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are we marketing hope?
exciting news, diving into the 'sales pitch' of alternative communities, and some old records of sustainable desert building experiments
Jasper Lydon
February 25, 2025
Hello friends,
Exciting news this week: just in the past few days, we’ve reached 500 subscribers to the newsletter! and, in the same week, reached over 1,500 followers on instagram.
Building a ‘platform’ sometimes feels like a game with no winners, no finish line. but these moments remind me to celebrate slow progress, and to ecshew cringing at self-promotion to focus on sharing things that people want and value. And most importantly, to say THANK YOU to everyone who’s been a part of this journey so far!
GRASS ROOTS Newsletter has existed for less than five months, so we’ve grown by around 100 subscribers per month. That wouldn’t be possible without so many of you sharing with your friends and sending me the encouragement that keeps me going.
Thank you thank you thank you!!
If this conveniently happens to remind you that you have a friend you’ve been meaning to share this with, here’s an easy way:
You can click the button above, or at the identical button that’s always in the footer.
Demonstration greenhouse at the visitors’ center of EarthShip Biotecture
marketing hope
Many intentional communities and ecovillages survive financially by offering paid visitor programs — things like classes, workshops, retreats, immersions, and airBnBs.
People pay to come see a demonstration of how they’re living their lives — which is a little strange for both parties, at times.
“What a lot of people would say is, our product is hope, selling a sense of hope. We’re giving people a sense of hope and inspiration and meaningfulness in a chapter dark, desperate times.”
I once spent a whole day sitting in the visitor center of the Earthship Academy in Taos, New Mexico. A hundred or so people trickled through over the day, checking out their mini-museum, promotional video, and demonstration greenhouse. The crowd was full of excited parents bubbling about potential changes they could make to their homes and disgruntled teens glued to their phones. Most all of them would never live in an EarthShip, or anything close to it.
But that wasn’t the point.
A young Mike Reynolds (the inventor of EarthShips) in front of an early prototype — a house made out of recycled aluminum cans. Photo from the Earthship Biotecture records.
something else could be
People weren’t coming to the visitor’s center because they were ready to drop off-grid. Many of the attendees of ecovillages’ paid visitor programs never move to one, or make any drastic changes to their current affluent, urban lifestyles (generalizing, of course). But they leave with what they’d really paid for — a sense of inspiration, of limitless possibilities, and most importantly, of hope.
A magazine feature Reynolds landed decades later, featuring his evolved EarthShip design, using recycled glass bottles lined with cob. Photo from records at the Earthship Biotecture visitor’s center.
In some ways, I think that ‘marketing’ worked on me, too. I’m not living in an ecovillage. But every time I work on this research, I cling tightly to a seed of possibility of a greater world. I hope you all can get the same.
personal updates
The platform is growing bigger, and I’m growing older! I went for a run yesterday for the first time in a while and my knee started hurting immediately… does this mean I’m getting old? (Joking. Mostly)
Speaking of growing bigger, my seven-month-old orange kitten now weighs more than most fully grown adult cats. He’s super healthy, he’s just truly a huge cat, and getting bigger every day! Wish me luck with this behemoth.
I’m working hard on editing the latest version of my book proposal, and I’ll send that out in another round of queries by early March! Exciting times.
I guess that’s all I have to update this week :)
Much love,
jasper
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