EV Event at the Craneway

You're invited to join 3Prong Power at the Green Drive Expo this Saturday.

Normally the event is $10 per adult, but as an exhibitor at the expo 3Prong Power is able to offer you free admission to the expo. To print off a coupon for FREE admission go to http://greendriveexpo.com/greendriveexpocoupon and use the coupon code 3PRONG.

Green Drive Expo is a new consumer expo happening in the San Francisco Bay Area on Oct. 9. It's the first green car show of its kind in the Bay Area.

It's taking place in the Marina District of Richmond, right on the waterfront, at the Craneway Pavilion -- the location of a former Ford auto factory where the company built Model Ts and Model As. (The Craneway Pavilion is located at 1414 Harbour Drive, Richmond, CA. The Expo runs from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.)

At the expo will be exhibits, test drives, speakers and more! See Plug in Priuses and other Electric vehicles from major manufacturers including Nissan, Toyota and Ford.

Public programs include a session on the real-life experiences of EV drivers--including a Tesla owner who will be driving up from Southern California in his Roadster for the event.

Additional session topics include green car conversions, manufacturer's forums, consumer incentives, and bicycle commuting.

The keynote panel will be Chelsea Sexton, a long-time EV advocate and key figure in "Who Killed the Electric Car".

There will be activities throughout the day including opportunities for people to sign up as VIPs and show off their green vehicles. For more information visit the Green Drive Expo website atwww.GreenDriveExpo.com .

Electrically yours,

The 3Prong Power Team

A Bit of Culture (Sauerkraut and Music!)

What an amazing afternoon.

I invited Neighbor Jan and Friend Franziska over to make sauerkraut. Jan brought friends who played violin, guitar and banjo. So while we made brine by massaging cabbage and salt, setting up our cabbage cultures, they made music. The weather was of course very cooperative.

"What can I do to help?" asked Crafty Girl.

"And me! And me!" echoed the others.

"Here, help me grate carrots."

"Okay."

The sun kissed us, a breeze cooled us, the music blessed us, and we chopped, salted, massaged, and packed. It was our own little "Super Bowl" of culture.

Hank brought some sauerkraut he'd already made. "Mm, love the caraway seeds," I said.

"It's believed they help with gas," he said.

Well, I suppose on Super Bowl Sunday, a little fart humor is appropriate, right?

Franziska used some crazy grater/slicer that made parts of me run and hide whenever I looked at it. But it was German-made, and we were slicing up 'kraut, so it's all good. I know you can go to the store and buy sauerkraut. But you can't go to the store and buy an afternoon like this one. This is the goal of urban permaculture: use everyone's skills together to make every moment a reflection of Heaven. I got to live there for a bit, today.

Relieved and Inspired

Aaron finished setting up the video equipment in plenty of time for our guests to watch our new president's inaugural address. About 40 or so people came; friends, family, neighbors and neighbor's family. We laughed, we cried, we cheered. We caught our breath when Obama made pointed referrals to the previous administration's leadership's failures, and shouted agreement when he acknowledged the patriotism and dedication of the rank and file who served their fellow Americans even while under the burden of Bush/Cheney.

We served Martinelli's and champagne, and some light snacks. Of course the cups are compostable and the snacks made by hand. The amphitheater under the willow hummed with hope.

After, a black woman spoke first. "I am so glad to be here. I'd been having a horrible day, and now it's a wonderful day. And although Barack Obama is a black man, I don't think we really see him that way. We see him as a leader who will listen to us. And like he says, running the country is up to all of us. We've got to do the work. But I feel like now there is the opportunity for anyone to have a job if they want one. I feel like we can encourage our children to stay in school, and it's our job to help the schools and the teachers so our children can grow up to be who they want to be."

We all echoed these sentiments. It always has been up to us to do the work. It's been disheartening to see corrupt men like Dick Cheney siphon the cream of our efforts into his friends' hands and even into his own. I feel like the Bush adminstration picked too much fruit and gorged themselves on it, failing to tend the garden of our country, and the garden responded by drying up.

