Why I'm building 

When my kids were younger, I used to take them to a corn maze.

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The first year, they took off running. They moved randomly and frantically, trying to get from one end of the maze to the other as quickly as possible. There was no rhyme, reason or logic to what they were doing. They were simply running and hoping they would eventually find the exit.

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The next year, I gave them a map.

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They looked at it, but they did not really understand how to use it. To them, it was just another piece of paper they were carrying through the maze.

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By the third year, I decided to lead the pack. I showed them how to orient the map so that it matched the direction we were facing. I showed them how to look at where we were, understand where we wanted to go and make thoughtful decisions along the way.

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I wanted it to be more than a lesson about navigating a corn maze. I wanted it to be a lesson about life.

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Fast-forward a few years, and I found myself teaching both of my children how to drive. They are two years apart, but they both asked me the same question whenever I told them to drive to school, the park or the grocery store: “Can we just turn on the GPS?”

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My answer was usually no.

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Not because I am against GPS, but because driving is not only about getting from here to there. It is about learning how to find your way.

To me, that is a perfect metaphor for life.

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Life is not simply about reaching the destination. It is about paying attention, making decisions, getting turned around occasionally and learning how to correct your course. It is about developing the confidence to think for yourself instead of waiting for a device to tell you what to do next.

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Technology has made many parts of our lives easier. But somewhere along the way, I think many of us stopped using some of the mental and physical skills that once helped us feel capable, independent and connected to the world around us.

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We follow directions without understanding where we are. We buy food without thinking about where it came from. We communicate constantly without always having meaningful conversations. We consume endless information while rarely giving ourselves the quiet necessary to form our own thoughts.

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Connectivity Farm is an opportunity to find our way again.

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It is a place to reconnect with yourself—to slow down, think clearly and remember that you are capable of more than simply following the next set of instructions on a screen.

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It is a place to reconnect with others—to have real conversations, share meals, solve problems together and spend time with the people beside you instead of the people inside your phone.

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And it is a place to reconnect with the land—to understand where food comes from, work with your hands, spend time outdoors and rediscover skills that many of us no longer use in our everyday lives.

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Connectivity Farm is not about rejecting technology.

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It is about remembering that technology should be a tool we use—not something that determines how we think, where we look or how we experience the world.

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Sometimes the most important part of the journey is not how quickly we reach the destination.

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It is learning how to find our own way there.