention to. What you call your type is probably not just a preference. Psychologists increasingly understand it as a template: a pattern encoded early in life, imprinted long before desire was something you could consciously choose. The process is called sexual imprinting, and it describes how early experiences — caregivers, first romantic encounters, the emotional temperature of the home — get encoded as templates that the nervous system later recognizes as desirable. What feels like spontaneous attraction turns out to be considerably more patterned than it appears. The parental blueprint most people don’t know about One of the more striking findings in this research involves adopted women and the partners they chose. Their husbands tended to resemble their adoptive fathers, not their biological ones. The more warmth and closeness these women felt toward their adoptive fathers, the more their husbands resembled them in emotional tone and relational style. “The parent you felt safest with may have shaped whom you find attractive later in life.” It gets a little more specific by gender. Men appear more likely to be drawn to women who share certain physical features with their mothers, a visual imprint that research describes as fairly consistent. This is the kind of finding Oedipus might find validating, you might say. Women’s imprinting tends to work through emotional texture and relational style rather than physical resemblance. Neither version is predetermined, but both patterns are real enough that knowing about them is useful. Adolescence: when the patterns deepen If early childhood sets the template, adolescence is where it gets reinforced and, for many people, where it does the most lasting work. The adolescent brain is specifically tuned for emotional intensity and reward: experiences feel more significant than they will later, impressions go deeper, and the sense that something important is happening has a staying power that adult life slowly trains out of us. The adolescent brain is primed to move through social experiences and test different connections, eventually putting increased weight on the ones that feel most rewarding or meaningful. First romantic relationships shape how a person understands connection: what intensity feels like, what it means for something to feel right. Those patterns tend to carry forward. The first person who made your heart race at 15 was not just a crush. They were calibrating something in you: what registers as exciting, what feels familiar, what attracts you; those responses were being set early, and they show up in adult relationships, whether or not your conscious self is aware of it.  Why the one who got away stays with you For a lot of people, the most powerful imprint is not a parent or an early crush but one specific relationship that never quite resolved: the one that almost worked, the mutual acknowledgment that timing was wrong, the ambiguous ending that was never really an ending. What makes those connections so persistent is not simply nostalgia. Research shows that the brain holds onto unfinished experiences more tightly than completed ones, returning to them with more frequency and more vividness. Romantic attraction also activates the brain’s reward system, reinforcing intensity and anticipation; when a relationship ends before that cycle completes, the brain keeps seeking a similar emotional state. This is why a current partner can be caring, available, and genuinely compatible, and still something feels oddly muted. While someone who evokes the emotional register of that unresolved past feels magnetic immediately. What gets called chemistry in those moments may be the brain recognizing a familiar pattern and reaching toward the version it never got to finish. “The one that got away is not always the person themselves,” explains Anna Elton, Ph.D., LMFT, CST, “but the imprint they left behind, a mix of emotional intensity and unfinished experience that continues to shape what desire feels like.” What to do with any of this Knowing about your imprinting does not make the attraction less real. It adds a layer of context that tends to be useful. There is a real difference between “I want this” and “this feels familiar, which is why I want it,” even when both are true at the same time. Working that out is not about suppressing desire. It is about understanding what it is pointing toward and whether following it leads somewhere new or reliably back to the same emotional territory. Familiarity can signal genuine connection. It can also just be what the brain has learned to seek. The more honest question about a current relationship is not whether it recreates the intensity of earlier imprints. It is whether it offers what actually holds up over time: something available rather than perpetually out of reach, something steady that does not require constant interpretation. “Attraction often pulls us toward what we recognize,” Elton says, “but lasting connection is built on what we choose to value and nurture.” Once you can see the pattern for what it is, desire becomes something you can work with rather than something that just happens to you. That is not a small thing.     Did this solution stand out? Share it with a friend or support our mission by becoming an Emissary.The post The science of why you keep falling for the same type of person first appeared on The Optimist Daily: Making Solutions the News.

When a baby learns a new trick, they love to show it off. They’re so proud of themselves, and when they get those they love to react, it makes them even more excited to keep going. Our favorites are toddlers learning new words. There really is nothing sweeter than hearing a little baby’s voice. When you pair that with an action, you might as well consider us totaled. Asa, a precious little baby, learned to say and wave, “Bye-Bye,” and he’s got millions of people wanting him to wave to them. @verityandsuns He’s in his ‘Bye Bye’ era #cheesebaby #cutebabytiktok #toddlertiktok #foryoupagе #babytalk ♬ original sound – verityandsuns This Baby Says “Bye-Bye” to Everything His mom shared a TikTok video of her precious redheaded baby saying “bye-bye” to everything and everyone he meets. He says goodbye to the shower, the shop, and even the swings. But when those baby blue eyes peeked out from under his teddy bear hood, and he said, “bye-bye ducks,” Asa made an entire generation of women start crying. OK, well, maybe that was just us, but he really is as cute as a pie. If nothing else, his sweet little voice will remind you of someone in your own life and might get you right into your feels. No, it wasn’t just us that fell in love with Asa. As a matter of fact, that video alone has more than 1 million views and thousands of sweet comments. “Not him saying bye-bye to his reflection,” someone wrote. Just seeing Asa makes people happy, no matter what he’s doing. “My heart melts every time i see him,” a follower shared. “No I genuinely can’t cope with him,” another person wrote. We’re with this person. Once you see him, you just can’t help it. “Bye-bye baby. Imma scroll now,” they wrote. This story’s featured image can be found here.

