
Do We Own Our Own Minds?
The other day, I received a phone call offering me $1,000 and a script to talk about a very specific issue in my niche.
Mollie Engelhart
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The other day, I received a phone call offering me $1,000 and a script to talk about a very specific issue in my niche.

On our ranch in Texas, we still drink raw milk, raise cattle, prune fruit trees, and argue about the future of America around the dinner table while our children run barefoot outside.

Last month I walked through the aisles of H-E-B with my children.

If we are not willing to rise over the exploitation of children, what are we willing to rise over?

As many of you know, I grew up in a hippie household in Ithaca, New York—one of the most liberal towns in the United States.

Most people check the weather the way they check traffic or the time.

Someone from my past commented on one of my posts recently, upset that I’m stepping into the beauty and health space — selling herbs, creams, and salves made from things grown on our farm.

Over the years, I have put hope in leaders.

The last day we didn’t have a gun on the farm, I watched two sheep bleed out while my husband stood empty-handed.

As the temperature cools here in Texas, I get to use one of my favorite possessions, something I truly cherish: my wood cook stove.