The Contented Misfit

I sometimes feel that I am a misfit among the people around me. I try to maintain cordial relations with most, but there are places where our thoughts and perceptions differ. The pace of the modern world, its values, its endless noise, the social norms expected by most, all seem to move in a direction opposite to my own quiet rhythm and comfort zone.

Perhaps that is why I find my comfort among nature and books, instead of crowds and mindless chatter. The idea of being constantly online feels more like noise than company. I will prefer the hum of bees to the buzz of notifications, any day. Depending on how people see me, I have been labeled as a free spirit and nonconformist, to words that I would rather not write.

For starters, I like to learn as much as I can about nature – farming methods, horticulture, permaculture, organic farming, soil, and whatever else I can lay my hands on. Now a days, I am reading a book on forest gardens. I already know most of it but it still quite interesting. Similarly, flipping through coffee table books showing beautiful gardens delights me. I recently found an old book on urban gardening with lots of photographs. When I am doing nothing, I love to flip through it and imagine how and what I can do in my orchard. Yet people around me are blissfully unaware of this quiet fascination of mine. Those who do take an interest in flowers are content with growing annuals in planters, and that’s more than enough for most. But when I wish to talk about soil structure, or the intricacies of fungal networks in the orchard, I find myself at a loss. There’s no one nearby, who is so deeply interested or hungry for knowledge.

When it comes to learning, I collect information through books and long-form articles. Videos, on the other hand, distract me. My friends often share video links, especially from social media, and I simply smile. No doubt they are interesting, but a good book or a thoughtful blog teaches me far more. Perhaps I am what people call a bookworm, I’d much rather read a book than watch its film adaptation. Schindler’s Ark book moved me more than the film, even though Schindler’s list is one of the most artistically recreated version.

And since I love books and blogs so much, I occasionally write here as well. When I want to share my thoughts, there are only a handful of people who genuinely enjoy reading them. Some do so out of old friendship, wanting to know what I have been up to. Interestingly, even though I live in a remote village in India, most of my regular readers are from Europe. Sometimes I wonder if I was born in the wrong country, or perhaps in the wrong time.

Another space where I feel out of step is when people from the city talk about land and property prices. For them, land is an investment, a figure to watch and speculate upon. For me, land is where my trees grow, where nature speaks to me in whispers and seasons, where I can enjoy my homegrown fruits. When asked about the local land rates, I usually confess that I have no idea since I am no property broker. As for my finances, I still find myself juggling between running the homestay, tending to the fruit orchard, and occasionally taking up professional assignments of varying scale. Land, to me, is not an asset to be traded but a sacred living space that breathes and nurtures.

Then there’s the idea of fun. Most people I know love to drink. Alcohol forms the centre of most gatherings, and the more of it there is, the better the evening is considered. I on the other hand, am almost a teetotaller now. Almost, because I still enjoy a mug of chilled beer or a glass of wine once in a while, perhaps once a month but never so much that I lose my words. Thankfully, I now know a few others who share this sense of moderation and even a few who completely avoid alcohol, and that has been a pleasant development over the years. As for parties, I prefer to stay away. I find more joy in meeting a person individually, talking about something meaningful, than in the noise of a crowded gathering where talk drifts from weather to politics and back again.

Social media, too, feels distant to me. It has its own strange ecosystem that feeds on constant visibility and comparison. I once tried to keep up, but it felt like watching life through glass. The more time I spent online, the more I drifted away from the living world – the smell of wet soil after rain, the call of a thrush at dusk, the softness of loamy soil in my palm, or the moist grass under my feet. These moments exist without the need for applause or social validation. They are complete in themselves, and in their company, I too feel complete. I have slowly and slowly almost abandoned social media. Whatever little exists, it is there to market my services.

Sometimes people find my choices odd. They ask why I live so quietly, why I avoid the crowd, why I keep my world small when the world itself is so large. I do not have a clear answer. Perhaps it is because I believe depth matters more than width. I would rather know one place deeply, than skim over thousands without understanding any. I would rather have a couple of very good friends rather than a large group of acquaintances. Even for my vacations, relaxing and enjoying good food while staying put in one place is more important than having a list of popular destinations to visit.

The orchard has taught me that stillness is not emptiness. Beneath the surface, roots are always seeking out, worms are always working, seeds are always dreaming. Life does not need to shout to be alive. In that stillness, I find meaning that the modern world often overlooks. I feel that by trying to know more and more, by introspecting and contemplating on various thoughts, by trying to understand things that are usually taken for granted, I am improving myself by being still and quiet.

Am I a misfit? Yes, maybe. But there are many more like me, souls who like to live gently, who listen more than they speak, who seek harmony instead of excitement. I am happy in their company. In the company of my neighbours, friends, and the visitors who find their way here, even if their thoughts and ways differ, I find happiness. Also the birds in the orchard, the wild animals that wander through, and the trees that sway around me are companions of a kind. My tastes and preferences may not match others’, but we still manage to find common ground and share good moments together.

So yes, I may be a misfit in the present social structure but I am a contented one.

Click here for all related posts – Browse my blog on slow and sustainable living !