Living In the Small (continued)
Welcome to our cabin. Also: meet Larch, our feline guest master.
Living in the small puts a different focus and spin on things. It will alter how you move and how you interact with the space around you. It will certainly change the amount and kind of stuff you keep around. For no other reason other than it kinda has to.
If someone is willing, interested and ready, living in the small can be a liberation. It can also feed and nurture spiritual practice. However, just as a side note and a disclaimer, if we’re not willing, interested, and ready - and I do think all 3 are needed - living in the small can be a real nightmare of hardships.
The spiritual energy of renunciation comes up for me when I think about living in the small. Not the word itself, but the energy. Textbook definition wise, ‘renunciation’ means to sacrifice, give up, or get rid of. It implies a certain kind of burdensome effort necessary in order to begrudgingly make due without. A kind of lonesome existence without the benefit of having access to certain things. But when put into a spiritual context, renunciation, in the form of downsizing one’s belongings, has the capacity to invoke a genuine feeling of freedom. It centers on not overly attaching to or overly identifying with things, and finding deeper meaning beyond the surface of stuff. It means knowing what to hold onto and what not to. What adds value and what doesn’t.
The house we lived in for 18-years in Missoula, prior to buying the land we live on now here at Empty Mountain, was 550-square-feet, which is small by U.S home average standards of size. When we sold our house, we moved into our 1989 Chevy conversion van. And now we reside in a 12X14 cabin with a loft. So the whole idea of small - just like everything else - is relative. We recently did some calculations and determined that our dwelling place now is around 220-square-feet.
These books are currently situated in our unfinished cabin. Not because I read them regularly, but because they lend good vibes to the space.
The process of downsizing our house in Missoula, along with the detached garage we used as Mike’s workshop and a storage space, in preparation to sell, took some real doing. It took a lot of time and effort and energy. It was physically exhausting, mentally draining, and emotionally taxing. Even in our small 550-sq-ft place and our slightly smaller garage, we still had a lot of stuff to sort through. The whole decision-making process of what to keep, what building materials to donate or recycle, what to toss, what to try and sell, and what to drop off at a thrift store was ultimately extremely beneficial, but in the thick and fray of it, totally overwhelming. I actually really appreciated the fact that it was necessary for us to do this kind of downsizing, otherwise it would’ve been really really easy not to do it. When we sold our house, we had no idea of what was coming next. All of the things that made the cut had to fit into a storage unit we paid for month-to-month, until we found land we could afford to buy. So the motivation factor to scale down was based on real need. Had we simply been moving into a different house, I’m sure we would’ve just held onto everything, maybe with plans to sort through it all later on the other end. Ya know, the kind of “later” that never comes.
Flash forward to present day living. Our cabin is still in an active state of construction. We don’t yet have finished interior walls or flooring, which means we also don’t have the necessary conditions to build our kitchen or install necessary shelving. Inside the cabin, we are looking at exposed insulation bats and walking on OSB (which stands for oriented strand board, in case you were wondering). While we have all of our basic needs met, with the interior of the cabin still in need of finishing, it means there are a lot of things I can’t yet bring into our living space, simply for lack of shelving, wall space, and room.
And while I am dearly looking forward to the day when the inside of our cabin is finished and more user friendly, it’s also providing me with some real quality time to figure out, once again, what is truly necessary to keep around. And I’m not just talking about the practicalities of living. I’m not just referring to the cooking implements we need and the manuals that go along with our solar power system and propane driven on-demand shower set up. I’m also referring to the items that add heart value and beauty to life. For me, prioritizing the practicalities of living at the expense of what I like to call The Poetry of Living, is nothing I am interested in.
I need art around me. I need books of actual poetry. I need the infusion of upliftment that comes from hanging up found feathers and putting on display small gifts I was given, neat rocks, and simple treasures. I need my basic art supplies, my musical instruments, and whatever else is needed for my outlets of creative self-expression. Essential alongside everything logistically needed, even in a small space, are reminders of how best to live. Quality of life need not take a backseat to practical living, regardless of the amount of space you have in your dwelling place. Feed the soul and nourish the spirit, I say. Life is just too darn short to do otherwise.
Our small fridge in our small cabin. Among what you see here, 7 different friends sent or gifted us the items on display. Fridge art is one of the many ways I keep strong and active my feelings of connection.