I Thought I Was Farming. Then I Realized I Wasn’t
By Harsh Vardhan Thakur ·
March this year was probably my lowest point.
We had run out of funds.
None of my plans to boost cash flows or raise funds had materialized on time.
Projects needed to be paused.
Decisions needed to be made.
Expectations needed to be managed.
For most of my life, my response to difficult situations had been action.
- Work harder
- Push harder
- Find another solution
- Create another plan
- Control the outcome
Looking back, I now realize that many of those actions were responses.
Often reactions.
It took someone holding up a mirror for me to see what had become obvious to everyone except me.
I wasn’t just trying to solve problems. I was trying to control uncertainty.
And those are very different things.
What surprised me was that this realization did not come from a therapist.
Or a book.
Or a spiritual discourse.
It came from a farm.
For the last six years, I thought I was building a farm.
I thought I was learning about natural farming.
I thought I was studying soil health, biodiversity, agroforestry, livestock integration, food systems and rural development.
I thought I was trying to regenerate land.
I was wrong.
Or perhaps only partially right.
Because somewhere along the journey, the farm quietly started teaching me about myself.
The more I learned to listen to what it was quietly teaching me, the more I realized how much of my life was being driven by validation.
At first, it looked reasonable.
I wanted scientific validation that the soil was improving.
Validation that natural farming worked.
Validation that biodiversity was returning.
Validation that food quality was improving.
Validation that consumers could taste the difference.
Validation that the business model would eventually work.
Validation that the sacrifices were worth it.
Validation that people understood what we were trying to build.
But then I noticed something uncomfortable.
The search for validation had quietly escaped the boundaries of the farm.
It had entered other parts of my life.
Relationships.
Expectations.
Decisions.
Even my understanding of myself.
I started asking difficult questions.
Was I seeking validation for the work?
Or validation for myself?
Was I trying to prove something to others?
Or trying to convince myself?
And somewhere in that process, I realized something else.
The farm wasn’t teaching me about soil anymore. It was teaching me about attachment.
Over the following months, something shifted.
I started reading more.
Reflecting more.
Listening more.
I spent time with a therapist.
I learnt how to meditate.
I started traveling again, something that I had always loved and had stopped along the way.
I picked up books after almost two decades. I consumed countless content – writings, podcasts, documentaries on nature, spirituality and human behaviour trying to find an answer – Who am I?
I found myself exploring ideas from Carl Jung around masks, identities and the personas we create for ourselves.
I spent time thinking about patterns.
Not just patterns in ecosystems.
Patterns in people.
Patterns in relationships.
Patterns in my own life.
And perhaps for the first time, I stopped looking for answers and started paying attention to questions.
One thing I find fascinating about nature is that it never feels compelled to explain itself.
Nature does not seek validation.
A tree does not ask permission before producing fruit.
A bird does not justify its song.
A river does not explain its purpose.
Nature simply does what it was designed to do.
Consistently.
Patiently.
Without applause.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that we human beings spend enormous amounts of energy seeking certainty in a world that offers very little of it.
Natural farming taught me many things.
But perhaps its most important lesson had nothing to do with farming.
It taught me ecosystem thinking.
And ecosystem thinking changed the way I view life.
In an ecosystem, nothing exists in isolation.
Everything is connected.
Soil affects plants.
Plants affect insects.
Insects affect birds.
Birds affect seeds.
Seeds affect future forests.
The same is true for our lives.
Health.
Family.
Work.
Purpose.
Community.
Relationships.
Finances.
Spirituality.
None of these exist independently.
When we nurture each part of the system continuously, the whole becomes stronger, healthier and more resilient.
The goal is not optimization.
The goal is balance.
The goal is resilience.
One lesson I did not expect to learn from farming was how similar relationships are to ecosystems.
For a long time, I approached relationships the same way I approached problems.
Fix them.
Improve them.
Optimize them.
Create outcomes.
Find solutions.
Over time, I realized that people are not projects.
Not every disagreement needs a resolution.
Not every silence needs filling.
Not every expectation needs fulfillment.
And not every relationship is meant to look the same throughout life.
Some relationships need space.
Some need attention.
Some need patience.
Some need boundaries.
And some simply need acceptance.
The more I observed nature, the more I realized that healthy ecosystems are not built through control.
They are built through balance.
The same is true for relationships.
Whether with family, friends, colleagues, communities or even ourselves.
One of the biggest shifts for me has been learning the difference between holding on and showing up.
Holding on creates anxiety.
Showing up creates presence.
The more time I spend at the farm, the more I think about the generations that came before me.
People I never met.
Decisions I never witnessed.
Sacrifices I never fully understood.
Yet their fingerprints are everywhere.
The land I walk on.
The opportunities I inherited.
The values I carry.
Even the questions I find myself asking.
It has made me realize that ownership is often an illusion.
We are not owners.
We are temporary custodians.
Of land.
Of relationships.
Of opportunities.
Of responsibilities.
Of time.
Life goes on.
Whether we are ready or not.
People come and go.
Some arrive as chapters.
Some return later in the story.
Some leave behind a lesson and continue on their own journey.
Nothing stays exactly as it is.
Not success.
Not failure.
Not joy.
Not pain.
Not certainty.
Not confusion.
Everything changes.
Everything moves.
Life keeps moving.
With or without our permission.
What was anxiety a year ago has slowly become surrender.
Not surrender as defeat.
Surrender as acceptance.
Acceptance that not everything needs to be controlled.
Not every battle needs to be fought today.
Not every problem deserves an immediate reaction.
Not every question requires an immediate answer.
Not every expectation needs to be fulfilled.
And not everything that matters can be measured.
The farm is still unfinished.
So am I.
And perhaps that is exactly how it is supposed to be.
I used to think peace would arrive when everything was finally under control.
These days, I think peace comes from understanding that very little ever was.
Life did not become easier.
I simply stopped expecting it to follow my plans.
And strangely, that has made the journey far more beautiful.
I thought I was farming.
Then I realized I wasn’t.
#BhimaKamat #NaturalFarming #SystemsThinking #LifeLessons #PersonalGrowth #Leadership #MentalWellbeing #Agroecology #RegenerativeAgriculture #RuralDevelopment #Spirituality #SustainableLiving