Look around at the stories we’re told about the future—on television, in movies, in books. Almost all of them are dystopian. Controlled cities, collapsing ecosystems, machines overtaking humans. Positive visions are so rare they feel almost radical. What if that’s not accidental? What if our thoughts, speech, beliefs, and actions—all of which shape the reality we live in—are being coached toward imagining collapse? When we are constantly fed visions of destruction, it narrows the scope of what we think is possible. And when we can’t imagine anything beyond dystopia, we stop building toward anything better.
When I first understood the power of regenerative agriculture, something shifted. For the first time in years, I felt genuine hope. That hope was strong enough to push me to change my entire life. I left behind comfort and convenience and stepped into farming. It did not happen overnight, and I had no idea how difficult it would be. But here I am, living a life for a better future for my children—and doing it publicly so others can see it’s possible.
We do not have to allow our food supply to be consolidated into the hands of a few corporations. We do not have to be corralled into “15-minute cities” or plugged into machines. And we do not have to worship efficiency when it leaves us with less family, higher costs, and no time. We can choose another path. But it starts with refusing to accept the stories of inevitable collapse we are being sold.
At my ranch, guests come to spend the night in one of our tiny homes, to enjoy a meal at the restaurant, or to walk the land with me on a farm tour. They look out on fields teeming with life in ways most modern farms are not. They see animals, soil, and people in right relationship. They taste food that was grown a few steps away, and they begin to understand the difference. They carry that vision home with them—the ripple effect of realizing something else is possible. That is why I invite people to stop rehearsing dystopia and start imagining futures of abundance. A future where the American farm is restored. Where our soil and water are alive and clean. Where our food system nourishes our bodies instead of depleting them.
I see movies like “The Terminator” as a warning—but a warning nobody is heeding. Instead of paying attention, we rush to connect our minds to chips and automate every corner of life, pretending those stories were just fiction. And efficiency, which is constantly sold to us as salvation, has become its own trap. In a world where everything is more efficient than ever before, why are we busier, more stressed, and stretched thinner than ever—like rats in a wheel just trying to pay the bills? Shouldn’t efficiency bring costs down and free up more of our time? Instead, the opposite has happened. As machines and systems become more efficient, human life becomes more expensive. Families have less time together. Children are raised by screens. People are burned out, isolated, and exhausted. Efficiency without wisdom doesn’t free us; it enslaves us.
The question people always ask is, how do we do this? How do we actually build a different future? There is no single answer. But every one of us has the opportunity to co-create that future and take steps toward it. And all of those small steps, combined, can create a grand shift. Some will buy land and return to an agrarian lifestyle. Others will commit to buying only from local farms and eating the “small farm diet.” Some will use their influence to shift culture in that direction. Others will use their money to help entrepreneurs start businesses that move the needle. Every action has a reaction. Every reaction has a ripple effect. And we the people have the power—if we wield it with our dollars, with our minds, and with our words.
It is time to remember who we are—not controllers of the Earth, and not cogs in a machine, but caretakers of a garden. We can choose a future that is abundant, human, and aligned with nature. Not a dystopia, but something more like the Garden of Eden. Let’s stop merely imagining futures of abundance—and start building them together.
