For centuries, people leaned into the popular (and false) belief that possession—material wealth and stature—was synonymous withÌęhappiness. But now minimalism is on the rise, and for good reason: it works. With the popularÌęNetflix film and the massiveÌębestselling bookÌę emphasizing the benefits of decluttering, it’s no surprise that more and more people are cleaning out gear closets, streamlining their workouts, and buying less stuff. Because when you do, there’s way more room for adventure. Here’s how to be happy in 12 simple steps:

1. Purge

The first piece of furniture I ever bought kept me up at night. I was 25 years old, and the offending item was a 60-pound oakÌęarmoire the color of whiskey and the size of a standard refrigerator. It wasn’t the priceÌęor the quality of its construction that triggered the angst. It was what it represented. I now owned something that couldn’t fit in my rooftop RocketBox. I saw my adult life beginning, along with a relentless accumulation of more stuff. That armoire was the loss of my freedom.

Looking around my house nearly 20 years later, my vision was prescient. I’ve col­lected more things than I want, and finding a place to put them all is a daily struggle. My twenty­something anxiety wasn’t un­founded, ­either. Research has revealed a troubling paradox: not only is , but so is getting rid of things. For some people, the very act of shedding a possession triggers activity in the anterior cingulate cortex and the ­insula, the same parts of the brain that register physical pain. Which explains why millions of Americans, including me, have plunked down $10 for yet another possession: The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, a bestseller by Japanese cleaning consultant ­Marie Kondo. According to Kondo, dealing with your clutter can improve your well-being. “A dramatic reorganization of the home causes correspondingly dra­matic changes in lifestyle and perspective,” she writes. “It is life transforming.”

I bought my copy thinking it would be a needed catalyst for the garage-cleaning project I’d been putting off for two years. Inside is my gear stash, proof of a lifetime of adventure, and the only possessions I’d truly mourn in a house fire. Crampons that have felt summits from the Cascades to the Hima­layas. My first road bike. The BOB stroller that logged hundreds of miles as I trained for ultras and jogged my two small children to sleep. A lot of this stuff hasn’t been used in years, rendered obsolete by shinier new toys or my shifting passions. It was piling up. The issue came to a head when my fiancĂ©e moved in, along with her own stockpile. But any hopes that I would realize Kondo’s magic by confronting the mountains of sentiment in the garage were extinguished within the first few pages of her book. In rigid terms, she describes a “tidying marathon,” an all in, months-long project that will fail if not completed. If I didn’t address my entire household inventory—­closets, drawers, cabinets, everything—I would return to a state of unwanted clutter.

The garage would have to wait. I started by moving through Kondo’s list of categories in the prescribed order: “Clothes first, then books, papers, miscellany, and lastly, mementos.” The process forced me to confront those myriad places that attract random junk. The kitchen counter always littered with mail and school announcements. Bathroom cabinets stocked with bottles and tinctures. And that damn armoire, in which I discovered an incongruous collection of candleholders, board games, placemats, two puzzles, an extension cord, a New Mexico atlas, and an ancient video camera that records on something called MiniDisc. I took on these hoarding stations armed with a garbage bag (trash it) and a box (give it away). I purged like I was at a peyote ceremony. Over several days, I made four trips to Goodwill, where the staff began to recognize me.

Clothes, books, paper—those were easy. My garage came last, for it was filled with the high-end sporting gear that we adventurous types classify as mementos. It was here that my trust in Kondo’s method was tested. Her advice for deciding on whether or not to keep something: touch it, be aware of the feeling it triggers, and ask yourself, “Does it spark joy?” When I thought of my prized quiver of skis, bikes, and camping stoves (six of them!), I pictured Kondo asking the question and me defiantly answering “Hell yes!” to all of it.

One Sunday morning, I clicked the ­garage-door opener and confronted nostalgia’sÌęgrip. I started with the camping equipment. After careful consideration, stoves one, two, and three registered no spark. Neither did way too many headlamps, stuff sacks, first-aid kits, and ground pads. My first real trial was the sleeping bag I took on multiple cross-country family road trips as a kid. It was in that bag that I slept soundly in the back of our station wagon as my parents drove all night from the north rim to the south rim of the Grand Canyon to catch the sunrise. Running my hands over its greasy seams, I felt a powerful sentimental joy. I also realized that the memories it evoked were inside my head, not its weathered nylon. I put it in the giveaway box. There were three pairs of cross-country skis, each having carried me through the 40-mile . I’ve always liked seeing them propped against the wall, proof of my feats. But joy? It wasn’t sparked. I tried to draw the line at my first pair of telemark skis. No matter that they’re comically skinny, I thought, these babies rip. But nowÌęI was on a roll. I threw them in with the sleeping bag.

