I Have a Dream

Dear Friend,

I hope you've been enjoying the summer. Here in the Berkshires, we've been having one of those magical stretches of cool mornings and warm afternoons that remind me why people have been coming here for the summer for generations. It has been especially restorative after what felt like an unusually long and harsh winter.

Fourth of July parade, Spencertown, Ny. It was pretty hot that day, unlike the rest of the summer!

Lately I've been spending a lot of time thinking about dreams—my dream for Modern Shaker Homes and, more broadly, my dream for the kind of life I hope we can help create.

When I was growing up, my dreams were incredibly ambitious and centered on my career and how I would impact the world through it. I wanted to be on the Supreme Court... until I took a Supreme Court class in law school and realized that the world of politics wasn't nearly as appealing as I'd imagined - ha!

And even before that, in my very first week of law school, 9/11 happened. Strangely, that tragedy clarified something for me: more than a prestigious career, what I really wanted was a family. (Baby Jordan was born less than a year later!)

Then in 2005, I felt as though all my dreams for a life out in the wide world had come to an end when God made it unmistakably clear that He wanted me to stay home with our two little girls.

After the identity crisis and grief over what felt like the death of an important dream, something surprising happened: in the hidden life I was living, a secret dream began to emerge.

Without the pressures of producing income or climbing the corporate ladder, I found a new freedom to listen to my heart in a way I hadn't since I was a child (especially during the years I was homeschooled). What had initially felt like a demotion, I gradually came to see as an extraordinary privilege.

Life was certainly harder than law school—I was completely new to homemaking and the constant demands of caring for young children—but I also discovered something I hadn't expected: the freedom to think.

Young Mother and Two Children (1908), Mary Cassatt.

Can I share my current dream with you? It's been quietly growing for more than twenty years.

At first, it was simply remembering how much I'd always loved houses. Even after developing that grand political dream at nine years old, I still spent most of my time drawing the big, fancy house I hoped to live in someday (and inventing the perfect names for all my future children!).

Then I realized I didn't just love houses—I loved old houses. I became fascinated by the way homes shape daily life, and that curiosity naturally led me into studying permaculture and the relationship between people and the land around them.

Because I have a weakness for old-fashioned things, I eventually decided I needed to learn how to raise animals too. That led to our homesteading adventure with sheep, pigs, chickens, and rabbits.

If there was one big lesson I learned from those years, it was this: I need other people.

Self-sufficiency isn't something I think I can do—or even want to do. So now I'm dreaming of creating a village …

Hillside Cottage (1889), Helen Allingham.

My village is filled with beautiful, just-right-sized wooden cottages. (It turns out that after finally living in a large house, I've discovered I'd much rather spend my time living than cleaning.)

Each home has large windows overlooking a little garden and patio. The cottages sit close enough together that neighbors naturally bump into one another throughout the day. Children wander from yard to yard. Older neighbors know everyone's names. There are young families, older couples, single people, and everyone in between.

At the heart of the village is a green where children play while adults linger in conversation. Around it are the gathering places that knit a community together: a dining hall, library, coffee shop, chapel, dance hall, workshop for tinkerers, community garden, little farm, and orchards.

I'd even love there to be a Modern Shaker school—perhaps something that blends the best of Waldorf and Charlotte Mason. (Jordan has talked for years about starting a school someday. Maybe this will be it!)

Ideally, the village sits close enough to both a city and the countryside that you can enjoy the best of each. And, of course, I’d want someone visiting for the first time to assume it had always been there. (Mickey says maybe the harder part will be finding the right people. :)

School Is Out (1889), Elizabeth Forbes.

I've occasionally been accused by more pragmatic types of caring too much about "lifestyle." Guilty. We only get one life. Why not make it as beautiful, rich, and enjoyable as we possibly can—not just for ourselves, but for the people around us?

Maybe none of this will happen exactly the way I imagine it. But I've learned that dreams have a funny way of changing us long before they ever come true.

Twenty-five years ago, I thought my dream was a seat on the Supreme Court. Today, I'd be just as happy helping build one beautiful village.

Until next time,

xo Elisa

P.S. Does this sound like somewhere you’d like to live? Do you know of places already like this? Do share!