Now we hope we will see an era in which by common effort, all people will prosper.

The End of the Error

If you know me IRL and would like to come over on Tuesday the 20th at 7:00 pm to celebrate the End of the Error, you are welcome to watch our presentation of President Obama's inaugural address. It'll be in the backyard, on the movie screen. Send me a message via Facebook.

Oh.My.Golly.

Getting the four of us to Joe and Mary's took as much skill as giving cats a bath. Caitlan from Santa Cruz showed up at our door after I'd taken Nicholas to the train to get there early to play. Staying around home was driving him crazy. He walked from the train station to Joe and Mary's spread "Three Meadows" (he was having and adventure).

We arrived around midnight after organizing ourselves semi-successfully.

The feasting started in the morning, with pancakes. Alisa and her crew arrived with five pies. Cousins and parents and friends began arriving. The doorbell rang and rang; "I don't answer it," Mary told me. "I'm training people to find their own way into the house. That way I don't have to drop whatever I'm doing and run to the door."

We solved the kiddie table problem by just throwing food into the video game room. The rest of us sat in the crisp autumn air and gave thanks and toasted and got to know people from various intersections of our lives.


After dinner one of the youths treated us to a fire show! The persimmon tree makes a good backdrop.

At Mary's, there is often the ceremonial wearing of the gowns, and this Holiday was no different.

Perhaps the only thing sexier than a man doing the dishes is that man wearing an evening gown while doing the dishes? Okay, so that part of the wearing of the gowns was different. I really enjoyed playing Twister® in a slinky black dress.


With the men in the kitchen, the women had to entertain themselves on the living room rope swing.

I am so toasty from days and days of non-stop fun and meeting new people who are fascinating and reconnecting with old friends and not nearly enough exercise and eating constantly that my brain is mush, and although many exciting and wonderful things transpired I honestly cannot relate them all.

You had to be there.

Footnote: Driving home, the Muse of Mania began to release me, and I looked forward to quiet and falling over in my own bed. But I walked in the door of home to a mini-dinner party of homemade chicken noodle soup! Everyone was getting home about the same time, and we were all so glad to see each other that we ended up partying in the backyard!

My tigger-spring finally broke when Betsy put on the rainbow caterpillar tube and danced to "Mr. Fancypants." At that point I literally laughed myself silly, and unable to stay awake any longer went to sleep.

A Good Work Party

What a fun day. Not only did we accomplish many tasks, but we had great fun getting them done (or not getting them done and just being together). Last night I ditched the bonfire and walked with Liz and Karl to a pub and saw a decent band, danced a little, and on the way home enjoyed Liz's rant about going out versus staying home by the fire. I can't share it with you, sorry. Rolling in to bed at 2 am, Xena asked me, "Don't you have a work party tomorrow?" Yes I do, but Karl is foreman, and he's out late too, so it'll all be good. I woke up still giggling about what Liz said.

Task one is to clear the driveway for 4 cubic yards of drain gravel. Xena ordered it while I was at Home Depot scratching my head over parts for the heating project. The vegie-oil bus had to move. Betsy and Jori are pros at getting that thing down our makeshift ramps, now.

Yes, Jori is a staff member. Our only staff member. 'Cause he's got the shirt.

Falling rock. Nicholas successfully avoided getting buried. We paid the guy with our ATM number and lemons.

Then we had to put the pile where we wanted it.

Liz and Christine got busy in the kitchen (make sure you use every pot, pan and knife, ladies!) getting dinner ready . Nini fed us lunch and kept us hydrated. Other people kept children busy or out of the way, helped move the furnace, lit pilot lights, shoved furniture around, re-varnished a weather-beaten door,and what all else I don't really know. I wasn't in charge at that level. I finally get to be the vision guy and the skilled labor guy, and leave the job of coordinating to people who excel at it.

