Walking the less traveled road is often praised. The unexpected is a joy, as well as the unravelling of...well, who knows? A little over a year ago I moved to rural Wales from London. It was not something I wanted, but it was necessary to take a break from a life that had become chaotic. Six years prior had been filled with turmoil, death, grief, and estrangement. Before I made my big move, my family and I moved to New York for a month. This was to be able to live on our own. As I searched for my place in the world, I spent days writing and watching people move around. I was deeply sad.Although walking has never been my favorite thing, I don't think it is wrong to enjoy the outdoors. I decided to buy a pair of high-end walking boots and set it as my goal to get one foot in front the other. Wilf, a retired farmer, was how I met him. He would tend to his sheep every day that I went out. It was a beautiful sight to see a shepherd tending his flock. It had an eternal quality, it was a man working the earth as if that one scope could hold all of eternity. It made all else seem so starkly fleeting.Wilf was the first person I spoke to when I stopped to ask him about my route and taught me how Welsh hwyl to say goodbye. His knowledge of the valley was amazing to me. I was also envious of his dedication to the land. It must have felt great to feel so grounded in life, when I felt so helpless. He said that the valley was cut in his heart. As I continued my walk, his words stayed with and influenced me. I was struck by the shapeless nature of my heart, and wondered how it could stop hurting.Wilf informed me one spring day while on a walk that the cuckoo would arrive from Africa in 10 Days. In 10 days the cuckoo was here. There was a slight, but tangible, excitement around the valley at its arrival. It echoed across the valley from my balcony as I was sitting on my balcony. It was the sound that brought clarity.The day I quit listening to podcasts was the first time that I heard the cuckoo.The cuckoo was the moment I decided to stop listening to podcasts while I was walking. They became intrusive. Why would I listen to someone talk when I can be listening to my own heart beat? Or the rustle in leaves? Or the birds? Podcasts were a symbol of a world where people are open to all ideas, but have very few words. Wilf would work alone in silence. But I began to realize that he wasn't silent. He was simply attuned for a different frequency. I was quieter, and I heard Wilfs world more: crickets, sheep, crickets, and swooping bats. This made me very tearful, as I had only heard dissonance for six years. My internal cry was echoed by the cries of the lambs. It was almost like reverse origami. The Earth was being folded out rather than in tight-fisted balls.Wilf and I had a small conversation. We only spoke for a few minutes each day. Small talk can be very useful when it uncovers so many things. Wilf told me that he hadn't been to my hometown and I didn't realize how London-centric I was. It was only then that I discovered that he had only been outside his valley once, and that it was over 30 years ago. I tried to not see him as a past relic; besides, his existence now was in the present. I was running all over the place, attracted to everything shiny and new, like a magpie. Wilf remained still all the time. I wondered if Wilf was gazing at me as much I felt he was gazing at me. It's okay to look at things with reverence and curiosity, and to be a bit naive. What was his impression of me? A woman from India, full of questions. A flibbertigibbet wearing a Little Red Riding Hood raincoat and a reckless habit to walk on the busiest roads of life.Wilf helped me to see that there was movement in being still. If you can notice the seasons changes so clearly; if your ears allow you to hear the cuckoo. To assume that the world revolves around you and that everything is at your beck and demand seems so common for city dwellers. Wilf didn't believe the world revolved around his, he just moved with it. He was a good observer of the rhythm and timing of the earth. As farmers, he was a willing and contented slave to the earth. They understand that it is futile to argue against nature.Wilf helped me to see that there was movement even when I stood still.Wilf was eating his lunch while I was sitting in his white van. I asked him what he had for dinner that night. It was shocking to learn that he had been eating the same meal for many years. Life was to me a feast and I would always show up for the feasting. Wilf argued that he could only eat the food he liked, so there was no need for him to try other foods. This realization was something I struggled with throughout my walk. This revelation prompted me to start thinking about my eating habits. I avoid eating things that make me happy, such as cheese, cakes, desserts and chocolate, although I often fail at this. I realized that it was not Wilf who was restricting my food choices, but me. Wilf was unapologetically eating the food that he loves every night. He didn't limit himself. His chosen plat du jour happiness.Wilf would have been a mystery to me when I was younger. We wouldn't have met if we didn't know each other. I would have asked, "What can you learn from standing still?" Immanuel Kant, the philosopher, lived his whole life in Knigsberg. He rarely traveled outside of the city. He would get up at 5am every morning, go to the same restaurant every day for lunch, and walk the same route every day in the same park. It was a limited existence, but it was a full life. As if looking through a microscope, I began to see the beauty in lives like these. I was able to see the beauty in a microscopic world. Life is not static. We can give meaning to anything we want. This realization felt liberating.During my walks, I thought about many things. There was a time that I saw contentment as Wilfs' poor relation to happiness. Happiness is a wild swing from the chandeliers of happiness, while contentment comes into our lives quietly. As I learned more about Wilfs contentment I was envious. I also understood its elusiveness. My belief was that one must travel far and wide to find oneself. It was a rare thing that someone could find their way back to where they were. However, I am content to walk the Earth in search of what Wilf suggests, but still have yet to find it. It is just part of my nature to move in and out the world's revolving doors. I must take in the sights. I want to push all the buttons and see what happens. It's my way of doing it; it's my mode of operation.Wilf said that he used to walk in the valley every night. I went up it one day. Standing at the top, I looked down and everything seemed so far away. It was a wonderful experience to see the world from a different perspective. I felt content looking at the green hills. It was the same feeling one might get when seeing a Picasso or Monet. No neon signs or lights from the city told me that there was an emergency. Wilf knew the land like the backs of his hands, but it was for me the less traveled road.Follow Kiran @KiranSidhu41