I went on like this for several more weekends, pawing flat soccer balls, tired camp chairs, and outdated bike wheels. Eventually, I to my absolute favorites and began reorganizing the space according to Kondo’s strict instructions—no piles. Finally, one recent evening, preparing for my first skin up the local ski hill, I felt a little bit of the magic. The real evil of clutter, the one I’d feared at age 25, was its ability to bog you down. Do I want to go backcountry skiing at 6 a.m. when the process requires an hour of rounding up misplaced necessities? Nope. I’ll just sleep in. But that night I ­entered the newly overhauled space, and all the items I needed—poles, skins, helmet, gloves, skis—were in exactly the right place.

I’d be lying if I said my life has been transformed. I haven’t touched my office yet. And I’ve actually noticed an increase in angst over the places that I’ve yet to tackle. But if tidying is indeed a marathon, I have faith in Kondo’s metaphor. I know how shedding weight and completing a long-distance ­trial brings on a curious euphoria. Kondo estimates that her tidying marathons take clients around six months, and I will keep running. But she’ll have to pry my BOB stroller from my cold, dead hands.Ìę—Christopher Keyes, editor Ìę

2. Put Down the Phone

“You don’t need to tweet or post during your adventure unless you’re a sponsored athlete whose livelihood depends on it. I promise you that no one really cares. I’ve grown to love it when an expedition starts and the bars on my my phone dwindle down to uselessness. That’s a sure sign that I’m headed in the right direction.” —Guide Dave Hahn, who has summited Mount Everest 15 times

3. Make It a Liquid Lunch

“Soup is a nutrition life-hack,” says ­Nicole Centeno, author of the and CEO of the soup-­delivery company of the same name. “It’s efficient and nourishing and keeps you fueled for hours outside without weighing you down.” It’s also a foolproof one-pot wonder. Buy a stack of plastic pint containers for single-serving storage in the fridge or freezer, and reheat for lunch as needed. Centeno’s favorite hearty soup, kale and lentil, is ­loaded with fiber and protein and made with ingredients you likely already have at home.

Kale and Lentil Soup (Serves 4)

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 small onion, diced
• 2 large carrots, diced
• 1 rib celery, diced
• 1 large garlic clove, minced
• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1 tablespoon Madras curry powder
• 3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 pound dried red lentils, rinsed and drained
• 1/2 pound dried green lentils, rinsed and drained
• 2 quarts water
• 2 cups thinly sliced lacinato kale
• Sea salt to taste

Process

1. ÌęWarm the oil in a pot over medium heat. Cook the onion, carrots, and celery, stirring frequently, for ten minutes or until tender. Stir in the garlic, pepper, curry, and cinnamon, and cook for one minute.
2. ÌęIncrease the heat to high, add the lentils and water, and bring to a boil. Add the kale, cover, reduce the heat to low, and simmer for 30 minutes or until the mixture thickens, the lentils are tender, and the kale is wilted.
3. ÌęStir in the salt. Serve hot.

4. Lighten Up

“I value celebration, possibly more than I should. You have to relish your accomplishments and take time off. IÌęalso have a terrible sweet tooth, and I don’t care. I will continue to eat Sour Patch Kids. I usually have three two-pound bags in my room. There’s a fine line between being anal retentive and being purposeful. Everything I do, I do with purpose.” —Ultrarunner Clare Gallagher, who won the 2016 LeadvilleÌęTrail 100 Women’s Division by two hours.Ìę

5. Choose a Uniform

Steve Jobs wore a black turtleneck and jeans every day. Mark Zuckerberg lives in a hoodie. Yes, they’re tech geeks—but not having to think about clothing frees up all kinds of mental energy for more important tasks. So what’s a style-conscious active person supposed to wear? Consider this foundational formula from Peter Buchanan-Smith, founder of Manhattan clothing and gear company .

