The Houses We Live In

[Hotetsu]

Lol!

Gassho,
Hotetsu

#SatToday

[Kyotai]

Thank you for sharing Ed.

Gassho, Kyotai
sat today

[Ed]

In gratitude to this company.
sat2day

[Meishin]

You demonstrate wisdom, Ed. Thank you for this teaching.

Gassho
Meishin
Sat today

[Myosha]

Metta to all.


Gassho
Myosha sat today

[Emmet]

I'm curious how others live.
We've just moved to a new (to us) house. It was remodeled 3 years ago, then left vacant for two, with a single-level open floor plan, wide doors, a wheelchair-accessible bathroom, and ramps instead of stairs. It has white oak floors, cedar ceilings, and hickory cabinets, with lots of windows. I have a small zendo set up in one room. It's at the end of a relatively quiet dead-end street in a small township in western North Carolina. There are many trees, and so far we've counted 25 bird species (I've set up a feeder that I'll be able to see when I can no longer get out of a chair). The dogwoods and rhododendron will be lovely this spring.
That's the house I live in.
My Beloved makes it a home.


Sat today.

[Myosha]

Hello,

A blessing. Thank you.


Gassho
Myosha sat today

[Oheso]

My Beloved makes it a home.


.

looks and sounds idyllic Piobair, thank you for sharing this.
gassho, O, who sat this day

[Ansan]

Hello everyone...thank you for sharing your homes and lifestyle. And thank you, Catherine, for starting this thread...and WELCOME! What a delight it is to read your experiences and about the various lifestyles and homes of everyone here.

Somewhere on TreeLeaf, I am not sure where, but Jundo posted a comment about living in an (imaginary) house that had spiders and broken windows, etc. And I thought: That was/is our house!

About 20 years ago, we decided to leave our wonderful home in a historic neighborhood, which we bought as a fix-up, complete with termite-infested oak floors and window casings, a tiled roof that leaked from somewhere and everywhere, ceilings and a bathroom that exposed the lathing, wiring that required a penny to jump-start the lights, a chandelier that was hung by biker's chains, and no back door. And oh yes, an old wringer washing machine that played "How dry I am." Unfortunately, the ex-owner decided to reclaim it. Darn. The house came replete with black widow spiders and grubs that ate our lawn. Yeah, it was a nightmare home that the homeless claimed as theirs before the previous owner bought it. Forgive my bragging, but it was gorgeous when we left...all finished with our own hands. It was featured on the home tours. I even had my own large private studio in a building that we erected in the backyard. And handmade tiles in the bathroom and kitchen, where we installed a restaurant stove. I learned how to ignore my fear of heights by re-plastering the 13ft. high vaulted ceiling in the living room. After those 15 years of hard work and lots of parties, we began to feel uncomfortable. We spent 15 years renovating...and we loved every minute of it, until it became a neighborhood that attracted investors. There were too many rules of the newly established neighborhood committees to follow, then, to stay within the parameters of their rules. I knew that, when I got a note from them because I planted wildflowers on my front lawn. That was no longer permitted.

It was time to move on. Besides, we were spending more and more of our weekends in our VW van camping up on the mountain top of the Mogollon Rim where we picked wild raspberries and did not see anyone except the forest ranger once in a while and an occasional logging truck. We sold our 75 year old home, which I really, really, really loved. When we made the decision to buy 40 acres in the desert, about 75 miles from Phoenix, neither of us felt any remorse or withdrawal. It is 360 degrees of mountains and no neighbors for 3 miles. We gave away most of our furnishing, including a lot of my paintings and sculptures, to neighbors and friends. We bought a 40' beat-up old trailer and lived in it while we built our home from old lumber and indigenous rock. We had planned on using straw-bales, and even purchased enough to build a house; but, neophytes that we were, we needed a lot of friends to help put it up. Not too many friends, in fact, none, volunteered to help. So the strawbales rotted and made fodder for the cows on our range-free property.

