The Village My Children Deserve

There was a time when I thought independence was the goal.

Build your own house. Solve your own problems. Raise your own family. Work hard enough and eventually you'll create the life you want.

But somewhere along the way I realised that while independence has its place, what I was actually longing for was connection.

Not more social media. Not more networking.

Real connection.

The kind where your children grow up knowing many trusted adults. Where meals are shared. Where skills are exchanged around a fire. Where someone notices when you're struggling and checks in. Where the burden of life isn't carried by one or two people but by a web of relationships.

A village.

Not the romantic idea of one.

A real one.

The kind where disagreements happen. Where people have different opinions. Where personalities clash. Where growth is uncomfortable at times.

And yet people stay at the table and keep learning.

That's one of the things I appreciate most about life here. We aren't trying to create perfection. We're learning how to create belonging.

For me, a good day is often surprisingly simple.

Building something useful.

Chopping wood.

Swimming in the creek with the young ones.

Feeding animals.

Sitting around the fire.

Sharing stories.

Watching an idea become real through many hands.

Recently we completed a community kitchen that began as an idea and slowly became a shared reality. Projects like that remind me that villages aren't built through vision alone. They're built through action. Through showing up. Through small contributions made consistently over time.

I've spent much of my life making things.

Art.

Surfboards.

Buildings.

Repairs.

Designs.

3D printed creations.

But what interests me most these days isn't the things themselves.

It's the spaces they create.

A workshop becomes a place where skills are shared.

A kitchen becomes a place where people gather.

A fire circle becomes a place where stories are remembered.

A village becomes a place where children feel held by something larger than their immediate family.

That's the future I'm interested in creating.

A life where our young people grow up knowing community is possible.

A life where creativity is encouraged.

A life where people are valued not for what they produce, but for who they are.

We're still building it.

Some days with timber and tools.

Some days with conversations and cups of tea.

Some days through mistakes and learning.

But piece by piece, relationship by relationship, the village is emerging.

And I can't think of anything more worthwhile to build.