The Village That Rewired How I Think About Land, Life, and Home

What a former ranger, a rewilded buffer zone, and a connected community taught me about how to live.

Jump into the Jungle

“Hey Rick.... I think I have something moving on my leg.”

Not exactly what you want to hear when leading a group through the Sumatran rainforest.

One of our students had picked up a "few" leeches after our third river crossing. We were deep into it. Fully immersed in the wild, humid, and unpredictable heart of the jungle.

That night, we made camp, and I couldn’t sleep. If you have ever been in a jungle at night, that’s when the chaos starts with so many animals coming to life. In the early morning, I watched mist rise into the tree canopy and felt more present than I had in a long time.

Getting There and What We Witnessed

I was co-leading a high school trip with ARCC. We flew from San Francisco to Singapore, then to Medan, followed by a long and bumpy ride into Bukit Lawang. Our final destination was Gunung Leuser National Park, one of the most biodiverse ecosystems in the world.

We saw orangutans swinging overhead and rare wildlife that many people never encounter. But we also saw vast fields of cleared forest, palm oil plantations stretching for miles, and villages pushed to the edge of viability. Entire communities were being displaced by extractive agriculture.

There is no shortage of research on the global consequences of palm oil. I plan to write more about that in depth. What I want to share now is a story that left me hopeful and grounded in possibility.

A Community Reclaiming Its Land

After our time in the park, we visited a nearby village led by Dharma, a former park ranger. He had spent years helping educate tourists about biodiversity loss. But over time, he saw that real change required more than awareness. It had to involve the people living at the boundaries of the forest.

Dharma and a few close friends began buying small parcels of degraded land. They introduced organic rice farming and planted fruit trees. They built a children's center and a public health outpost. At first, people called them unrealistic. But over time, more joined. Slowly, the village began to regenerate. Not just ecologically, but socially. They were reclaiming a way of life that worked with nature and with each other.

A Way of Living I Want

What stayed with me most was the simplicity and connection woven into daily life. There were places to swim when it got hot. “Nature” wasn’t something to escape to, but within reach at all times. No one seemed bored, as people were always down to talk shop. People were connected with each other across generations as well. 

Zero waste and sustainability weren’t programs, but cultural values that people respected. Banana leaves were often used as packaging. It was my first time being exposed to a cuisine that was inherently plant-centric, without a sacrifice of taste or quality as well.  I could probably write a whole piece on how unreal the fruit and tempeh were.

Disorienting Return

When we returned to the city of Medan, everything felt sharp and noisy. Billboards crowded the roads, extending the hands and visions of overconsumption. Our students wanted to get fast food. Several students got sick from it. The contrast made something clear to me. The jungle was not my home, but it offered a vision. One I have been trying to move toward ever since.

That experience led me to farming. It clarified that I want to live among people I care about, in relationship with land. I do not want to live alone in a tall building or isolate myself far from others in the name of sustainability.

I want to be part of a small community that cares for its surroundings, that welcomes nature into everyday life, and that builds slow, lasting forms of wealth.  I’m not there yet, but I wake up everyday building toward it. This is a signal flare to others who want that too.

Most urban places I’ve lived in do not make this kind of life easy. The scale, the pace, and the systems at play often push nature and community to the sidelines. Dharma’s village was different. It was not removed from the world, but it was not swallowed by it either. It offered something in between: a type of growth that was not hellbent on profit or screwing over people, animals, and the non-human world.

An Invitation to Others

If you are someone who is also thinking about where and how you want to live, I hope this piece meets you there. If you are already building something like this, I would love to learn from your work and talk.

This story is not just about the rainforest. It is about the kinds of places I want to create, the people we want to create them with, and how nature can become a thread rather than a backdrop or program.