A few years ago I was doing the math and calculated that I had lived in 25 different homes by the time I was 45 years old. This was an astonishing discovery as it works out to be a new place of living, eating and sleeping every two years on average. Of course the longest I ever lived in one place was 9 years, but this never gave me the true sense of “home” I was endlessly seeking.
So at age 17 I set off to find it. This took me to California, Hawaii, Southeast Asia and Europe and Scandinavia before I was 19. Perhaps all of these experiences prepared me for the nomadic way of life I am now living.
As of this writing, I will be moving tomorrow, once again to a new living space. Fortunately, my new “home” is just a 2 km walk down the road from my current place and will continue to keep me surrounded by the beautiful nature of Costa Rica high up on a mountain. It is a peaceful place, tranquiilo, conducive to writing and will be a good setting for the course I will begin to teach English as a foreign language.
This move marks the 10th place I have lived in the past year, so I am looking forward to a new season in one place.
All of this perpetual movement and disruption of my surroundings often serves as a perfect metaphor for me for the times we are now living in. There seem to be no foundations of certainty to be found in our external world or environment and the very foundations of “certainty” we once thought we had continue to crumble all around us with each day’s news feed. Even things we had planned or envisioned a year or two ago seem to be now distant memories, forgotten amidst the flux on a daily and monthly basis.
Over time, this has led me to seek the “foundation beneath no foundation.” I first began to discover elements of this deeper foundation of certainty while living on my own in Kyoto, Japan. I found this by living surrounded by nature, morning walks and meditations, writing, painting and living as simply as possible. I have now been fortunate to taste glimpses of these elements that travel with me in Japan, Boquete, Panama, and Costa Rica. I have begun to discover that I can carry these things with me no matter what my surroundings are.
My first glimpse of this possible way of living came 12 years ago when I went from living in a large typical modern home with all of the grandeur and amenities (and mortgage) in an urban city to living in a simple tiny apartment overlooking a running river. I took my favorite chair and placed it facing out over the river and began to sit quietly for long periods of time for the better part of 3 years. It was there that I began to be quiet, writing, meditating and listening to the path of my soul.
That chapter of the story came to its end and I moved to a “tiny house” by Texas standards which I fondly named the “Zen Pad.” I was removed from the busyness of the modern city and began to embrace the slow life and developing my garden.
When that chapter ended, I further downsized my life and purged about 70% of my already minimalist possessions and moved into a tiny 450 square foot studio in the center of an active urban community.
Little did I know then that this chapter of living within one large room, walking everywhere and making my meals in a kitchen with one drawer were preparing me for the journey that lie ahead.
I’ll never forget living in that tiny studio one New Year’s Eve and making a poster called a vision board. On it I put image after image of Japan. There was even one that said “Explore Kyoto.”
On that night I could have never predicted that two years later I would in fact explore Kyoto and live in a tiny house just a couple of blocks from Kyoto’s famous Imperial Gardens which were once the capital for all of Japan. My life in Kyoto was abundantly simple with my outdoor shower and sitting on the floor in traditional Japanese style. Once again 450 square feet.
This past year I have lived in a tiny casa apartment just steps from the beach in Playa Grande, Costa Rica. Simplicity at its best with a handmade wooden table to do my writing, a sometimes warm shower, and I tiny kitchen to prepare basic meals.
I have written about my six months living on top of a mountain in Boquete, Panama among the indigenous Ngabe Bugle people. There I lived simply for $450 per month, writing, listening to birds and processing my own coffee.
In May I returned to Costa Rica, once again to Playa Grande along that beautiful stretch of beach in Guanacaste.
Today I am once again in the energy of the mountains, living among the wildlife and nature again in perhaps the tiniest space I have lived in yet, simple but with all I need.
This past year I have lived rent free for months in exchange for my work and help, I have lived for $450 per month on a beautiful mountaintop among indigenous people where I learned more of their language than Spanish, and I have lived for $294 per month among the beautiful natural surroundings of the Central Valley of Costa Rica. My housing budget for the entire past year has been $3,750. This works out to less than my car payment back home when I was living in the U.S, less than the average grocery budget.
Beneath this long chain of experiences, many of which did not make sense from one to the next, there has been an underlying foundation that has been being poured. It is a foundation and a way of being amidst a very uncertain external world in a time of great transition. This foundation for me is found in nature, on my morning walks and hikes, in meditation and in writing. These seem to provide a sense of calm and tranquility amidst the world we now live in.
With all of the transition and uncertainty in the world, perhaps now is a time to consider your own “foundations beneath no foundation.” I invite you to consider your own and I’d love to hear from you if you care to pass some along.
Tranquilo.
if some one asks
my home
I reply
the east edge
of the Milky Way
-Ryokan
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Zen and Ink Journals represents hundreds of hours of writing over the past decade, sometimes from a train in remote China or a coffee shop in Kyoto, a hammock in Costa Rica or a simple cabin on a mountain in Boquete, Panama.
Zen and Ink Journals is a simple offering of words in the hope of inspiring others to a simpler, more mindful way of life in these chaotic times. I invite you along each month on the journey for a glimpse of the larger world, reflections on living more simply and quietly amidst the chaos of our modern world.
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Kirk
This is beautiful, Kirk. You’re demonstrating that minimalism not only subtracts things but adds spaciousness.