A Letter to My Children: Why I Stopped Being Quiet

To my kids,

I’m writing this because I want you to understand why our life looks a little different to everyone else’s. I want you to know why your mum has finally decided to say the things I’ve been talking about in private company for years, out loud and online, where everyone can hear them.

For a long time, I worried about what people would think of me. I didn’t want to be the crazy lady at the supermarket or the one people stopped inviting to dinner because I wouldn’t stop talking about how the world is changing. But I’ve reached a point where I don't care about being liked or being normal. I care about being ready.

The truth is, the way the world has worked for the last fifty plus years, where you could buy anything you wanted, at any time and things just kept getting easier, is ending. We are heading into a shift in how we live that is bigger than anything we have ever seen.

I see it when I look at our bank accounts and our grocery bills. I see it when I look at how fragile the systems are that bring us our food and our power. It’s like the world is a big machine that has been running too fast for too long, and now the parts are starting to break. People call it a crisis, but I think it’s just how things are now.

Why We Live the Way We Do

Every choice I make on our patch of land is a strategic one. When I spend my energy making sure we can grow enough food to feed us all year, it isn't a hobby. It’s our security. I am building a living piggy bank in our soil and our animals so that no matter what happens to the money in the bank, we still have something real to eat.

You might notice that our car isn't shiny or new. It has its fair share of dents and it’s definitely not computerised like the ones our neighbours drive. That is a choice. If our car breaks down, we can fix it right here in the driveway with a set of tools. We don’t need a fancy computer or a specialist to tell us what’s wrong. In a world where things are getting harder to find and more expensive to fix, being able to do it ourselves is a superpower.

I am also spending a lot of my time building The Resilience Village. I do this because I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want you to be alone either. I know there are hundreds of other families who feel the same way I do. We are finding each other, sharing our skills, and making sure that when things get tough, we have people to turn to. History shows us that people who work together survive much better than people who try to hide in a hole by themselves.

The Hard Truth

I have to be careful how much I say to people. If someone isn’t ready to hear it, talking about how the world is breaking can cause a panic that they can't get out of. I don’t want to make people anxious; I want to make them capable.

Let’s be very clear about one thing: life is going to become hard. Not just "a little bit expensive" hard, but hard in the extreme. The systems we rely on are going to continue to fail. There will be times when we feel the squeeze in ways that are scary.

But I am not telling you this to frighten you. I am telling you this because I want to equip you. I want you to have the skills to grow a meal, to fix a fence, and to know how to be a good neighbour. These are the things that will matter when the "shiny" world finally stops working.

Our Resilience Operating System

I’ve decided to put all my focus into what I call the Resilience Operating System. It’s just a fancy way of saying we are changing how we live so we don't depend on big companies or the government for our basic needs. We are reclaiming our power. You'll find this system manual that I designed in my desk draw, there for you, anytime you need to know what to do next.

I might never get around to writing that book I always talked about, so consider this publication my way of leaving you a map. It’s my opportunity to say what I think about the world as it stands today. I want you to look back at this and know that your mum saw what was coming and she did everything she could to make sure you were okay.

I know I’m not the only one who thinks this way. There is a whole community of us now, breaking together into a new way of living that is slower, harder, but much more honest. We are returning to the land and to each other.

So, when you see me out there in the garden in my green hat, or when I’m up late writing these reports, know that it’s all for you. We have work to do my love, and we’re going to do it together.

Love,

Mum.