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The Heart of It All

RR1: Why I Chose This Life


And Why You Might Too | Rooted & Resilient

Introduction

There are moments in life when you feel something shift—a quiet internal knowing that says, This isn’t the way it has to be.

That moment came for me after the pandemic in 2020. I was approaching my 30s, looking at the world we had built around us, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were living within a system designed to keep us dependent. Every part of modern life—our food supply, our healthcare, our pace, our structure—required us to participate in something that didn’t feel safe, sustainable, or sovereign. If you’re interested in more information on systems that keep us dependent, see the references below.¹

Something deep inside me screamed: It shouldn’t be this way. That was the beginning of why I chose the homesteading life—a decision to step away from dependency and toward resilience, sovereignty, and self-sufficiency.

So I decided to listen.


The Call to Grow Something Real

Fallen tree trunk covered in green moss in a forest, symbolizing resilience, renewal, and the cycles of nature.
Even in what seems like an ending, resilience brings new life.

I wanted to grow my life from the ground up—literally. I didn’t want to outsource my survival. I wanted to take responsibility for my food, my shelter, my family’s well-being. And more than anything, I wanted to create a life of true freedom and purpose.1

That’s what led us to begin building our homestead. Not just as a place to live—but as a way to live. At its heart, this is why I chose the homesteading life, because it gave me a way to reclaim purpose and sovereignty.


The Deeper Purpose: My Son

Motherhood sharpened this vision even further. My son is a huge part of my “why.”

I want him to have cleaner air. Real food. True nourishment—internally and externally. I want him to feel secure because of what I’ve provided with my own two hands, not because of a system that could fall apart in an instant.

But beyond that, I want him to carry the lessons that most people forget to teach:

  • To respect nature
  • To live life magically and curiously
  • To question every system that tries to limit his freedom
  • To know he is capable of anything

I hope he remembers how much intention we put into everything: our food, our animals, our water, our shelter. I want him to feel gratitude as his baseline. Because if he can carry that into the future, I know I’ve done something right.2


What I Had to Leave Behind

To build something new, I had to let go of a lot:

  • Generational patterns of sacrifice without purpose
  • Societal expectations of what a “successful” life looks like
  • The pressure to stay small so others don’t feel uncomfortable
  • The “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts” that echo through mainstream culture

The most liberating thing I’ve done is stop giving away my autonomy. I don’t belong to a system anymore—I belong to the land, to my family, to my values.

Bird soaring in front of a waterfall with a rainbow, symbolizing freedom, release, resilience, and the roots of homesteading life.
Sometimes resilience means letting go — finding freedom in what we leave behind. Image by XINGCHEN XIAO from Pixabay

The Unexpected Joy of Freedom

What I didn’t expect? The joy. The realness. The freedom I now feel because I’m investing in something that’s truly mine.

This life may be hard—but it is deeply, undeniably true.

I wake up every day with purpose because I know I’ve listened to the signs that led me here. And I want others to feel this too. This isn’t a fantasy or a luxury. It’s real. It’s attainable. And it’s worth every ounce of effort.

Father teaching child how to repair a red ATV under a wooden shelter, showing why I chose the homesteading life and the roots of resilience.
Passing on knowledge is at the heart of why I chose the homesteading life — small shifts that grow into resilience for the next generation.

The Everyday Sacred

My favorite moments aren’t always big. They’re found in the little rituals:

  • Feeding the animals with love and care
  • Planting seeds with my son and watching him see magic unfold
  • Walking the land with intention, knowing it holds the future we are building

Every animal I care for, every crop I tend, every inch of soil we steward—these are not chores. They are acts of love. This is my life’s work, and my life’s offering.


What I Wish You Knew

Starting this journey was terrifying. There’s no manual. No one-size-fits-all. The transition from city life to a sustainable homestead is messy and nonlinear—but it is possible, and it’s central to why I chose the homesteading life in the first place.3

Television dramatizes it. Social media oversimplifies it. But the truth is: it’s a slow, powerful, gritty, beautiful transformation. The process is incremental and sometimes heartbreaking—but the payoff is exponential.

You’ll cry and celebrate in the same breath. But I promise you: you can do this.


What This Has Taught Me

I have learned that I can do anything.

Not in some motivational-poster way, but in a real, grounded way. I’ve proven it again and again by stepping toward this life and watching it unfold. Getting the land. Starting from scratch. Writing this very blog—each step reminding me of why I chose the homesteading life and why I’ll keep choosing it every day.

I am stronger than I ever thought possible. And I’m still learning. Still growing. Still figuring it out. And that’s okay.4


To the Stranger on the Side of the Road

I’m writing this for you.

You feel the ache. You want to make a change. You know something’s not right—but you’re scared to move forward.

Let me tell you something: Fear is part of the path. It always shows up when something important is about to begin.

You don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t have to know every step. But you do have to trust the call inside you.

Because that call? That’s the start of your real life.

Close-up of a dandelion with sunlight shining through its seeds at sunset, symbolizing renewal, release, hope, and the roots of resilience.
Resilience often looks like letting go — each seed carrying the promise of new beginnings.

What I Want You to Feel

I want you to feel hope. I want you to feel relief. I want you to feel excitement.

But more than anything, I want you to begin asking questions—about your food, your land, your systems, your freedom. I want you to get curious again.

Whether you become a client of ours, an advocate for permaculture, or simply someone who walks away more awake than they were before, I am glad you’re here.

This is just the beginning.


  1. Generational Patters & Freedom: Charles Eisenstein, The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible (2013), and more focused on personal growth is Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection (2010). ↩︎
  2. Parenting and Teaching Values: Harvard Center on the Developing Child: Resilience Resources and Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods (2005) ↩︎
  3. Peer-Reviewed Research on the subject(s): Resilience in Sustainable Food Systems (Journal of Agriculture, Food Systems, and Community Development, multiple articles). ↩︎
  4. Read more on reinforcing gratitude, intention and respect for nature with: Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass (2013) ↩︎
Until next time, keep planting small roots of resilience — they’ll grow farther than you can imagine. Don’t forget to share your journey in the comments and pass this post along to someone who could use it today.

Rooted & Resilient

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