Permaculture is this.
A broken kitchen garbage can pedal here at Wheaton Labs repaired with a piece of wood and a little ingenuity instead of being thrown away.
And I know that probably sounds silly. It’s such a small thing. Most people would walk past it without even noticing.
But honestly, standing there looking at it, something finally clicked for me.
For the past roughly seven months since arriving here, I’ve listened to Paul talk about resourcefulness, reducing waste, repairing things, using what you have, and changing the culture little by little. And somehow all of that came together for me in one quiet moment beside a garbage can.
Because the repair itself is tiny.
It probably saved almost no money.
It’s not flashy.
Nobody is going to make headlines over it.
But ideas spread like seeds.
A small thing can plant a thought in somebody’s mind that stays there forever.
Instead of:
“Throw it away.”
The thought becomes:
“Maybe this can still be useful.”
“Maybe I can fix this.”
“Maybe we don’t need to replace everything.”
And I think enough small moments like that can genuinely change billions of lives over time.
Not all at once.
Not through force.
Just quietly.
One repaired object.
One garden bed.
One reused material.
One person thinking differently than they did before.
And honestly, I’ve started noticing that same spirit in the people here too.
Recently Bounce gifted us a hard drive along with other delightful goodies. And while a hard drive might just seem like another object to most people, to me it feels like possibility.
That drive is going to store footage from my time here at Wheaton Labs, future projects I want to document, ideas I’m still growing into, and pieces of a life I’m actively trying to build with more intention and purpose.
To me, that generosity matters.
Because permaculture isn’t only about soil, gardens, or repairing broken things.
It’s also about people investing in each other.
Sharing tools.
Sharing knowledge.
Sharing encouragement.
Helping someone continue creating instead of stopping.
That’s what permaculture feels like to me now.
Not perfection.
Not fancy aesthetics.
Just people slowly relearning how to see value in things again.