The Social Porcupine

  Young women, What do you wish your grandmother taught you?  I know many of you were raised with traditional values and have the desire to run a pleasant, blessed home. . . but have no idea how to begin. Perhaps cleaning your room is overwhelming enough, let alone envisioning yourself ever sewing, mending, cooking, embroidering. You want to be a capable, diligent woman, someone who makes others feel comfortable.  You know you are meant to repair that emergency tear with thread, herb, or handkerchief.  And you are right.  This is why I'm opening my home up in Montana this summer as The Living Room Academy .  You have the extraordinary opportunity of learning how to keep a home cozy and wholesome. For two weeks you will be living with me in my Montana home and following me throughout my everyday activities. We will cook and clean and sew and knit and embroider. In the afternoons we will take walks in the mountains, and before bed we will gather to read and talk and do something ligh

My readers, acquaintances, and stalkers see the things I accomplish. I, alongside the comfort of my own shadow, know of my distractions and my tendency to focus on the wrong tasks, always a little behind on the priorities, or rather prioritizing things in a haphazard manner.  Some see me as  competitive. Today I make a confession. I am not competitive. I do not do things to compete. I don't bother with comparing myself to others; I have little envy for another's life. I am happy and content, and while someone might inspire me, that inspiration does not lead me toward lust but growth .  Years ago, some strange soul that knew me quite well rightly judged me as having no ambition. To this person  that  was a taboo personality defect in myself.  For a time, I cared. I tried out ambition... and found myself reverting to the old, simple delights of my life. Sure, there is a dedication to my work that appears jarringly like competition. . . but appearances, as we all know, lack the re

It's sometimes hard to differentiate between what's wise and what's rash. It felt like a rash decision to apply for the work study at John C. Campbell at the end of last summer. I dreaded being accepted and felt sick as I left Montana to begin a five-month road trip.  I felt sick because I was doing something very hard, I was forcing myself to vomit illusions, and I was force feeding my dreams back into my heart, a shrunken scared dry thing for a beating box of visions. I was letting go of something I loved to pursue what I wanted: happiness and satisfaction. I let go of the soft hands of confusion and jumped into the wells of living waters, where many unknown, open arms awaited. Of course, I felt sick.  And of course, I healed. I'd been on the road two months before I received my acceptance email. I sat outside a bar on top of a picnic table, barefoot and playing my guitar when I happened to glance at my phone and saw the acceptance email.  I'd dreaded this... And