In nature, nothing stands alone. Permaculture design—the art of creating sustainable landscapes—mirrors this by building resilience through integration rather than separation. It organizes life into “zones” that circle outward from the home to the wider community.

Conservation efforts are likewise woven together when Earth-conscious individuals form circles of community that grow and reach, stretching their tendrils to interweave with other circles, strengthening the protective, nourishing roots of homegrown actions.

 

Cultivating a Better Future

Working directly with permaculture, Brandi Mack strives to spark collective change and build lasting legacies of justice and well-being. Influenced by her grandfather, who farmed the fertile soils of Oakland, California, she is a holistic health educator, permaculture designer and co-founder of The Butterfly Movement. Describing the work of this nonprofit, she explains, “We focus on cultivating sovereignty, healing and personal development through land, food and art for Black women and girls.”

“My grandfather said, ‘If you build the soil, you can grow anything,’” Mack recalls. “We facilitate spaces for Black youth and their mothers to reconnect with the land through gardening, learning about food as medicine and reclaiming a relationship with the natural world. Our focus is on our beloved sisterhood—the feminine—as Black women and girls. If we can elevate that, the world will elevate. That is justice.”

Mack envisions the collective potential of the next generation, knowing that they have gifts to share. She has raised her daughters by example, teaching them that it is okay to experiment and grow, and she also encourages older generations to let go of antiquated narratives and let the youth lead.

 

Regenerating What is Good

Marvin Hayes is a spoken word artist and executive director of the Baltimore Compost Collective. When he founded this youth-led initiative 11 years ago, he wanted to address what is known as the “sacrifice zone” of waste incineration that blew pollutants all over South Baltimore, threatening the health of his community.

Research published in the Australian and New Zealand Journal of Public Health suggests that living near waste incineration facilities is associated with higher risks of certain cancers, birth defects and other negative health outcomes. In the United States, such health burdens are not evenly distributed because 80 percent of municipal solid waste incinerators are located in communities where more than a quarter of residents identify as people of color, live below the federal poverty line, or both.

“The wind doesn’t segregate or discriminate,” says Hayes, noting that air pollution from sacrifice zones blows equally to all neighborhoods, becoming a collective public health concern. Today, he serves 400 households and diverts 2,000 pounds of weekly waste from the incinerator. He uses his business to improve public health, educate local youth about entrepreneurship and advocate for environmental justice in the community.

Instead of going to a trash incinerator, household waste can become an agent of regeneration. According to Hayes, composting nourishes nutrient-depleted soil, making it excellent “black gold” for growing food. It also remediates soil that may be contaminated with lead or other metals and diverts waste from air-polluting incinerators, while providing an opportunity for the community to come together, he explains.

 

Traveling Lightly

“Composting is critical, because when food ends up in a landfill, it chemically degrades differently than it would in a compost pile, producing methane gas that is 28 times worse than CO2,” says Samuel McMullen, co-founder of ZeroWaste.org alongside his sister, Lydia McMullen-Laird. “The hardest thing to do in living a zero-waste lifestyle is addressing food and food packaging,” he shares, adding that one-third of global greenhouse gas emissions are linked to the making, transport and refrigeration of food.

According to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, food waste is the number one component in landfills, accounting for one-quarter of their mass. The average American sends approximately 350 pounds of food waste to the landfill each year, with a family of four losing $1,500 annually to uneaten food, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.

To address this issue through prevention, McMullen runs the Zero Waste Challenge—an invitation to produce as little waste as possible for a week, while reflecting on the garbage created. On Earth Day, a similar challenge can be accessed virtually from anywhere in the world at ZeroWaste.org.

“Learning follows action. Take action first,” advises McMullen, who sees zero-waste habit-building as a practical entry point for broader change. Holding corporations accountable for climate change and focusing only on institutions to make a difference can make people feel powerless, he observes. By tracking their trash, choosing reusables and making small sustainable swaps, individuals can begin to build tangible skills for activism efforts in systems change.

“The beauty of the [Zero Waste] Challenge is that you confront your own waste footprint,” McMullen says, adding that participants are invited to examine their trash from a place of curiosity, rather than criticism. “It’s easy to cut your waste in half. The last 10 percent is very challenging, but that’s okay. The goal is progress, not perfection.”

McMullen relates that even eating at a restaurant can be an opportunity to practice zero waste principles by bringing a reusable container and bag for leftovers to reduce single-use packaging and opening playful dialogue with restaurant staff to make a game of reducing waste throughout the meal. “Don’t be annoying about it,” he quips, noting that reducing our personal waste footprint is secondary to building a social culture of sustainability and teamwork. “The main function is to build awareness with other people—to create common ground and to show that there is another way.”

 

Sharing Stewardship

For three years, Jen Myers, Ph.D., has called the EcoVillage at Ithaca (EVI) home. This upstate New York community is designed to be socially, culturally, economically and ecologically sustainable, integrating human life harmoniously with nature. Members rely on renewable energy, shared spaces, local food production and pooled resources to make sustainable living feasible.

According to Myers, EVI shares 175 acres of land—far more than a single homeowner could handle—including farms, forests and scenic natural spaces that are diligently stewarded by community members. Since its modest 30-household beginnings in the 1990s, it has grown into a lively community of 100 households. Living in community promotes sustainability by reducing individual environmental footprints and encouraging collaborative eco-friendly practices.

“I live in a net zero home, and it’s really rewarding having the infrastructure to make sustainable living easy,” says Myers, project director of the Thrive Ithaca EcoVillage Education Center. “I don’t have to do as much consuming as I would as an individual running a household in a typical suburban neighborhood.” Lawnmowers, playground equipment, compost bins and more are all shared and enjoyed together.

Myers likes to highlight the recreational opportunities available at EVI, including hiking trails and ponds for swimming and ice skating, as well as EVI’s communal dining spaces that make togetherness easy. The community also models multi-generational sustainability. “It is such a joy to know I am modeling conservation behaviors in my household with my daughter,” she says.

Everyone at EVI shares leadership responsibilities, meeting monthly to make decisions on critical issues. Residents commit two to four hours a week to facilitate the community, contributing based on their strengths in areas like administration, cooking, gardening, compost management and recycling. Myers appreciates this skill sharing, saying, “I’ve been so pleasantly surprised with how much value living in community brings to my life.”

 

Building a Resilient Culture

Sustainability is not a checklist but a culture shaped by what we normalize and celebrate. McMullen urges joyful modeling of alternatives, reminding us that “your actions are not really about you.” Visible practices—solar panels, reusable mugs, composting—ripple outward and shift norms over time. Myers calls this “ground-up design,” a liminal space where communities create the world they want by sharing resources and celebrating seasonal food, redistributing power and reducing isolation. Hayes centers youth leadership, cultivating agency and business skills in food systems so that youth are equipped to shape their own futures.

 

Embracing Life’s Reciprocity

Drawing from permaculture’s lessons, Mack says, “The soil is loyal. When you study permaculture, you are reminded that we are all connected. The only way we’re going to fix the planet is by remembering we are connected. When you know you’re doing something that affects someone else, you’ll stay committed. The reality is we are one species on a planet in the middle of the universe. We learn everything from nature. We are nature. It’s important for us to understand right now that we go fast alone and far together.”

 

Hannah Tytus is an integrative health coach, former writer at the National Institutes of Health and host of the Root Shock podcast, exploring cultural underpinnings of health.

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