"No foolin', we grew potatoes this big when I was a kid. In the planter box outside the kitchen window. Call my mom, she'll tell you."

"So is a hole twice this size, twice as heavy?"

We dug a sort of cistern, lined it with geotextile and later filled it with rock. It'll fill with water that used to run into Karl and Nini's and saturate the soil here, helping nourish the plum and willow. Eventually we'll tap into it and feed the raised beds.

Worms can be a girl's best pet.

Aaron keeps his hands from getting crushed as Karl loads in drain rock.

I cut holes in walls. I also answered questions, but mostly I left managing to Karl and Xena. They were brilliant. I've got an air return almost all the way to the furnace. Tomorrow, heat in the downstairs!

Giles and a neighbor planted raspberries. It's fun to go wilding and forage berries in the world, but it's also fun to grow them yourself if you are lucky enough to have a strip of soil with concrete on both sides. The berries will be forced to behave. I hope.

After dinner we sat in the living room and fed anyone under twelve rootbeer floats. I took a great pic of Liz with the cat, dog, three little girls and two adults all snuggled up together, but the camera ate the picture. I remember seeing it, but now it's gone. Odd. We watched "Schooled," a well-intentioned dram-entary about Free Schools; partway through Christine exclaimed, "Now I understand Aaron!" None of us is sure what she meant by that, but we all thought it was tremendously funny.

Then to settle our own selves we watched Super Troopers.

Birthday ice cream

"Hey, what's it take to get a turn pedaling to make burnt-honey ice cream?"

"All you gotta do is ask."

"Ok, please may I do the pedaling for a while?"

I so have to get me a bike with a blending attachment. The ice cream was delicious.

Birthdays are a good moment to review your previous year. I reviewed the last few years. My life is so amazingly rich right now. Three years ago I felt trapped in suburbia, fearful of the future, discontent with my present, trapped in affluenza. Now I am deeply connected to mu friends and family through permaculture, home repair, cohousing, homeschooling, and more. The best part? I feel like the coming months are only going to get better.

Panel Discussion: InterVarsity Christian Fellowship

I had an amazing opportunity on Wednesday to be a panelist for a group of young Christians exploring the connection between environmentalism and spirituality. Young compared to me; they were college age. My co-panelists were the incomparable Kachina Katrina and the dynamic cross-country bike-campers Ryan and Mandy.

These students have been spending the summer in service at various social justice, racial reconciliation and stewardship projects around the area. I'm a pretty unique fit to talk with these kids; most of the permaculture community around here roots in the pagan/earth worship/goddess traditions, and I'm firmly in the Christ as the Way camp. You might imagine some of the fun conversations I get into with my peers! I could talk from experience about faith-based stewardship and community building.

Josh Harper is the administrator, and he's done far more work at the doctrinal level about reconciling earth care with God's Word. I've come at it from an internal direction, and we've both ended up at a real similar place. One of the questions for the panel was "Why do you care about environmentalism?"

Kachina spoke passionately about being a voice for the voiceless: the animals and the trees. Ryan spoke of growing up near open places and falling in love with them but also identifying his need for community. It took me a while to identify my story, but I finally realized that I don't care about the environment per sé. I care about harmony among people, and I've noticed that when I use more than my share, when I damage the resource stream so that someone else suffers, that I am sewing seeds of abuse and violence. And I don't want to do that, be that, live that.

The students were very welcoming and receptive, as we talked about living environmentally aware lives, socially just lives, and working to create healing where we could. They got really animated as we talked about closing the resource stream cycle; pee-pee ponics got mentioned, and it became a great tool to address many of the things going on in the world, from women who carry water 5 miles a day to fossil-fuel based nitrogen fertilizer to meditation communities to cultural standards about sanitation.