• Chambray shirt:Ìę“Chambray is far more versatile than flannel—it can be worn with jeans or trousers. The material is timeless. Once you find the perfect shirt, buy five.”
• Sweater jacket:Ìę“Best Made’s , with super-heavy,Ìę100 percent western wool, is my armor.ÌęI wear it fly-fishing, as a winter jacketÌęin the city, and under a rain shell.”
• Aviator sunglasses:Ìę“ are classic. You can’tÌęgo wrong.”
• High-quality belt:Ìę“I wear Best Made’s almost daily.”
• Dark-wash jeans:Ìę“’s. You get so much for the price, and they only get better with age. ”
• Good socks:Ìę“Wool blend.ÌęNot too thick, not too thin.”
• Rugged boots:Ìę“I don’t think it’s overkill to have burly leather ankle boots as your daily staple, even in New York. I’d pick the . They’re like the Land Rover Defender of boots.”

6. Skimp on Gym Time

One of the pillars of the modern approach to fitness is the belief that gym-based strength training is essential, even for endurance athletes. Problem is, many of us take things too far. Two-time Olympic skier turned strength coach is part of a growing chorus of fitness professionals who ­argue that amateur athletes don’t need to spend more than two hours a week working out between walls. The upshot: you can spend a lot more time playing outside. “The danger for a lot of people is over­exercising,” says Twardokens.

She closely analyzed just how much gym work she needed to continue to perform at a high level. “I boiled it down to the essentials and created Minimum Dose, Maximum Effect,” she says. “The idea is to do the least amount of training that allows for good body composition and supports the activities in your life without wearing your joints down.” Twardokens, a ­National Masters Weightlifting champion, explains that her general workout philosophy is to “maintain strength and muscle mass through the basics, like squats, deadlifts, pull-ups, and dips. And that includes you endurance athletes!”

The rest of the time? Get outside and enjoy the sports you love.

7. Bring It Back to Life

In 2011, Patagonia launched its program, which allows customers to send in jackets and apparel to be mended. The company has since performed 170,000 repairs. Here’s a quick guide to fixing your own stuff—and taking better care of it in the first place.

• Keep it clean: Before storing technical layers at the end of the season, launder them in cold water with a revitalizing cleaner like and hang them to dry, says Lindsey Stone of Seattle’s , which fixes, updates, and renews all manner of outdoor fabrics. “Once something like is dry to touch, treat it with a DWR spray to revive waterproofing,” she adds. “Then stick it in the dryer on low for 10 to 20 minutes.”
• Avoid the common errors: “Wool is much more difficult to burn than synthetic fabrics, so consider a top layer of wool while you’re tending the campfire,” Stone says.
• Upgrade your field kit: “ is just as strong as duct tape, but it doesn’t leave a sticky residue,” Stone says, “so later you can properly fix a tear without a mess.”
• Save your sole: Don’t toss out those worn-down hiking boots if the upper structure is still in good shape. Legendary in Seattle can resole just about anything. He has repaired a pair of 1960s boots six times. Their owner is now in his eighties.

8. Go It Alone

“I always say, if I had to wait for a friend, I’d still be in my cubicle office. It’s easier to travel alone and has become a lot more socially acceptable.” —, author of the blog Nomadic Matt

9. Just Say No

“Most people overestimate how efficient they are, so we say yes to everything that comes our way. The result is you end up feeling overwhelmed. u. Saying no more often is actually more expansive.” —, author of

10. Buy Less, Live More

There’s a joke that we tell around the office: How can you spot an șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű editor at the trailhead? They’re the one removing tags from their stuff.

It hurts because it’s true. Some editors’ offices are so packed with gear that it’s tough to find a place to sit. I’m no exception. When I decided to take up mountain biking a couple of years ago, I bought two bikes: one hardtail and one full suspension, so I had the right ride for any situation. I currently own six fly rods—one for throwing dry flies on small streams, another for casting streamers on big rivers, yet another for windy days, and so on.

But when I read a recent story about Pata­gonia founder Yvon Chouinard that noted how most of his gear was made in the previous century, I began to question my excessive ways. I suffer that disease so common among middle-class Americans: overconsumption. And I’m not joking when I call it a disease. We’ve long known that buying things releases dopamine in the brain—a Ìęsuggested it’s even addictive. Partly to blame: the ease of the buy-now button.

