SolarPunk Story - Voices from the Village
Fictional Tales about EarthWise EcoVillage, the intentional living community nestled on the outskirts of Canberra, Australia
Sarah Johnson sat on the porch, morning light flickering through the gum trees. The garden stretched before her, green and still. Inside, her kids squabbled. Again.
She took a long breath. This place—EarthWise EcoVillage—was supposed to be her haven. A place to reset, reconnect, live with intention. But lately, she just felt… hollow. Like she was disappearing into compost and routines.
“Hey, Sarah. You okay?”
She looked up to see Elena at the gate, a basket of herbs tucked in one arm.
Sarah offered a tired smile. “Just tired.”
“You’ve been quiet,” Elena said, stepping through. “You alright?”
Sarah hesitated. “I don’t know. I just feel like… maybe there’s more I should be doing.”
“Maybe it’s not about doing more,” Elena said gently. “Maybe it’s about being seen.”
Two days later, Sarah spotted a film crew outside Elena’s house. Cameras. Lighting. The whole setup.
She drifted closer.
“They’re from Living Big in a Tiny House,” Elena said between takes. “Third time they’ve filmed here. The last video got millions of views.”
“Millions?” Sarah blinked. “Like—people watch this?”
“Oh yeah,” Elena laughed. “They get ad money from it, sponsorships, you know Influencer stuff.”
Sarah stood there, stunned. She watched as Elena spoke confidently to the camera, sharing her journey, her choices, her story.
And for the first time in weeks, Sarah felt a flutter in her chest. Not envy. Not exactly. Possibility.
Later that evening, she stood at the stove, stirring lentils, still turning it over in her mind.
“YouTube pays people?” she asked aloud.
Mia, her daughter, looked up from the table. “Yeah, duh. Ads, sponsors, memberships, merch. If your channel’s good, you can make decent money. People do it as a full time job.”
“How do you even start one?”
Mia lit up. “Okay. You need a channel. Thumbnails. Tags. Editing software. You need to be vibing”
Sarah laughed. “Great. So, just be interesting and tech-savvy. Easy.”
Mia grinned. “Mum, are you going to be an influencer? Don’t worry, remember: Be a warrior, not a worrier.”
Sarah smiled, gotta love it when the kids sass your own yoga sayings back to you.
The next morning, Sarah stared at an old digital camera sitting on the kitchen table.
She hit record.
“Hi. I’m Sarah. Welcome to EarthWise EcoVillage—”
She froze. Fumbled. Hit stop. Groaned.
Mia peeked in. “We’ll edit out the weird bit.”
“We?”
“I’m your producer now,” Mia said, grabbing the camera. “Let’s go meet Bill and his worm farm.”
Over the next few weeks, they filmed everything—Bill explaining compost layers, Carmen showing off the vertical veggie wall, Leo and Mia building a solar oven.
Sarah learned to trim clips, add soft music, stitch it all together. Mia taught her thumbnails, tags, titles, and how to read the analytics.
The videos weren’t perfect. But they were real.
Slowly, the views crept in. Then comments.
“Subscribed!”
“This is what the world needs.”
“Please do more of this.”
And then—her first 1000 subs.
She stared at it, disbelieving. “We just…wow, how many people watch this?”
Mia whooped. “Told you!”
It wasn’t just the possibility of future money. It was the sense of purpose. Of having a voice again.
Then came the backlash.
“So much for ‘eco’—using tech to brag about it.”
“Feels fake. Is this just content now?”
Sarah stared at the screen. She tried to brush it off. But it stuck.
She didn’t film that day. Or the next.
Her half-edited video sat on her desktop. Her inbox was full—requests, questions, praise—but also more criticism.
And worst of all, she started asking herself: What if I’m just pretending?
She shut the laptop. Everything felt heavy.
Three days passed. No filming. No posting. She avoided the garden. Even Mia.
Then, one evening, as the sun dipped low and the village settled into its gentle hush, Sarah wandered outside barefoot.
“Mum!” Mia called. “Come see the stars!”
She lay down next to her daughter on a blanket, sky wide above them, pinpricked with light.
They didn’t talk. They just looked up.
And slowly, her breath came back to her.
She didn’t need to be polished. Or perfect.
She just had to be present.
The next morning, she sat down, hit record, and said:
“This place isn’t perfect. We argue. We fail. We try again. But we care. And that’s worth sharing.”
She posted the video without overthinking.
The comments came in fast.
“Thank you for being honest.”
“This feels real.”
“This gives me hope.”
Mia leaned over her shoulder. “practice makes progress”
Sarah smiled, how many times had she said that during her yoga workshops.
She hadn’t just started a YouTube channel.
She’d found a way to speak.
And maybe even more than that—she’d found her way back to herself.
Beautifully written:)