Kachina and I are already a pretty good fit as co-presenters. Her positivism is a great antidote to my angsty "Am I really doing God's Will yet?" questioning, and Ryan and Mandy had lots of liveliness and great stories. We blended so well. I know we pleased Josh. I know we inspired many of the students. I know we overwhelmed a couple of them, too, but we kept reminding them that small slow change wins out overall.

Nourished by Movie Night

Last night after the community meeting a few of us pedaled over to The Temescal Street Collective's free outdoor movie night. About 300 people were arranged on the street, the movie was projected up on the side of a bank, and the sound system was balanced for good acoustics as well as being a good neighbor to the nearby residences.

Sitting among a half-dozen of my good friends in the cooling evening, passing a bottle of wine surreptitiously between us, sharing olives and bread with brie a little less so, noticing an alternative lifestyle triad kissing each other occasionally in front of me, seeing local landmarks such as Lake Merrit and the running trails along the bay projected large, watching an inspirational account of local youth being encouraged to do something completely outside their own expectations, I was once more overwhelmed with gratitude for the amazingness of my life.

Sure, here in O-town we have some serious issues, but we are also working hard to find life-affirming solutions to those problems. Last night I got to dwell in a little bit of the heaven we are trying to build. I am restored to take on more gladly the work that is rightly mine to do.

Willow House Solstice Party

How do we party at Willow House? Very, very well.

We mix rhythms, ritual, action, activity, friends, neighbors, paint, feathers, twigs, paper, music, plants, food, drink and dirt, to create a truly special experience.

Even in the hot humid day, the space under the willow was cool and refreshing. Our smallest guests played dress-up, and made magic wands and willow and flower circlets. My wife and I took advantage of everyone's attention being elsewhere to run errands, buying some hot-weather starts such as tomatoes and peppers, and replanting one raised bed. She also seeded a new bed, with our next crop of salad.

When I went to get the keg, the man helping me was in the worst mood. My good mood seemed to threaten him, but rather than drop into his expectation, I stood my ground. In fact, I even elevated it. I allowed beams of solstice goodness to flow, and by the end of our transaction 10 long minutes later he seemed to be in a much better state. And I was high enough that I didn't remember to buy ice until after I'd loaded the keg into the car.

Solstice goodness? What's that? One thing to celebrate is the completion of a work. One might also choose to acknowledge release from something: a negative habit, a limiting belief, or an expectation. We made firestarters with herbs, twigs, scrolls we'd written our intention upon, all dipped in wax melted in the solar oven.

Nick played for us on the new stage. Karl, Betsy, Jori, Nini and a few others worked hard to get it ready for the party. It looks great, and works great. This is what people did before television stole our souls: we entertained each other, we clapped for each other, we connected with each other.

Even when I had a full time job, even when paying the bills was easier, my life was impoverished. I've never really fit into the world of suburbia. I am so thankful to have become a part of this re-villaging we are undertaking. Am I ghetto? I'm helping to draw the best parts of several worlds together. It's like... like building and living in the Shire. Except without hobbits.

Even the view from the nosebleed section is wonderful. Christine sings French opera accompanied by Jen on the accordion.

Later, much later, after the sun finally set on the longest day of the year, the grown-ups busted out their dance moves. I got to initiate the catwalk as a dance platform. I danced out all my negative energy, pouring myself into movement. I thought I must be horrifying people because (I am unselfconscious or a huge, big goof) they all stopped dancing. They got off the stage. They stared up at me. I thought maybe I'd killed the party. But as the song ended, they all burst into applause. I guess I'd only commandeered the party briefly for my own catharsis.

"That willow tree will never be the same, after the way you just danced with it," said one woman.

"Yeah, I get that response from my dance partners a lot," I told her.

Liz, on the other hand, got everybody dancing and kept them going. She did such a good job that I completely forgive her for her repeated acts of musicus interruptus.

"Liz won the party," said Karl.

