The Simple Life
I've been living my dream and I didn't even realize it
You are reading Shy Guy Meets the Buddha: Reflections on Work, Love, and Nature, by Don Boivin. Here, I share my imperfect and sometimes heart-rending path to peace. 💚
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I’ve always wanted my life to be simple—unhurried, undemanding, quiet and peaceful. Even as a child I knew that I didn’t need to be rich, and I certainly had no desire to be famous. I shrank from the idea of working in an office, wearing a suit and tie, buying an expensive house, or driving a fancy car. I wanted my life to be low-stress and closely connected to nature; I would be a forest ranger or a naturalist, and I would live in a log cabin in the mountains or perhaps a primitive cottage by a lake or river. I envisioned my wooden canoe pulled up on the shore, weathered rocking chairs on the covered porch, and a screen door that slams on an old-fashioned spring.
And most importantly, there would be piles of books, books in every room, and plenty of time to read them. I would sit on my porch and rock half of each day away with a book in my hand and a fresh cup of coffee at my side while the birds sang in the trees and the river flowed gently by.
Of course, I haven’t quite achieved that dream. Water-front property, for one thing, is not exactly signing itself over to the man who doesn’t prioritize career and income. And even the most modest job can still keep one’s mind occupied in subjects far from peaceful country living and literary excursions. Basic survival takes time and effort.
I chose to make my living as an independent remodeling carpenter (and by “chose” I mean “allowed myself to fall into”), which means I get to work with my hands and spend lots of time outdoors. I make my own schedule and am exclusively in charge of how busy my days will be.
In such a high-demand field I could have built a thriving and successful construction company, with an office downtown and a backlog of projects, but growth was not my goal. I’ve always kept my business very small, opting simply to work “for myself, by myself.” Consequently, money has always been tight, and moving into that dream life of endless days relaxing and reading in my cabin in the country has eluded me.
Or has it?
I realized recently that I’m actually a whole lot closer to my small-town nature-inspired dream life than I thought. In fact, I think I might be living it.
When I came back to Massachusetts after the conclusion of a five-year relationship in 2006, I had a plan to make my dream a reality. For years I have adored the village of Shelburne Falls in western Massachusetts. It’s the quintessential New England small town, and the ultimate casting location for my dream script. Once a factory town on a river, its main street is lined with homegrown shops and restaurants. There’s a bookstore, a food co-op, an artisan’s gallery, a coffee shop that showcases local musicians several nights a week. The Bridge of Flowers, a former trolley bridge that now hosts a walking path surrounded on both sides by luxurious blooming plants, draws reflective nature lovers from near and far, as do the Glacial Potholes at the base of Salmon Falls a short walk away. The population of this artsy town is under 2000, and all this quaintness is surrounded by lush green mountains.
My plan was to take up residence in Shelburne Falls, offer my carpentry services to the local homeowners—I was sure that within months I’d have all the business I needed—and then within a year or two, buy one of the older cottages on the hillside overlooking the town. It would be a fixer-upper, very affordable, and I would make it livable but nothing fancy. Squeaky floors, temperamental radiators, drafty windows; all that would be fine with me. As long as it had a screened-in porch where I could set some wicker chairs and watch the sun rising or setting over the mountains, I would be happy.
But my plan was sidetracked before it began. A friend had offered me a temporary place to stay on Cape Cod in exchange for doing some carpentry work on her boyfriend’s commercial tour boat. This sounded like an adventure not to miss, and it would give me a chance to recover from the breakup and prepare for my next move.
Well, somewhere around mid-project, I met a woman—an artist and musician—who lit me up and changed my focus. We fell in love, and I decided to stay. (Link to that story here and below.)
And here’s the thing. Within a few years we married, and shortly thereafter bought a house in Hyannis, a fixer-upper, very affordable at the time (luckily for us, it was the tail end of the Great Recession/financial crisis of 2007—2009. We would not have been able to afford today’s housing prices on Cape Cod).
Our house was built in 1941 and had been sitting empty for some years. It needed a lot of work. We took out two dumpster-loads of trash, furniture, and brick-a-brack; we sanded floors, painted walls, put in new kitchen cabinets, built a deck, replaced a couple of windows. The work continues to this day. I’m still chasing a few roof leaks. But it’s cozy and it’s on nearly a half-acre with lots of trees—rare for a house within walking distance to downtown Hyannis. Here’s a picture of our humble little home:
Proximity to town, by the way, was a factor in my Shelburne Falls dream; I would walk to Main Street every day, stop in at the post office and library, sit at the coffee shop, get to know the locals and assimilate into the town’s social and arts scene. Well, I have done that here in Hyannis. In fact, sometimes my biggest dilemma is deciding which of the coffee shops to patronize that day because I’m friends with the owners of several. One has the best coffee, another has a sunny window seat where I enjoy reading and writing, and a third is where I’m most likely to run into a few friends.
Does my house have a screened-in porch with rocking chairs? Well... it did at one time. A previous owner closed it in and turned it into a bedroom. That room now operates as my wife’s painting studio (the front-most section in the picture above). But let’s just say I have remodeling plans...
And as far as access to water; I still wish I could hop into my canoe and start paddling without loading the boat onto my truck first, but the beach is only five minutes away, there are many lakes on Cape Cod, and across the road from my house, visible from my upstairs meditation room window, is a small pond that attracts migrating geese. I hear them honking every night when I sit for a spell of contemplative silence.
Pretty close, I would say, pretty close to my dream...
How did all this happen without my realizing it? Without deliberately planning, sacrificing, pushing, and striving to propel my life in the direction I wanted it to go?
I am becoming more and more convinced that we don’t actually choose who we are and where we end up. I think we instinctually know what we love and what we want, but our path is determined by so many complex conditions, both known and unknown, that the best we can do is loosen up, breathe easy, and step out the door in the morning without expectations, allowing our fate to reveal itself. Of course, we have the illusion of decision making; we select where or whether we’ll go to college, what job to apply for, whom we want as a life-partner. We have to get out of bed and make an effort, after all; the wind isn’t just going to blow us into our perfect life. But I have to ask; who is really in control of our desires, and consequently, the decisions we make? Who made me want to live in a rustic house in the country rather than a deluxe apartment in the city in the first place? I didn’t decide to prefer the simple life; that inclination was granted to me through my genes, conditioning, fate or some other mysterious preceding cause.
As I walk this path that continually unfolds before me, my particular, unique makeup influences whether I “choose” to step right or step left, stop here or continue on there. There’s a sense of freedom and relief in understanding this limit on free will because I’m less inclined to be hard on myself for not achieving this dream or realizing that goal.
What is a “wrong” decision, after all? Sure, I’ve suffered, I’ve traveled paths of sorrow and heartbreak. Who among us has not suffered? Just because the road is potholed or flooded doesn’t mean I made a wrong turn. I’ve come to deeply respect the sentiment expressed so well by the Buddhist monk, activist, and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh:
“Without mud, there would be no lotus flower.”
The mud is obviously part of the process.
I respect that I don’t really, totally know what I’m doing. I’ll never know all the factors and conditions that influence my desires and decisions, that continue to guide, correct, or redirect them.
One thing I do know, however, is that whether I strive, struggle, and stress, or peacefully relinquish control and let things fall into place, I’m most likely going to find myself living the simple life, because there’s just no denying it; I’m a simple kind of man. 😊
Here is “Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd:
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Here is the story of how I met my wife, Jennifer:
Reading your comfortable words would make anyone long for a simpler, more natural lifestyle. Very well written, Don, and a pleasure to read. Thank you.
I came and read and liked what I read