Hemingway described bankruptcy happening two ways: gradually, then all at once.

The same could be said of losing ourselves.

We didn’t notice it happening.

We moved our work and our friendships and our entertainment into little glowing rectangles, and the world got faster and louder and somehow emptier. We scrolled through cartoons of life and called it staying connected.

You already know this. You’ve felt it.

There is a place in East Tennessee that has been here long enough to remember something we’ve forgotten.

The smell of a real fire. The weight of a tool that fits your hand. That particular exhaustion and simple joy that comes from a day spent doing something that mattered.