Art Cars and the Rising "Participation Age"

Wandering the Maker Faire, I marveled at the radical self expression and DIY mash-up as these relate to anti-consumerism. Or rather, pro-participationsim. When, or where, did this movement start?

When did we leave behind doing for ourselves? The rise of industrialism brought with it mass-produced consumer goods. These things were, of necessity from their manufacturing process, identical. And marketers taught us this was a good thing. You could keep up with the Joneses. Television trained us to sit quietly and “consume” entertainment.

Along the way to that glowing suburban future, though, some felt disquiet in their deepest selves. Did they really want to fit into the mold? One of the most potent statements of self-recovery, available to anyone, would be to de-commodify their transportation—in short, make an art car.

Art cars have been part of the mobile art scene since at least the roaring 20s, but they really came into their own in the 80s. Part folk art, part something else, ranging from glued-on chotchkies to car bodies welded to each other, art cars and those who drive them are the instigators of this new culture of participatory public performance. The era of sitting quietly in a dark room and being “entertained,” of being a consumer of theater, art, music, or writing, is being replaced. The art car movement is especially inclusive; anyone with the courage to personalize their automobile is “in.” By making their car unique, they transform from mere consumers into participants.

Burning Man made participation one of the cornerstone principles of the event. People attending Burning Man know they aren’t going as spectators. They are co-creating the event. As people experience the power of participation at Burning Man, they become as dandelion seeds, scattering this trend out into larger and larger circles.


The shift is carrying forward into more and more venues, such as Yuri’s Night or Maker Faire. Maker Faire is as much a celebration of collaboration of the unlikely, from wool felting and LEDs to 3D printers and gray water, as it is a party being created in the moment. There are no passersby. Everyone will find their playful place, whether it’s riding a wooden bicycle, building a rocket, playing artist mini-golf, or daydreaming about what they could make for next year’s fair.

Computer-controlled, small-scale manufacturing is the “tool,” the manifested reality, born in response to our desire to do more than merely consume. We are designed to be creative. Those daring souls who converted cars into art are the progenitors of this era. Encouraging everyone to explore, to be a part-time performer, to say “no!” to adapting their souls to an inelastic conformity, ArtCar artists are the forebears of this re-birth of a participation culture.

I thank them (us!) for it.

Yuri's Night NASA Ames 2008 (#1)

I have a few fun pics about Yuri's Night. And after today's earlier, heavy post, some levity is in order. Here's the first of I hope many short posts: Caitlan is discovering the moon. The moon is certainly Zone 5.

We also looked at biofilms (and schooled the scientist a little bit about Utah's dry cyanobacteria!) and generally took in the scene. I really enjoyed spending time with Caity.

Bicycle Permaculture Tour 2008

Seven years ago I had a vision: to bring what I saw at SolFest into the urban environment, and to share it. I didn't know about permaculture at the time, there was no "sustainability" movement, and "green" meant a color of crayon (or the Green Party). The fact that I now live in a place that is part home and part demonstration space, is a testament to the power of life coaching (thank you, Nika Quirk!) and God's action in my life. On the one hand, it's been a long haul, and on the other, it's been a blink of an eye.

The day after we returned from Utah, Josh Shupack's Bicycle Permaculture Tour rolled through. Still high on vacation, I got to share Mariposa Grove and Willow House with a group of about 40 interested people. I recognized a few of them, but mostly it was new faces. They'd already been to a half-dozen projects, but there was still excitement (or perhaps that special, spiritual glow people get when they see that the future might not be so grim as the doomsayers want us to believe?) in their faces and questions.

Hank and I fielded questions at the start. I really like talking to people who have pierced the veil of our over-consumptive, pre-packaged society and are eager for the kinds of solutions that will become part of our lives within the next five to twenty years.

"Why are your raised beds different heights?" asks one person.

"Because one of the unnatural aspects of suburban design is that the developer comes through and levels the place and then plops boxes on top of that. Natural places are full of elevation change. Even Walt Disney knew this, and designed small rolling paths throughout DisneyLand. "

"It looks nice."