It’s not just a biological pull, either. Magazines, catalogs, and websites—șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű’s included—assault your inbox, mailbox, and Facebook feed with new gear. I decided to fight back: for one month I would buy nothing but food. (OK, and beer.)

The first week, I felt like an alcoholic standing outside a liquor-store window. I had a strong urge to cheat, to buy something small like a book or a movie ticket. But midway through the month, the compulsive urge to consume relaxed. At home I realized that not only did I have a jacket that would get me through ski season, I actually had two, even if they didn’t breathe quite as well as I’d like. I began to look at things I previously considered at the end of their useful life—jeans with holes, a laptop that was a few years old—as perfectly functional.

I spent less time scrolling through gear blogs fantasizing about smartwatches or fishing reels, which meant that I had more time for things that really mattered: my wife, my friends, my colleagues—people, not things.

Late in the month, though, I caved. My wife and I recently bought a home, and we wanted to replace the old smoke detectors. “I’m not buying everything for the house this month,” my wife said, with a certain tone in her voice, suspecting that my pledge to swear off consumerism was a ploy to bankrupt her. I immediately went online and ordered two of them. Later that day I got her flowers, just to be safe.

The truth is, not buying stuff doesn’t feel as instantly good as hitting the buy-now button does, and I can’t say that I won’t purchase superfluous stuff in the future. But I realize that I don’t need it. In fact my life may be richer by not having as much of it. A few weeks after my experiment ended, I reached out to to see if it needed any packs or rods for its youth programs. I rounded up my extra winter hats, coats, and gloves to give to a local shelter. After years of being sick, I’m starting to feel better. —Jonah Ogles, articles editor

11. Don’t Get All Epic

I’ve got a bit of Viking in me. Not the raiding and pillaging so much as the deep-seated urge to explore distant lands. For years my M.O. was: save up money, blow it on a far-flung adventure, return broke, repeat. It was fun, but I’ve since wised up. While I still try to pull off big trips whenever I can, I’ve learned that closer-to-home outings can be just as satisfying.

I grew up in southeast Wisconsin and couldn’t wait to set out for the mountains and rivers of the West, eventu­ally landing in New Mexico. But when I go back to Wisconsin now, I’m discovering everything I overlooked. ­Within 20 miles of my childhood home in Sheboygan, there are sand dunes to explore, waterways to paddle, waves to surf (seriously, Google it), and glacially carved trails to wander.

Having kids has helped shift my perspective, too. In Santa Fe, a lifetime of family microadventures can be had right out the back door. This past fall, we spent a weekend rafting a section of the Rio Grande near town. It might not have been heroic by Instagram standards, but there were rapids, rattlesnakes, hot springs, and pictographs. The kids didn’t have to miss any school, and I swear I felt my inner Viking stir. —Sam Moulton, content marketing director

12. Use Paper

“I’ve tried all the organizational apps, but I much prefer putting pen to paper,” says legendary alpinist Conrad Anker, known among fellow climbers for both his skill and his preparation. “I like using , the lined five-by-eight ones. Every night I use a nice fountain pen to jot down my to-do list for the following day. Then I prioritize it, rewrite it to reflect that ­order, and think about it. On Sunday I do the same routine, but for the whole week ahead.” ­

Anker says that bulletproof organizational skills may be in his blood. “My sister is a professional organizer, with clients, so we joke that creating structure and having discipline runs in our family. I find myself flipping back though my journals and rereading them. Research shows that writing things down helps you process and remember them better, and I agree. I’ve been doing this since 1998.”

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Last fall, petitioned the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to add the iconic Joshua tree—a spindly, long-living succulent in the Southwest—to the endangered species list. If the service agrees, it will be the first time a species gets protection as a direct result of the impact of climate change. (In 2008, the FWS agreed to designate the polar bear threatened but not endangered.)ÌęThis would mean that factors con­tributing to climate change, like fossil-fuel extraction, could become highly reg­ulated near the park. “It couldÌębe a game changer,” says WildEarth’s Tay­lor Jones.

