To stand within building of pre-fiat grandeur is one thing.

But to actually live within it, to become intimately aware of its details and impress your own narrative as a tiny part of its storied legacy is something else entirely.

From birth until age 22, I lived between Edinburgh and Glasgow, Scotland. Cities steeped in immersive history. I consider myself very lucky for this upbringing.

My high school was built in the mid-1800s (originally a hospital).

And I studied design at Glasgow School of Art which, before its tragic fire, was considered a jewel of late-1800's Art Noveau architecture.

I left for the West Coast of North America in 2009 (financial crisis forced my hand) and I planted long-term roots in the city where I secured a career foothold.

While there was huge novelty in being surrounded by glass skyscrapers and unfettered modernity (which I'd previously only experienced in cinema or the American vacation), the lack of ambient aesthetic richness became noticeable after a few years.

The gleaming surfaces and geometric precision of contemporary architecture created visual impact but somehow left me feeling spiritually unstimulated.

These spaces felt efficient but disconnected from the deeper human experience of inhabiting a place that carries the weight of generations.

I've found that since leaving Scotland, every time I visit a heritage city (usually in Europe or East Coast US), there's great mental and emotional replenishment that comes from 'stone bathing' in old architecture of profound beauty and deep narrative.

Walking through narrow cobblestone alleys of Barcelona or running my hand along weathered limestone walls in Italian piazzas: Each triggers something primal and restorative.

When people discuss the power and sensation of 'grounding' (connecting your body directly to the earth to discharge your natural electricity) I feel the sensation is similar to being immersed in a building crafted in stone and drenched in history.

Grounding, is based on the idea that direct physical contact with the earth's surface electrons can neutralize the positive charge that builds up in our bodies from modern living.

Practitioners remove their shoes and socks to walk barefoot on grass, sand, or soil, believing this connection helps reduce inflammation, improve sleep, and restore natural electrical balance.

While the scientific evidence remains mixed, many report feeling more centered and energized after grounding sessions.

What I experience in historic stone buildings feels remarkably similar to what grounding enthusiasts describe (despite wearing shoes...).

Or perhaps similar to the internal 'quiet' that comes from 'forest bathing'- Being out in the forest to detox from the modern city.

There's a palpable shift in my nervous system when I enter old spaces.

A settling, a slowing down, and a sense of being held by something larger and more enduring than myself.

The cool touch of ancient stone seems to draw tension from my body the same way earth supposedly draws excess electrical charge.

And the aesthetic richness that comes from immersive 'proof of work' magically inspires me to simply try harder in all facets of life.

This practise of dwelling for a time within old architecture -along with the practises of forest bathing and ground- all involve connecting with something elemental and enduring, whether it's the planet beneath our feet or the accumulated human effort crystallized in stone and mortar across centuries.

Sounds a bit hippy dippy as I type it out.

But I find there are few better ways for me to creatively reset.

[Photo is Glasgow School of Art, pre-2018 destruction]