Beginning Anew

In Awakening of the Heart by Thich Nhat Hanh, he writes: 

There is a Vietnamese proverb, “Tri tuc, tien tuc, dai tuc, ha thoi tuc.” That means, settling for “good enough” is enough. If we wait until all our needs and wants are met, we may wait forever. “Tri tuc” means “realizing that this is good enough.” “Good enough” means being content with the minimum amount necessary. Your shirt and pair of shoes can last another year. It’s all right for three or four people to share a desk for studying, there’s no need for each to have her own desk. Settling for “good enough” in terms of simple living will bring us contentment, satisfaction, and happiness immediately. As long as we think our lives are not good enough, we will not have happiness. As soon as we realize our lives are good enough, happiness immediately appears. That is the practice of contentment. 

Soon after I read this, in another book I was reading called 12 Tiny Things by Heidi Barr & Ellie Roscher, I learned about the Swedish word “lagom.” Loosely translated, it means “just the right amount.”

I love it when things like this happen. When things just line up and speak to where I’m at, especially when it comes to me from different angles and teaching perspectives. When I read the passage from Thay (aka Thich Nhat Hanh), it was just the encouragement and boost I needed. 

Tri tuc. Lagom. Two different languages to express the heart of the direction Mike & I are venturing in: simple living.

It’s not an easy undertaking to determine what we need to prioritize for our Empty Mountain endeavors. We’re building from the ground up here, off-grid and in the woods. And we’re greenhorns at almost everything we’re doing. Since Mike & I are a divide and conquer sort of duo, his current learnings consist of things like: trying to angle our cell booster antenna to maximize our signal; building an outhouse out of the limited materials we have on hand; figuring out how to work a job for money while also investing in EM projects; and researching endlessly things like propane fridges, cell boosters, and how to keep ticks at bay.

My current learnings are things like: figuring out how long a block of ice lasts in the cooler; keeping track of how often I need to do water runs; gauging how often I need to collect sticks and chop wood for the woodstove; learning how to start & sustain a fire in the woodstove; juggling all the things I need to do when I have wi-fi access (since we don’t yet have it on the land); and finding ways to feel okay with the reality of living in a construction zone. 

As I investigate what my own relationship with the spirit of tri tuc and lagom looks like, what comes up for me is: things take time. EM is a brand new fresh chapter in our lives and it’ll take time to unfold. It will also take time to figure out what simple living means to us now, and how we can manifest what it is we’re interested in developing here in the woods. 

I continue to miss certain aspects about living in town. Things like taking showers whenever I want, having friends close by, being able to attend certain events and happenings sans the one-hour drive one-way to get there, and having regular access to wi-fi. But on the simple living front, I’m also appreciating how much I appreciate my once-a-week showers when I get them in Missoula at my friend Amy’s house. I’m getting the hang of scheduling friend dates on my Missoula Mondays when I’m in town. I’m starting to really enjoy putting less on my plate and shifting my usages of time. And while having wi-fi would be helpful, there’s also something nice about just forming a relationship with our new home in the woods without that being an option/distraction right now. 

I’m starting to not only get used to, but also enjoy, things like once-a-week showers and cooking simple meals and keeping our water usage to a minimum and finding creative ways to make use of our small dwelling space. When we sold our house in Missoula, we got rid of most of our furniture and drastically downsized our belongings. As such, we’re starting not from scratch but with very little in the way of things on hand. So we have a really rich opportunity to begin anew. To assess what we really need, and what it means to have just the right amount.

A poem I penned yesterday:

Sweetness in simplicity, 

sometimes struggle too. 

The eastern sun is crawling up over the mountain. 

Pines & firs alight from shadow. 

Pops & crackles stir in the woodstove, 

as poems nearby wait to be written. 

Sometimes I hear a voice in the forest. 

One that says: simple living is not enough. 

But I know it is not my own. 

So I do my best not to listen, and

carry on with enjoying the day.