Most models pre­dict Joshua tree ­habitat loss of 90 per­cent within the nextÌę50 to 100 years due to climate-change-fueled drought. And just because 14 per­cent of Joshua trees reside in ­national parks doesn’t meanÌęthey’re somehowÌęless vulnerable. “Climate change knows no borders, and someÌęstudies found that their habitat mightÌębe some of the hardest hit going ­forward,” says Jones. Fish and Wildlife is expected to issue an opinion soon, but ­activ­ists say that they will continue the fight even if the tree isn’t designated—they’ve also submitted a similar proposal for two cold-­dependent insects in Glacier National Park.Ìę

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A century ago, when the mission of the National Park Service was spelled out, recreation as we know it didn’t exist. Since then pack rafts, wingsuits, and Vibram soles have come on the scene, and the increasing variety and pervasiveness of outdoor pursuits have sparked an unlikely battle between recreationists, who want to be free to ride, paddle, and climb, and conservationists, who want to restrict those sorts of activities in the name of protecting the land.

National Parks Centennial

100 reasons to love the parks (and a few things we’d improve)

Until recently, much of the disagreement over what should be allowed in our national parks focused on impact. (Snowshoeing and mountain biking, for instance, both affect the landscape, as does horseback riding, which is commonplace in national parks and wilderness areas.) Skiers, climbers, and others who play outside don’t want to harm the environment, of course. And the reality is that the impact of human-powered recreation is “really pretty minute,” says Bob Ratcliffe, head of the Park Service’s recreation and conservation programs. The larger issue is whether an activity fits into what the NPS calls the “mission of the park.”Ìę

“Recreation is still the redheaded stepchild of the Park Service,” says Luther Propst, chairman of the board for the , a leading advocacy and conservation group. “A lot of the hardcore conservation movement is made up of aging baby boomers who think the only legitimate way to experience nature is hiking at a leisurely pace.”Ìę

The Park Service remains the one land-management agency in the U.S. without its own division of recreation, though many in the service are beginning to recognize that outdoor athletes are getting stronger and more organized—and could become powerful allies in the fight to preserve public lands.Ìę

Ratcliffe, a former Colorado River guide and a Bureau of Land Management alum, began his current job in 2012. He works to help park managers shift their thinking and accommodate emerging activities. At in Kentucky, for example, allowing mountain biking would have been “inconceivable” only five years ago, Ratcliffe says. “Now, sometimes it seems like more people visit the park to ride the trails than to see the cave.”Ìę

The hope is that those riders—part of an outdoor industry that generates an annual $646 billion in consumer spending—will become conservationists, too.

“Some environmentalists turned away from recreation, and that left out a lot of users,” says Stacy Bare, of the Sierra Club. “We need to get more recreationists involved in the movement, and vice versa.”

Christian Beckwith, a founding editor of magazine, has made that his mission. A Jackson, Wyoming, resident and longtime climber, Beckwith started the SHIFT conference three years ago to rally adventurers, conservationists, and land managers around common goals. “When you take a step back, we’re all after the same outcome, which is to keep these lands healthy,” he says.Ìę

If climbers are busy fighting falcon defenders, Beckwith argues, then they’re not banding together to limit mining and other types of development. “What I’m trying to do is figure out how to leverage recreational interests for conservation gains,” he says. “Otherwise we all lose.”

Ìę

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In the 1930s and 1940s, the Works Projects Administration commissioned iconic posters of 14 national parks. You can’t afford the originals, but a new generation of artists have been inspired by the classics.Ìę

National Parks Centennial

100 reasons to love the parks (and a few things we’d improve)

Go Retro

Rob Decker studied under Ansel Adams and in 1980 began taking his own composite photography of the parks. He adds WPA-style effects to give a vintage look. $30

Practical, Too!

Jared Prince has been scanning and retouching original USGS maps of 17 parks since 2014. They’re but have a richer color palette. $59

The New WPA

In 2014, Max Slavkin and Aaron Perry-Zucker partnered with the National Parks Conservation Association to commission new posters via the . $25

Authenticity Is Everything

A company called has been silkscreening reproductions from the original templates since 1993. $40

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The national parks are ideal camera fodder: they’re inherently dramatic and gorgeous in any light. These three series stand out, whether you want an absorbing narrative, sumptuous visuals, or a little of both.Ìę

National Parks Centennial

100 reasons to love the parks (and a few things we’d improve)

Informative: The National Parks: America’s Best Idea

Six episodes, 12 hours, 53 parks. is without peer in its scope, cinematography, and research, even if the breathless exaltations get a little repetitive as the hours grind on.

