The Epidemic of Lonely: Urban Design & Planning for Connection

The happiest I’ve ever been was when I worked as a Camp Counselor. The hours were grueling, the work humbling, the pay laughable, and the conditions downright prehistoric—but I was full.  

At 24, I was too restless to appreciate it, but Camp Sunrise was rare. Ten weeks of deep connection, unfiltered play, and relentless physical activity, fullyl immersed in nature. A kaleidoscope of socioeconomic and ethnic diversity. A community stitched together by shared struggle and joy. Above all, a profound sense of presence—every second of every day.  

Camp Sunrise was about as rustic as it gets. No electricity. No Wi-Fi. No real luxuries outside of a pristine kitchen and lodge where we gathered for meals and meetings. We bathed under the sun—literally. 55 gallon jugs of water warmed during the day, served as our showers. On early mornings and cloudy days, the water was downright frigid, and the jugs had to be refilled constantly to serve 75 dirt-crusted, sweat-soaked teenagers and young adults.  

The air smelled of pine, earth, fire, and mosquito repellant. Our hands were raw from pulling ropes and hoisting canoes. Nights hummed with crickets and the crackle of fire, interrupted only by laughter—wild and unfiltered—born of exhaustion and joy.  

The two summers I spent at Camp Sunrise were formative. They sparked a lifelong fascination with urban planning and design—a need to understand how communities are built and why they work the way they do.  

That spark grew into a flame after two years as a digital nomad, bouncing from Guatemala to Mexico, across Europe to Johannesburg, South Africa, and back. Along the way, I wrote the Small Area Plan for Frogtown, one of the Twin Cities’ most socioeconomically diverse neighborhoods. 

My travels and that project gave shape to the questions Camp Sunrise had planted years before:  

What does it mean to be human? And how do we build environments that honor that truth?

Now, as Creative Director for NEOO Partners, a Commercial Real Estate and Urban Planning firm, everything has come full circle. From the woods to the world and back to the heart of community, I’ve followed a thread that started at a campfire and ended with a blueprint.  

A Culture in Crisis

In recent years, numerous studies have illuminated what some call “an epidemic of loneliness.” It’s not just anecdotal—it’s quantifiable.

Loneliness is something I know intimately, as do my friends and family. The miles between us stretch further each year, fraying the threads that once held us close. A quiet, relentless erosion of connection.

We can point fingers at many cultural shifts:  

• Our relationship with technology.  
• The fracturing of spiritual foundations, particularly Christianity.  
• The grinding pressures of late-stage capitalism and the soaring cost of living.  
• Suburbanization, gentrification, and political polarization.  
• A mental health crisis exacerbated by all of the above.  

At their core, these culprits reflect a deeper cultural crisis—a distancing from principles fundamental to being human: proximity to nature, physical play, aimless wandering, social connectivity, and shared meals, or gathering around a communal fire. These simple, profound activities are who we are.

Intentional urban design doesn’t just support these principles; it amplifies them.

But here’s the problem: the laws governing how we build our cities are woefully out of step with our needs. Such as:

• Blanket Single-Family Zoning — that limits neighborhood scale, diversity, and walkability.
• Occupancy Limits — that restrict certain co-housing models.
• Minimum Lot Sizes and Bans on Accessory Dwelling Units — that prevent alternative housing types and tiny-house clusters.
• Exclusionary Zoning and Restrictions on Mixed-Use Development — that restrict village-oriented communities and walkability.
• Anti-Loitering Laws and Restrictive Permitting for Street Vendors — restricting social connection, small business, and third places.

These laws not only restrict creativity and inhibit connection, they remove the texture and personality from our communities. When planners do community engagement in inner city, diverse, eclectic communities, these are the neighborhoods they say they desire.

What’s the point of community engagement if we can’t build the communities people envision?

As urban designers, planners, and sculptors of culture, it’s our responsibility to design for human happiness, anticipate cultural shifts, and build places that reconnect us with each other, nature, and ourselves.

We—urban planners, designers, policymakers, community and government leaders—are complicit in our cultural struggles because every decision we make lays the foundation for the future.

It’s time to build better. It’s time to build human.

Designing for Connection

If I’ve learned anything through my experiences—at NEOO, grassroots organizing, and collaborating with changemakers across sectors—it’s that communities are transformed by those willing to take risks, work in concert, and empower the disempowered. And while the challenge feels vast, select cities and communities across the nation are paving the way—places like:

• In Saint Paul, Minnesota, innovative urban planning prioritizes equity, affordability, and walkability. The Rondo Land Bridge project seeks to reconnect a historically divided community, while creative zoning changes got rid of single-family zoning and enabled accessory dwelling units to foster density and diversity.
• Portland, Oregon, with its Urban Growth Boundary and EcoDistricts, prove that sustainability and community go hand in hand.
• Micro-communities like Culdesac in Tempe, Arizona, redefine what it means to live car-free, embracing walkability and human-scale design, while
• Detroit, Michigan is redefining itself through urban agriculture and the reclamation of vacant spaces, and 
• Boulder, Colorado, sets a standard for integrating conservation with vibrant, people-first infrastructure.  

These examples remind us that solutions exist—models to emulate, adapt, and expand. They’re proof that we can build environments where human connection can thrive. But it doesn’t end with planners and policymakers.

We all have a role to play.

As individuals, we must advocate for policies that prioritize equity and connection in our communities. Support projects that restore nature and foster collaboration. Volunteer, organize, vote, and engage in conversations that challenge outdated systems. Together, we can create spaces where people not only live but truly belong.

The blueprint is there—now it’s up to us to build it.

Myc Daz (@MycDazzle), founder of Creative Agency Discover Dope Creative and Creative Director for Planning Firm NEOO Partners, is a multi-hyphenate creative, designer, and futurist.