Blog Post #5 (or maybe #2): Tiny Living, Big Lessons

“Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.” – Lao Tzu

Before I dive back into the long waiting game of permits and approvals, I want to take a step back and share a chapter that truly shaped me: my time living in a 7’ x 20’ Tiny Home at a Zen Buddhist Meditation Retreat in Cottonwood.

After leaving my sweet little Coronado bungalow in Phoenix, I moved into what would be my home for the next year and eight months. It had a composting toilet, a horse trough for a shower, and the most minimal setup you can imagine. Five T-shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, a few dress shirts—five total things on hangers. Toothbrush, towel, a few essentials in tiny boxes. I had a futon that turned into a bed each night, and each morning I’d fold it all back up and tuck my blankets away into a little ottoman. Some of my food lived under the futon, and I had a dorm-size fridge that showed me just how much we overfill refrigerators with things we don’t even eat.

Everything I thought I needed—my books, my wardrobe, extra stuff—sat untouched in a storage shed. I lived simply. I lived presently. And I learned.

I built that Tiny Home mostly with my own two hands and a few helpers. Floors, trim, paint, sinks—I did it all. And I cried the first week because things weren’t working out the way I’d envisioned. But I reminded myself: “At least I’ll have subcontractors for my real home build.” Still, it was my first true test—and it became my first true sanctuary.

Every morning, I’d take long walks around the retreat grounds, breathing in the silence, waiting for the future to arrive—waiting for The TaKun Space to become real. I kept dreaming, “Once my space is done, life will feel amazing.” But looking back, I realize life was already happening. And it was beautiful.

That little home became my cave, my refuge, my teacher. It taught me patience. Gratitude. Trust. It stripped away the belief that happiness lies in the next phase of life. Instead, it gently whispered: You are already home.

So if you’re in a place that feels temporary, uncertain, or small—know that it may be exactly the teacher you need right now. That “waiting period” may just be where the real magic is.

To Hai Chau, the kind Buddhist nun who welcomed me onto the land for what I thought would be three months (and turned into a year and eight), I say thank you.

To my Tiny Home, my dog Thay, my minimal belongings, my morning walks—I say thank you.

Because that little space gave me everything I needed to begin this bigger journey.

“Let your concern be with action alone, and never with the fruits of action. Do not let the results of your action be your motive, and do not be attached to inaction.” – Bhagavad Gita 2.47