"Well, sure, because it's more natural and more familiar with the landscape cues embedded in our genes."

Questions came fast: "How well do you get along with your neighbors? Where are your bees? Is your gray water system hooked up? How does the rain catchment work? Is that an electric car? What's guild planting?"

Aaron, Jori and Caitlan pitched in and helped as everyone divided up into smaller groups. Jori scared a few people as he opened up the vegie-oil bus. I guess they weren't expecting him to pop out as they were peering in. Caitlan showed off the herbs garden planted all over the deck. Some people got to look at Aaron's vegie-oil settling system. Others toured the common house and asked questions about the differing economic models between the adjoining properties. I talked about physical systems and some of the integration among those, Hank talked about the social aspects. We touched on small, slow change, problem as the solution, and earth care. I suppose at the background of much of the discussion was people care and and fair share, but I don't think we got explicit about those. Several of the cyclists were clearly reluctant to leave, but they eventually all went on, some home, some to the next stop on the tour.

"Why do you think people were so interested in this?" I asked Hank, waving my hands to indicate our homes. To me, this looks like a barely begun patch of potential paradise, hardly warranting the joyful response we received.

"They'd seen a few places already, true, but I think they saw something unique, here," he said. "We have several people working on different parts of sustainability and community. I think that's the exciting part, for people who come here: they see something that's more diverse than any one person's vision can be."

That's something we certainly do have, here: a diversity of ideas and practices, of concerns and abilities. In all my years' worth of notes about building up a demonstration project, this is an aspect that I'd assigned to a far future project: having it be village-like. What a wonderful, unsuspected surprise for me, to have leapfrogged the singleton effort and landed in community.

Here's KRON4's newsclip of the show

Permaculture Tour

Saturday, I toured the properties of two of the giants in the permaculture world. James Stark and Penny Livingston Stark brought these ideas over from Australia and have been working their land in the Marin Headlands and training teachers since the 1980s. All through my classes, and as I visit other permaculture sites, everyone I meet who is doing this work speaks reverently of their time with Penny. I have to admit, I was a bit jealous. Would I ever catch up with this internationally renowned teacher?

That's Penny in the photo above, standing over the fire pit. I'm thrilled to have met her, and to listen to her. I've met other teachers like her, who treat knowledge not as a possession, but as an entity unto itself, and it is their privilege to share it with us. I know her deeper message of celebrating all the good work people everywhere are doing got into me, because:

Sunday night at church, our newly formed "Green Team" (organized entirely without my involvement) announced "Bike to Church Day." Caitlan turned to me and whispered, "Oh, I'm sorry Mister Man, you're not extreme anymore."

"Caitlan," I whispered back, "that's a good thing. The world won't get saved if I'm the only one doing the saving."

"Ripe for Change" at Alameda Marketplace

Oh baby, you missed it.

This had to have been the coolest event I've been to in a year. Film producer Jed Riffe brought Emiko Omori's film "Ripe for Change" to Alameda Marketplace where perhaps 150 people braved the cooling night to watch the story of the intersection of food and politics in California over the past 30 years. Jed and Emiko were there, as was Dru Rivers of the CSA Full Belly Farms.

What really made this a great event for me is this: the lines of connection between our society's members were very short, Friday night. In one venue, we had growers, distributers, consumers, policy makers, activists and documentors. There were people who walked, rode a bike, drove their electric car, or believe that peak oil is a myth. There were people who are taking on Mansanto, and those tilting at the menace of leaf blowers. We all ate the same dinner of local vegies, we all grew uncomfortable as the sun set, we all wondered if we could score extra servings of Straus Family ice cream.

Maybe this is how Raider's fans feel if they get to take the field with their team. I know I felt that an abundant, prosperous future full of great food, social equity, and peace for all human beings is a real possibility.