lystn

Working around the homestead gives you a lot of time to think about the simple life. And in my deep thoughts 'round the farm, I've realized that modern homesteaders have created a bit of a problem. See, we've monetized the concept of simplicity. You guys, we're selling the simple life. We're marketing it. We're dressing it up, giving it a cute label with a nice font, and putting it out there for everyone to see. And buy. We've given the simple life a website and a podcast and a few hundred Instagram hashtags. We've made it popular on Pinterest and YouTube and we've created reality television around it.  We've turned the simple life into an infomercial where for five easy payments of 19.95, you too can learn what it takes to live more simply. We've got courses and ebooks and membership sites. People want to know what we do and how we live and we've got way more places and platforms to share it on than we actually have time to spend sharing. Somewhere along the line money and fame and popularity and importance got involved, and we messed up the whole thing. (Don't want to read all the words? This blog post is also a podcast—just press the triangle play button on the little black bar at the top of this post!) The simple life isn't easy. And that's why it works. It goes without saying that the simple life isn't easy. It's hard work. In fact, I believe that's actually one of the main reasons the simple life is simple. People are so busy with their hands, with the day to day effort involved in running a home or a farm, that they don't have time or energy to involve themselves in the drama of modern life—or anything they don't need to get involved in. Modern homesteading puts a weird new spin on all of that. We want to keep ourselves busy with homesteading and simplicity and hard work— kind of like great-grandma did—and then we also have the internet, a huge platform to share what we know. A huge platform to learn from and showcase our life. A huge platform to get muddled up in, forget why we're doing what we're doing, and lose our way. In all honesty, it's weird to talk about this. In fact, I almost feel like a hypocrite because, hi, my name is Amy and I run a decently successful homestead blog. People come to me for advice and suggestions about homesteading and simplicity and frugality—and I love that they do! I'm happy to share. I've got a podcast. I've written books. I'm doin' the things. That's the thing about the internet—it's great for sharing knowledge. It's great for learning homesteading skills you don't yet have. Without it, I would have never been brave enough to learn to can spaghetti sauce. The internet is also great for connecting with people who are interested in the same simple life that you're trying to attain. But I think there is a fine line between all of that...and missing the point. The root. The why for what we're doing. It happens. I've talked to many homestead bloggers who say that sometimes they are so busy writing or teaching or speaking that they don't have time to *do* the things they are writing or teaching or speaking about. Putting the simple life out there for people to see can be tricky When you turn your passion into something you put out there—especially if you somehow turn it into your job—you have to be very careful about the line you walk. And while I do believe we all have the responsibility to teach others what we know—because that's how these skills continue to exist—you have to be very careful where that takes you. I mean, if you don't take a picture of the pie you baked, did you even really bake it? If you don't post online about the issues you had in the barn this morning, did they really even happen? For many of us, I think that's the point we've arrived at. In the quest to document and share the life we live, we sometimes complicate a really simple thing. It's one thing to allow people to live vicariously through your homesteading ...