🌱 From Reflection to Action — Daring to Dream of a Farm

In my previous blog, I wrote about stepping away from my urban identity and choosing to reconnect with nature and myself. It was a deeply emotional decision, filled with questions of purpose, guilt, and vulnerability. But once the seed was planted, the question shifted from “Why?” to “How?”

Could I really become a farmer?

Was that too drastic a dream?

Even as a child, I was always fascinated by the world around me. I loved being in nature. After marriage, I found the perfect partner who shared that love — especially for travel. Weekends often meant packed bags and road trips, and at least once or twice a year, we’d take two-week-long journeys to explore new places. We used to dream that, someday, when work slowed down, we would spend a whole month in one place — getting to know the local culture, mingling with people, and truly understanding and appreciating the land.

My husband frequently travelled abroad for work, almost every alternate week. I too had the opportunity to travel extensively — presenting my work, sharing ideas, and participating in workshops and trainings across many countries and cities. These experiences broadened our worldview and exposed us to different cultures, landscapes, and shared global challenges.

One experiential learning workshop we attended had a lasting impact on us. There, we made deep connections and got a taste of community living — sharing, caring for the Earth, working together, cooking, cleaning, and playing. It was deeply meaningful and joyful to be surrounded by like-minded people, engaged in work that felt purposeful.

This group had an initiative to collectively purchase a large parcel of farmland. We were excited by the idea — shared learning and collective responsibility, without the full burden of ownership. But the process became slow and complicated, riddled with legal hurdles and land ownership issues.

We waited for years, hopeful, but eventually began to consider buying land on our own. Still, we felt hesitant to take on such a big responsibility. With no prior experience — and with aging in mind — we feared it might become more of a burden than a joy. Gradually, the dream of owning a farm began to fade. A freer, more mobile lifestyle — traveling without long-term commitments — seemed like a safer, easier choice.

Then COVID struck. And like many, we were forced into stillness. That period gave us space to reflect more deeply on our lives, our priorities, and our dreams.

Our longing to be close to nature only grew stronger. We began to ask ourselves:

What would truly bring us lasting happiness?

Was it wandering the world without responsibilities?

Or choosing a slower, more rooted life — being close to the land every day, learning from it, and growing with it?

We realized that choosing the latter didn’t mean giving up our love for travel. Yes, it might bring some limitations, but it also promised something deeper — connection, fulfilment, and inner peace.

After much reflection, we found our answer: we would be happier nurturing a small piece of land, learning from it, and growing with it.

With that clarity, our search for a farm began.

🛤️ Up Next: The Search for the Land

In the next blog, I’ll share the unfolding of our search: refining our purpose and needs, new learnings and connections, and the eventual spark of knowing when a place feels like it’s calling you home