Beautiful: More than Just Parks

. Filmmaker brothers Will and Jim Pattiz intend to capture all 59 parks in this Web series. So far they’ve done six, presented in five-minute time-lapse segments set to a Zen soundtrack.

Informative and Beautiful: Rock the Park

Hosts Colton Smith and Jack Steward (pictured above)Ìę. (Season two is airing now on ABC.) They bumble through backpacking and ice climbing, and end each installment with the exhortation “If we can do it, so can you!”

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In 1995, Roberts Rinehart published Death in Yellowstone, a story collection of true tales of demise within the park’s boundaries. Written like a pulp novel, the book sold more than 150,000 copies.Ìę

National Parks Centennial

100 reasons to love the parks (and a few things we’d improve)

Today there are seven more volumes, each containing breathless-but-real accounts of ends met at a different national park. Here are three of the most cringe-worthy excerpts.Ìę

Grizzly EncounterÌę

“ ‘He’s ripping my arm!’ the girl screamed as the bear bit into her sleeping bag. The bear had the zipper; she could not escape. Seconds later she cried again, ‘Oh my god, I’m dead!’ ”

—FromÌę

Dangerous Waters

“She was standing on top of the falls when she slipped on the mossy rocks and fell. The undertow trapped her between two rocks and kept her deep underwater. Visitors who were at the scene formed a human chain and tried to reach the girl, but the current was too strong.”

—FromÌę

Hot Springs Disaster

“Kirwan’s entire body was badly burned, as the skin was peeling off. ‘That was a stupid thing I did,’ Kirwan spoke softly. Another man ran up and began to remove one of Kirwan’s shoes, and the men watched horrified as the skin came off with it.”

—FromÌę

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Plenty of breweries are able to boast of their enviable proximity to national parks. (Coors, for instance, is located 30 miles downstream from Rocky Mountain National Park.) But only Superior Bathhouse Brewery and Distillery in Arkansas can say that its beer is made directly from one.Ìę

National Parks Centennial

See the complete list of 100 reasons to love the parks (and a few things we’d improve)

Hot Springs National Park has several bath-houses, most clustered along two blocks of historic Central Avenue, which runs through the heart of the park. Three years ago, park superintendent Josie Fernandez asked for ideas to help increase tourism. Rose Schweikhart, Superior’s owner, responded: “Make beer with water from the hot springs.” The park’s water has no taste or odor, and locals have been drinking it for hundreds of years.Ìę

Superior made its first hot-spring-sourced beer in 2015, and today there are 16 varieties on tap. “It’s the only business in the park system that produces a product using the main resource of the park,” says Fernandez. And you’ll have to make the trip to Arkansas to try it. “There’s not enough water to turn it into a big enterprise,” says Schweikhart.Ìę

Ìę

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Peggy Lemaux, a plant biologist at the University of California at Berkeley, was a lab researcher in 1987 when she first heard about genetic engineering. “I’d grown up on a farm in northwestern Ohio, and I thought, Wow, this technology has tremendous potential.” While at the lab, she was a member of the team that created the first modified corn seed. “At the time, I thought the big problem with GMOs”—or genetically modified organisms—“would be intellectual property, not consumer acceptance,” she says. “Boy, was I wrong.”

Today, it’s rare to visit a farmers’ market without seeing anti-GMO signs everywhere. There are good reasons for this. The first big GMO projects, in the 1990s, marketed herbicide-resistant corn and soybeans to farmers and encouraged them to increase use of glyphosate, the active ingredient in Roundup. “Abuse of that system led to herbicide-resistant weeds,” says Greg Jaffe, the biotechnology project director at the in Washington, D.C. “That will happen anyway, but this accelerated it.” Now farmers often must deploy more—and more toxic—chemicals. Scientists can’t predict the full impact of commercial-scale GM crops on bird and insect populations. Add to that a troubling lack of transparency from GMO-producing companies (and the sometimes murky relationships between Big Agriculture and academia) and there’s plenty to give the public pause.Ìę

Still, most scientists think it’s a mistake to dismiss the innovations around genetically engineered food outright. For example, barely a third of the American public . Yet there’s consensus among scientists—including those at the and the , among others—that it’s as safe for human consumption as any other food.

“We’ve never been so dependent on science, yet we don’t accept it when we don’t like what it has to say,” says Chris Lambe, of Columbia University’s .

