We have been SO lucky. I’ve had lots of lovely messages from friends, family and people I hardly know, encouraging me and my family during this time of transition. Of course I worried about what others would think… mainly because I have been afraid to lose my connection with people who I lean on with all my heart. But instead, I have found people reaching out. Even things like my dad saying to AJ and Lucy, “I couldn’t be happier that you kids are going to school in Centennial.” They feel that support. I feel that support. And I’m incredibly grateful.
This is bigger than moving our family to a new home or running a business. This way of life that we are choosing is about creating something different and living the full experience. And even in the middle of a power outage or a temper tantrum or my panic about how I’m going to have a career as a clinical therapist in the middle of nowhere, there is an underlying current of perspective (I almost wrote “an underlying current of peace” but that just feels unbelievable, even though it is also certainly true). A slower pace has created either an abundance of time or a lack of necessity or crisis. And I’m not sure I care which one it is, because the result is the same. The result is space. Room to breathe.
There are SO MANY parallels between what we are doing and what we believe. Between raising honest food and leading an honest life. Between nurturing and nourishing animals from birth, only to harvest them to have them nourish us. Between shoveling shit out of pens and shedding the shit in our lives that we are carrying around. Between the beginning and the end. I never want to lose sight of that or stop talking about it with my kids and my husband or feeling it or living it.
And now we are putting ourselves out there and I feel vulnerable again. Which is part of this journey, too. We have an opportunity to share our way of life with others and connect people to their roots, to their food. We are asking people to invest in our vision with our Kickstarter campaign. Because community supported agriculture doesn’t exist without a community. And we can’t hold this sacred space without the literal SPACE to do that.
Maybe people will get sick of me. Maybe I will run out of things to say. Maybe it cheapens it to share our vision and make it not only a viable life, but an abundant one. And we have to balance all of that. But for us, this is a choice we are making with intention and courage. And that is a life worth living.