Save America’s Ecovillage

This time last year, I was biking through Western North Carolina and Eastern Tennessee, regions that have now been devastated by Hurricane Helene. It’s shocking to see pictures of charming mountain towns I recall riding through, now torn-up and buried by the flooding.

One of those places is Earthaven Ecovillage, one of America’s longest-running (30 years), largest (~100 people) active ecovillages. I stayed a night and toured the village last year, and was awestruck by how beautiful of a place and community it was. The village gave me a feeling I’d never experienced in a place before: so serene, strong, lively, and grounded. It’s a memory that continues to inspire me. Since then, I’ve strongly recommended visiting Earthaven to anyone passing through the area.

However, that won’t be possible for a while, due to the extensive hurricane damage.

Village member Rachel writes in the Earthaven newsletter:

The damage to our infrastructure is extensive. New roads and bridges have to be built. We have already spent an unknown amount of money on emergency efforts and community meals. Our village economy has collapsed and many will be in need and without employment until safe access across these mountains has been restored.

I have donated to their fundraiser because I believe that Earthaven is one of the most important communities in America. You can count on one hand the number of living American ecovillages of this scale. Ecovillages are the vanguards of cultural change: they provide an invaluable source of inspiration and experimentation for a better society. They must continue.

I have also donated to On Your Bike, a bike shop in Marshall, NC that I had the pleasure of stopping at last year. After days of solo riding through a world that can feel quite hostile to cyclists, finding a warm local bike shop feels like coming home. Unfortunately, Marshall was hit very hard by the hurricane, and the bike shop was basically destroyed as well.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by On Your Bike (@onyourbike_nc)

The owners write in their posts:

I grabbed a couple cookies on the way out and this might be all that’s left of our lovely little shop. The windows didn’t hold. The water was up to the ceiling. That’s all we know at the moment. We found a couple of chairs in the debris on the other end of town. Our hearts are broken but we are all safe and otherwise well…

We need shovels, and a wheelbarrow, gloves…fuck I don’t even know what else. The front of the shop is gone, the back is in 3 to 4 feet of mud and our dog has had 6 strokes since Friday…

It’s going to be a long road back. The building took immense damage. The windows didn’t hold and the contents of most of the shop are gone. What’s left is buried in 3 to 4 feet of mud at the back of the shop. Y’all – it’s bad. Our lovely little town took a serious blow and much of the east end of Main Street was taken entirely by the river.

I used to have a much more reserved stance on donating to “local” or even national causes, during my Effective Altruism era. If you’re familiar with that type of consequentialist calculus, I’ll just offer this to consider: Mutual aid is a real way to contribute towards the cultural change necessary for a fundamentally safer, better society. It’s not just a road we’re rebuilding, but a world where people can count on their communities to care about them, and don’t need to resort to climbing ladders of oppression and accumulating destructive power to feel safe. And it doesn’t take much to participate!

Lastly, I want to share a bit more from the latest Earthaven newsletter:

If ever you doubt, know that goodness shines from the hearts of humanity. Community is alive in every pocket of these mountains as neighbors help neighbors and strangers become friends or heroes. Even as we stand in shock and awe at the power of water to devastate and alter the landscape forever, even as we grieve the losses of our homes and loved ones, there is beauty in the hearts and hands of Appalachia’s people...

It is easy to feel overwhelmed with grief, guilt, and helplessness right now.

Slow down. Breathe. Let the tears fall. Look for beauty. See the helpers. Let the light in. Commit a small act of care for yourself or another. It matters.”