Wander My Path

Lately, I dream of a time when we live in cottages, tucked into the landscape, where life is simpler, and our work is shaped by the earth around us. In this world, we gather together, not only to share meals but to share the work, the stories, and the quiet moments between. The rhythm of our days would follow the natural flow of seasons. planting, hunting, gathering—each step an act of connection, not just to the land, but to each other. Imagine walking the path to the forest, gathering food for the evening meal, feeling the ground beneath your feet, knowing that the earth provides for you and that your work contributes to the well being of the whole community. There’s a sense of belonging in that kind of life, a bond not just to the people you know, but to the world that sustains you. In a life like this, there’s no rush to be somewhere else, no constant pressure to achieve more. Instead, time slows down, and the simple act of being—together, in nature, in purpose—becomes enough. The fire burns not just to warm the body but to kindle connection and belonging. The quiet sounds of the world: The wind through trees, the crackle of a fire, the murmur of voices would be all the music we need. This longing comes from a deep place, a desire to reconnect with something real, something rooted in community, in the earth, in simplicity, where we don’t just survive but thrive together. I long for a life where we are not separated by walls, but where the walls are made of the trust and connection we build with each other and the land we share.