“There are few things more pathetic than those who have lost their curiosity and sense of adventure, and who no longer care to learn.” 

Curiosity and sense of adventure are the two itches that make us create and travel, and that feed our desire to learn.   

In the beginning, we relied on formal institutions for this, but realized early on that it was not the system for us.  We carried that discovery into parenthood, and raised the boy with our wits and instincts, the way an artist creates through their craft. 

We continued a path of learning that we ourselves made to build things. Things not needed by the robots, but needed by the creatives. In this phase, we built for ourselves but for others more so, out of priority to feed the family.

And now, the boy is on his way, and our intentionality has created a financial stability that is “enough.”  

“I can tell y’all are simple people.”

Comparison is the thief of joy, but it can also be telling.  Having enough is the goal of the masses – enough to retire from the daily misery of existence. I see in us not the mentality of the masses, but one shaped by independence, rebellion, and a courage to carve our own story.  We have never endured a daily misery of existence, so we are not ready to be done with our lives.  

This is not that day, at least not for us.

This is the day to give in to that sprouting curiosity and to start a new adventure, for ourselves.

“An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day!”

This is the day we begin to detach from the need to build for others, and instead, respond to the murmurs inside.  What do we want? We cannot clearly say in any detail, other than to scratch the itch to create and build and discover.  Just as we have been since our beginning.

Unlike the “enough” of our economics, the current setup is not ample.  It doesn’t outfit us for our new path.  We have organically strayed, gradually distancing ourselves from the old path until soon, we will find ourselves in a new world.  I believe this is our density.  I mean. Our destiny.

This is one reason we look outwards, especially from Kerrville.  Travel is the skeleton key of learning and living.  But are we really so simple?  Our need for travel is matched by a need for a home base – to garden and tinker and punt the cat like a football. A perfect parabola. 

Consider our current setup.  It is for planting, for raising a child, for building for others, and it does not suit either of us.  We can make anything work, but why settle for what’s laying around when a better setup is out there for our new path.  We should change our environment, update the tuning fork, and stop fucking around.

“Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.  For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.  And stand together yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

The brewery and, to a lesser extent, Trailhead are both printers of money.  And although they are mostly tooled to produce for others, the process of running them still does feed my own creative spirit. 10%, maybe.  10% and printed cheese is pretty good – let’s keep that goose honking.

But let’s shift some of the 90% to things that serve us better.  Let’s move the 10/90 needle to 20/80, 50/50, 10/90.  Let’s follow the curiosity and start a new adventure.  Not in a midlife crisis kind of way, because the masses we are not, but in our authentic true way.  Let’s build something for ourselves.

We are different people - pillars of a temple, an Oak and a Cypress, and so forth.  It is ok to create distinct but united spaces for each other.  We operate at a different pace and employ different styles.  Our setups are different.  

It is ok to divide and conquer then join back up and celebrate each other’s victories.  We already do this well.  In fact, Kahlil stole that shit from us.

Our current setup is no longer proper, for either of us.  Let us make it proper.  We can do it at the farm, we can do it at the cabin, or we can do it somewhere else.  But let’s do it. 

“It’s crucial to have a setup, so that, at any given moment, when you get an idea, you have the place and the tools to make it happen.”

Let’s do it.  We’ve never made a wrong choice. We keep the gooses and build some jumpers in each of the machines to replace certain lever pulling from me. This will take time, but it can happen in synchroneity with the path variance.  

Let’s build setups for our own independent styles.  Nothing blocks us, we’ve assembled all the required resources, we are primed and ready.  

If we choose the farm, then it looks something like this:

·  Sell the cabin.

·  Replace the windows, siding, and paint.

·  Fix the doors.

·  Build a pool.

·  Build a pool studio.

·  Rebuild the barnyard and a barn studio.

·  Hire out part-time farmhands and make that shit git.

If we choose the cabin, then it looks something like this:

·  Sell the farm.

·  Build a pool.

·  Build a den studio.

·  Build a carport/workshop by the barn.

If we choose somewhere else, then it looks like I have no idea.

I understand that selling either place is hard, but so is all important detachments.  From where I sit, it’s the way.  I can imagine a squishy compromise that includes renting out both and living in the airstream, but it doesn’t feel like a complete and proper response to what the spirit is telling us.  

It might be against by Oak nature, but it is very much tuned with your Cypress ways – we can detach slowly.  

If we sell the farm, we have time and resources to figure out, or at least try, a proper setup for the cabin den studio while we build the carport/workshop and pool.  

I do not think an interior design consultant is either Oak or Cypress-style, but I do know you have it in you to figure out a design that will work well. I think keeping it as simple as it gets is the way.  You can do it.