Instagram officially launched in 2010, and for nearly 16 years, we’ve all followed each other’s lives from breakfast to bedtime in photos and videos. Some of our lives are arguably more exciting than others. Social media is also a fun way to get a glimpse at what our favorite celebrities are up to. Some stars like to keep it quiet, which we totally respect, and stay off social media completely. Others prefer to make an entrance fashionably late. But when they do, be ready for the drama. Sandra Bullock finally joined Instagram in April 2026, and her first two posts teased something fans have waited for for years. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Sandra Bullock (@sandrabullock) Sandra Bullock is Heading Back to the Big Screen for a Much-Anticipated Sequel No, she isn’t’ teaming up with Keanu Reeves to drive a bus under the speed limit, although we wouldn’t be opposed. Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman are back together for the sequel to Practical Magic, nearly 30 years after the movie’s 1998 debut. Sandra and Nicole appeared in a reel together set to Faith Hill’s hit song This Kiss, with the very simple caption, “Owens sisters.” Immediately, Sandra Bullock’s fans went nuts, knowing exactly what it all meant. “You know it’s gonna be a good day when Sandra Bullock joins Instagram,” someone wrote. “First Sandra Bullock’s vlog, this is the best day ever,” another person added. Others made sure Sandra and Nicole know just how excited they are for this reunion and a sequel. “got our whole office hyperventilating, btw,” Sephora commented from its official account. “Can we just have a moment for how incredible these ladies look, though!” Another person added. This person said it perfectly. I am so happy with this!” They wrote. This story’s featured image is by David Jon/Getty Images for Warner Bros. Pictures.

The final performance of singer Marirose Powell has people welling up all over TikTok because of the soulful way she sang “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac while in hospice care. Powell performed as Stevie Nicks in a Fleetwood Mac cover band for over twenty years, so the song was a major part of her life. A week before she died from cancer, some friends showed up at her home and asked what she would like to sing. “And she said, ‘I want to sing ‘Landslide.’ And so she sang ‘Landslide’ one last time,” Powell’s daughter-in-law, Sam Xenos, who posted the video on TikTok, told People.  In the video, Powell grabs the railing over the medical bed as she sings a song about the inevitability of the passing of time. The song had to have taken on an even greater meaning as Powell was in the final days of her life. “I’ve been afraid of changing because I built my world around you,” Powell sings. “Time makes you bolder, and even children get old and I’m getting older, too.” “My mother-in-law performed as Stevie Nicks for decades,” Xenos wrote in a video overlay. “This was her final performance before she passed the following week.” In the caption, she added there wasn’t “a day that goes by that I wish we’d had more time with her. She was truly the only person I’ve ever known to leave people better than she found them. Until we can be together again, mama.” Powell passed away on April 10, 2024, at 62. @samxenos there isnt a day that goes by that i wish we’d had more time with her. she was truly the only person i’ve ever known to leave people better than she found them. until we can be together again mama… ♬ original sound – samxenos In her obituary, she is remembered for her “infectious smile” that “guaranteed to brighten anyone’s day and she was known for her incredibly kind soul and generous heart. She had the beautiful ability to leave all those she touched better than she found them.” In addition to performing as Steve Nicks, Powell released 3 solo albums and worked as an ER nurse. As a lifelong musician, she would probably be more than pleased to learn that her final performance has touched many people. View this post on Instagram “I hope Stevie Nick sees this. She would be proud to know that your mom sung her songs for decades,and her choice of this song was heartfelt,” one commenter wrote. “I’m sobbing. God bless you and your family. Your mom is beautiful,” another added. “That might be the most touching performance of ‘Landslide’ to ever exist,” a commenter wrote. Xenos and her husband, Powell’s son, are overjoyed that the video has gone viral. At first, she was afraid of how her husband would react to the clip being posted on TikTok. “I remember calling my husband nervous because he didn’t know I posted it,” Xenos told Upworthy. “He was over the moon after reading the comments and seeing people feel her genuine soul from that small clip. He asked me to post more videos of her and they have generated a phenomenal response. She was the most giving and generous person. I would tell her to post her music and she was worried no one would care. I’m so honored to have proved her wrong on that fact.” Nicks says she wrote “Landslide” in Aspen, Colorado, at 27. “I did already feel old in a lot of ways,” Nicks told The New York Times. “I’d been working as a waitress and a cleaning lady for years. I was tired.” She was also having a hard time in her relationship with Fleetwood Mac guitarist Lindsey Buckingham. She composed the song while looking out her window in the snow-covered Aspen mountains. “And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills / Til the landslide brought me down.” Here is a full performance of “Landslide” that Powell gave in 2016 at the Prospect Theater in Modesto, California. Jamie Byous joins her on guitar.  This article originally appeared last year. It has been updated. The post Singer in hospice performs soulful ‘Landslide’ cover ‘one last time’ appeared first on Upworthy.