Consumers shouldn’t confuse the technology with the companies that employ it, says Lambe. That distinction is especially important as the challenge of feeding the planet amid climate change and a surging global population—a projected 9.7 billion people by the middle of the century—grows ever more daunting.

To pull it off, says Jaffe, we’ll need to utilize a broad range of practices, including organic farming, conventional methods (sometimes with a mix of mineral fertilizers in depleted soils), and GM crops, especially drought-tolerant varieties in areas with declining rainfall.

“If we keep going on this trajectory of climate change and conflict, we’ll have to rely on technology,” says Jess Fanzo, a professor of ethics and food at Johns Hopkins University. “It’s incredibly important. We’re going to need genetic modification.”Ìę

Lemaux thinks that any environmental concerns can be allayed as the technology advances. For example, a new type of genetic editing, called Crispr, uses a highly targeted method to find and replace specific genes instead of injecting entire strands of DNA. And initiatives like the can help achieve a balance between licensing technology to Big Ag and keeping it available for use in research and to assist developing countries.

Says Lemaux: “Now that a lot of the patents on GM technology are expiring, academic researchers could make improvements, make it less expensive, and explore how it could be useful without needing the large agrochemical companies.”

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With almost constant talk about climate change, one could argue that the environmental movement has rarely been stronger. Unfortunately, that’s not necessarily a good thing. The problem? Many of those same environmentalists protest solar and wind projects because of the land they’d require and the wildlife they’d displace. Recall, for example, the project off the coast of Massachusetts, languishing in litigation for more than 15 years and still at risk of falling apart. Or the outcry over the Ivanpah solar project in California, which fried 3,500 birds in its first year of operation. (Not to mention the $56 million spent to relocate desert tortoises to accommodate the project—with mixed results.) In fact, nearly half of all blocked energy projects would provide renewable or clean energy, according to the U.S. Chamber of Commerce.

“Environmentalism has become NIMBYism,” says Michael Shellenberger, co-founder of the , which asserts that technological innovation—not relentless protection of nature—is the only way to confront our carbon crisis. “Renewables often have massive land footprints, and people don’t want that kind of development near where they live.” That’s not to mention that nearly 70 percent of renewable electricity in the U.S. comes from conventional biomass, the energy that comes from plant-derived materials, and hydroelectric dams, two methods many traditional environmental groups still oppose. In short, this is not the environmentalism of the Rachel Carson era, where a call to awareness was hailed as heroic. Nowadays, says Shellenberger, the movement is in a funk, grappling with fractious infighting while exhausting the public’s patience for its gloom-and-doom scenarios without offering pragmatic solutions.Ìę

But the more significant indictment of the movement comes from within its own ranks. “Environmentalism is fixated on fighting symbolic, short-term battles,” says Peter Kareiva, director of the and chair of the Science Cabinet at the . “Nobody actually wants to end up with a dystopian, Bladerunner world,” he says. In the battle of purity versus pragmatism, the desired outcome is the same: clean, sustainable energy for all. “We’re at this critical moment—can the environmental movement’s vision evolve into being for things, instead of against them?” asks Kareiva. “It’s time we all move on from blockades to solutions.”Ìę

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Chemex Coffeemaker

Unlike automatic-drip machines that direct a focused stream of water over one area of grounds, pour-over brewers like the allow you to saturate the coffee more evenly, resulting in a balanced and flavorful cup. Not only was the Chemex the best looking of the manual drip systems we tested, but because the cone and carafe are a single sheet of glass, it was the easiest to clean.

Bodum French Press

The baristas at Portland, Oregon–based Stumptown Roasters obsess over every cup. The hardware they use most? The French press, like ’s 34-ounce Chambord. This is partly due to the press pot’s simplicity: add water, wait a few minutes, plunge the grounds home. But mainly it’s because the technique produces a rich, robust cup in less time than drip devices like the Chemex. We like the Chambord best because its double-walled glass keeps your brew warm longer, while the stainless-steel casing helps protect it from inevitable drops.

Rok Espresso Machine

Espresso machines are expensive and require a lot of maintenance. That’s why Britain’s ROK, with its heavy steel hand pump, is such a brilliant brewer. The pump forces highly pressurized water through finely ground coffee, but it does so via muscle power, not damage-prone moving parts. It takes some practice to get the pressure right, but for the price, the is the best coffeemaker on the planet.

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