I’ve been thinking a lot about what I can actually do with my time on this planet. Not in a broad, idealistic way, but in a practical, day-to-day sense. The world’s problems—climate change, species extinction, the insane fragility of our global systems—feel insurmountable when I look at them head-on. It’s like staring at a tidal wave, knowing there’s no way to stop it.
But maybe I don’t have to stop it. Maybe I just have to focus on my little corner of the world. Maybe the best way to make a difference is to stay small, live local, and invest my energy into what’s immediately around me.
Living local feels like a quiet sort of rebellion and the opposite of inaction, which feels good. Just doing the right things. Growing food here, where I live. Supporting small farmers and businesses nearby. Building relationships with people I see regularly instead of faceless systems that don’t care about me or this place.
It’s easy to get caught up in the enormity of the global economy. Everything is about scale—bigger supply chains, faster shipping, more stuff. But all of that growth comes at a cost: fossil fuels burned, ecosystems leveled, people exploited. The further I zoom out, the more disconnected and extractive it all feels.
Living local feels like the antidote. Not fighting the system, just stepping outside of it. I can’t stop the world from overproducing, overpolluting, or overextracting, but I can choose not to participate as much. I can choose to feed money, time, and energy into systems that regenerate instead of destroy.
And it’s better for me. Buying food grown nearby is fresher, healthier, and more satisfying than something trucked in from 1,500 miles away. Riding my bike instead of driving clears my head. Knowing the people who grow my food or run the coffee shop makes this place feel like home.
When I think about the future—about Aldo growing up—I want to believe I’m doing something meaningful. I don’t want him to inherit a world where everything feels brittle and detached. I want him to know what it feels like to dig his hands into the dirt, to eat food from the land where he lives, to know the names of his neighbors and the plants that grow here.
Living local feels like building something real. Not just a farm, but a way of life. It’s not flashy or world-saving in the dramatic sense, but maybe that’s the point. The world doesn’t need more heroics or innovation. It needs people to stop chasing bigger, faster, more—and start focusing on the small, slow, steady work of caring for their own corner of the earth
It’s not about solving everything. It’s about tending to this piece of the world, this moment in time, and trusting that it matters.
I think that’s enough.