After 5 years in the trailer, we had erected enough of our home of wood and stone to move in. It was and still is rugged. There are no permanent doors on the south side and the stone and tile bathroom does not have a roof. We have a composting toilet in our trailer but none in our house. We have a rudimentary kitchen with no cabinets or oven. No running water. The house has 3 floors, because we wanted to see as much as possible of the mountains. An array of solar panels and batteries along with a generator provides electricity for our needs. No TV...our choice. A few digital gadgets including a computer that is very ornery and crashes when I attempt to play videos. Transmission is remedial out here. We have a very large fireplace, built with found bricks and ferrocement. Only two rooms are almost complete; the upstairs ones are in constant beginnings. The roof leaks sometimes and bugs and bats sometimes enter through crevices in the walls. I am not even going to tell you about the sweat lodge of rocks that we built. No sweat.

This is our home, truly our home. This is our grass hut almost built with straw, like the 3 Little Pigs (thanks, Jundo) The open sky is also our home and the coyotes, badgers, fox and lizards are our neighbors. Even rattlesnakes, which we try to relocate but they live under the house anyhow. We do have a lot of "possessions". That is because I am an artist and I make things. I have the life-sized buddha (my version) sculpture that I made 30 years ago. Its fingers are broken and mended. She smells like cigarette smoke because I gave it to my good friend, who left it to me in his will. I also traded my work with other artists so I have a lot of art work. My husband is addicted to books. And his carvings. We can do without these things but why? If our house burned down (the rocks would remain, I do think), we would still have a home. I like my possessions such as my drawing table, my kiln (where the bees often build their home/hives), my potter's wheel. Do I need them? I could draw in the sand. I can make things from just about anything, as long as I could buy some cement. And we could still pick up rocks at the foot of the mountain. Could I do without my hands? Or the use of my legs? Or eyes? Don't know, but I don't think about it. Being pragmatic has always been part of our life. Nothing is permanent. There is nothing of value in our home either. Except the glorious moon that shines silver and gold when it comes up behind the mountains and shines. And the sunset that is the color of ripe cantaloupes.

Whoops...I am on the wrong thread. Or am I? Thank you, Catherine!

Gassho,
Ansan

SatToday

[Kyotai]

Hi Ansan,

Lovely. Thank you for sharing with us

Gassho, Kyotai
sat today

[Mp]

Wonderful expression Ansan ... thank you for sharing. =)

Gassho
Shingen

SatToday

[Jishin]

Hi Ansan,

Your way of life sounds wonderful. Do you think its for everyone?

Gassho, Jishin, _/st\_

[Joyo]

Thank you for sharing, Ansan. I've been so inspired by people sharing here. Lately I have not been so content with my home. No matter how much I clean and purge through kids' things, it always seems dirty and cluttered. The rugs, baseboards and cupboards are falling apart and need to go. However, I've learned a lot, from Shitou, and from many of you, to be content. Thank you all.

Gassho,
Joyo
sat today

[Jundo]

Somewhere on TreeLeaf, I am not sure where, but Jundo posted a comment about living in an (imaginary) house that had spiders and broken windows, etc. And I thought: That was/is our house!

Yes, Zen Practice is living in this house ...

Living our life is much like living in a house with a leaky roof, spiders and broken windows. In Master Dogen's way, we simply sit to drop all resistance to the house we have been living in all along, to realize that there is nowhere to 'go' in life, to cease all efforts to add to or take away from the structure, to let go of the ego's insisting on how things "should be" in order for the house to be "good" ... we ARE that house, our True Home! In the most intimate sense, the house and floors, dust and spiders, parlor and pantry and us ... all One. Then we find, in dropping that resistance, that the house we have always been in is "perfectly what it is", and we can be joyful right where we are. HOWEVER, we can be content with that house even as, hand in hand, there is still much serious repair work to do (an acceptance-without-acceptance of the leaky windows, spiders and creaky doors). There is nothing to prevent our fixing those, even as we accept their existence! We can accept and not accept simultaneously, repair what needs to be repaired.

We have goals for repair even as, on the other "track", we drop all goals and thoughts of repair.

We also find that we are ourselves just this House, and the House is who we are all along. House and householders, not separate, not two.

Gassho, J

SatToday

[Theophan]

My wife and I live in a rented 3 bedroom house at the base of Mt. Tabor (The only Volcano within city limits. Of course, It is extinct.) It is very peaceful and quiet here. Portland, Oregon is a beautiful state to live in. We enjoy working in our garden, the sunshine, reading & doing Zazen.
Gassho
Theophan
SatToday